Free The Kimota Anthology by Steve Lockley, Stephen Gallagher, Neal Asher, Stephen Laws, Mark Chadbourn, Mark Morris, Paul Finch, William Meikle, Peter Crowther, Graeme Hurry Page B

arrived and Sandra was too tired to do anything other than fall into bed and sleep. As for me, I was restless. I never believed that I would miss the bustle of London’s streets, but the lack of noise here had me on edge.
    The only sound was the gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks only ten yards from the cottage’s front door. Occasionally there would be the forlorn cry of a gull or the croaking of a crow but apart from that it was silent and dark and strangely disquieting.
    I paced the floors, studying the titles of the books on the long shelves round the walls, listening to the radio, drinking whisky and trying to pretend that I didn’t miss the television.
    It was very late by the time I snuggled into bed, taking advantage of the radiating heat from my pregnant wife beside me. I believe I slept soundly I don’t remember any dreams and nothing disturbed me during the night.
    She woke me the next morning with a whisper.
    “Get up. Hurry. You’ve got to see this.”
    I was still groggy when I raised my head to see her leaving the room. I got out of bed, wincing at the cold seeping through the floorboards, and joined her at the window in the front room.
    “Look”, she said, “Isn’t it wonderful?”
    It was very early morning - the sun was just coming up over the hills of Argyll, spreading a pink glow across the wispy clouds.
    The sea was being slightly ruffled by a small breeze and, there in the foreground, just at the edge of the small lawn in front of the house, sat three otters obviously a mother and two smaller young. As we watched they trotted along the shore then slipped into the water.
    We crept out, still naked, and watched them cavorting among the huge fronds of seaweed until I slipped on the wet grass and the sudden movement caused them to dive, resurfacing again much farther out. Sandra came over and squeezed me, her full belly pressing its heat against my flesh.
    “Thanks for bringing us here John. I love it.” We kissed and I marvelled again at how hot and alive and heavy with life she had become. It was only as we turned back to the house that I noticed the mound.
    It had been too dark the night before to see any details of the surrounding area but now I could see that the cottage was built on a small raised piece of land between two arms of a river. We had come across a small bridge last night but in the dark I had failed to notice it.
    Behind the cottage, just where the rivers split, there was a huge stone cairn, standing eight to ten feet high and topped off with a cross which looked to be the same height again as the cairn and made of solid iron. Around the cairn there was a wrought iron fence with spiked railings jutting up towards the sky.
    “Why would they put something like that out here?” she asked me “I thought that cairns were usually built on top of hills?”
    “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s for someone who died either here or at sea near here. We can ask in town if you like?” I turned towards her, noticing the goose pimples which had been raised on her arms.
    “Get yourself inside and put some clothes on we don’t want you to catch a chill. Anyway, by the time we get going and get to the town the shop will be open.”
    When we eventually got to the shop it was ten o’clock - there had just been too many things to see on the drive down.
    The shop held only basic foods - eggs, bacon, cheese, nothing too fancy - but Sandra had got over her cravings for exotica and we would be able to stock up with most of our needs for the week.
    Sandra was the focus of much of the talk and was in danger of excessive mothering from some of the women we met - we turned down several offers of a warmer room closer to town and the shop owner took our list from us, promising that she would make it up and we could collect it later.
    Luckily the hotel served late breakfast. The pace of life on the island moved slowly and you could run breakfast into lunch into evening meal into supper without leaving