that there was a loft-type upper floor to the house after all. Maybe the
bedrooms would feel less exposed.
‘Close your eyes!’ Seth ordered, pulling her into a vast glass box of a living room with views on all sides, down through the floor and up to the sky.
They walked slowly towards the enormous window that seemed to frame the countryside. Kite followed the path of the waterfall through the steep-sided valley as it merged with the stream and
meandered away into the distance. Surrounding the widening stream were green fields dotted with sheep and fell ponies. On one side was hard grey rock and on the other a long stretch of woodland.
Kite winced as the sky produced a perfect palette of pale pink and orange to replace the bright blues of the day. It was as if a master painter was at work. She felt as if she had been picked up
from Dawn’s graveside and dropped into this picture-perfect world, except that everything about it felt fake to her, like a cover-up. Apart from the grim sheep’s carcass;
that
felt real enough.
As Kite stared down at the gaping drop beneath she wondered if it was possible for her to have drifted into a worse place. If she’d been asked to draw a building that looked how she felt
at this moment, she would have drawn Mirror Falls. How was it possible for so much of the building to be hanging off the mountain without it careering into the chasm below? One thing was for
certain. Whoever had dreamed up this house wanted to turn things on their head, to challenge nature.
‘And – if that doesn’t impress you – you’d better prepare yourself for this!’ Seth indicated the dark purple sofa behind her. ‘Sitting
comfortably?’ He pressed down on the large cushions to test them.
Kite nodded.
‘Then I’ll begin!’
A smooth whirring noise came from somewhere above her head, and she noticed that Seth was pointing the remote upward. As she watched, the huge glass sheet panel retracted, leaving nothing above
but the open sky.
Kite picked up a cream woollen throw that was folded on the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Impressive!’ Her voice was as expressionless as that of the strange
woman they’d met on the road. ‘But could you close it for now? I feel cold.’
Seth pressed the button and the roof slid back over them again. ‘Why don’t you go up and choose your bedroom, and I’ll fix us something to eat?’ he suggested.
‘I’ll bring your case up when I’ve unpacked the car.’
Kite walked around the sofa towards the stepping-stone bridge and began to climb the glass staircase. The banister was carved from driftwood like the old woman’s walking stick. She ran her
fingers along its winding surface. The unevenness of the wood with its random knots was comforting after the unforgiving harsh lines of the house. At the top was a narrow glass corridor with three
misted-glass doorways leading off it. The wall at the end overlooked the living area and valley below. She looked down through the landing to the stepping-stone bridge and beyond that, through one
of the glass panels, to the waterfall. There it was again: the macabre reminder of death. From here she could just see its skull.
Kite walked along the corridor to the third door, slid it open and peered inside. She was relieved to find that the bedroom had a sturdy sandstone floor covered by a thick woollen rug. The tiny
room contained nothing but a low wooden bed with plain white linen, a coarse cream homespun blanket, a bedside table and an enormous floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. She scanned the colourful spines.
There would be no shortage of reading material, if she decided to hole herself up here for the summer. If Dawn was here she would work her way through book after book. Kite reached up and touched
one of the heavy old tomes, and another remote fell off the shelf. She pressed a button, and the whole wall of books opened on to a wardrobe with shelves, drawers, hangers and places to
bedrooms would feel less exposed.
‘Close your eyes!’ Seth ordered, pulling her into a vast glass box of a living room with views on all sides, down through the floor and up to the sky.
They walked slowly towards the enormous window that seemed to frame the countryside. Kite followed the path of the waterfall through the steep-sided valley as it merged with the stream and
meandered away into the distance. Surrounding the widening stream were green fields dotted with sheep and fell ponies. On one side was hard grey rock and on the other a long stretch of woodland.
Kite winced as the sky produced a perfect palette of pale pink and orange to replace the bright blues of the day. It was as if a master painter was at work. She felt as if she had been picked up
from Dawn’s graveside and dropped into this picture-perfect world, except that everything about it felt fake to her, like a cover-up. Apart from the grim sheep’s carcass;
that
felt real enough.
As Kite stared down at the gaping drop beneath she wondered if it was possible for her to have drifted into a worse place. If she’d been asked to draw a building that looked how she felt
at this moment, she would have drawn Mirror Falls. How was it possible for so much of the building to be hanging off the mountain without it careering into the chasm below? One thing was for
certain. Whoever had dreamed up this house wanted to turn things on their head, to challenge nature.
‘And – if that doesn’t impress you – you’d better prepare yourself for this!’ Seth indicated the dark purple sofa behind her. ‘Sitting
comfortably?’ He pressed down on the large cushions to test them.
Kite nodded.
‘Then I’ll begin!’
A smooth whirring noise came from somewhere above her head, and she noticed that Seth was pointing the remote upward. As she watched, the huge glass sheet panel retracted, leaving nothing above
but the open sky.
Kite picked up a cream woollen throw that was folded on the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Impressive!’ Her voice was as expressionless as that of the strange
woman they’d met on the road. ‘But could you close it for now? I feel cold.’
Seth pressed the button and the roof slid back over them again. ‘Why don’t you go up and choose your bedroom, and I’ll fix us something to eat?’ he suggested.
‘I’ll bring your case up when I’ve unpacked the car.’
Kite walked around the sofa towards the stepping-stone bridge and began to climb the glass staircase. The banister was carved from driftwood like the old woman’s walking stick. She ran her
fingers along its winding surface. The unevenness of the wood with its random knots was comforting after the unforgiving harsh lines of the house. At the top was a narrow glass corridor with three
misted-glass doorways leading off it. The wall at the end overlooked the living area and valley below. She looked down through the landing to the stepping-stone bridge and beyond that, through one
of the glass panels, to the waterfall. There it was again: the macabre reminder of death. From here she could just see its skull.
Kite walked along the corridor to the third door, slid it open and peered inside. She was relieved to find that the bedroom had a sturdy sandstone floor covered by a thick woollen rug. The tiny
room contained nothing but a low wooden bed with plain white linen, a coarse cream homespun blanket, a bedside table and an enormous floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. She scanned the colourful spines.
There would be no shortage of reading material, if she decided to hole herself up here for the summer. If Dawn was here she would work her way through book after book. Kite reached up and touched
one of the heavy old tomes, and another remote fell off the shelf. She pressed a button, and the whole wall of books opened on to a wardrobe with shelves, drawers, hangers and places to
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