Page 27

Story: The Rewilding

“Nothing much,” Roger replied, sipping his tea. “Only they will sometimes scratch at the walls and doors. They can’t get in, so it doesn’t really matter. Even so, the noise when everything else is so quiet, well, it can get the heart going a bit.”

Steph nodded, sipping her tea. She had to admit to herself that constantly living with things around you that would happily eat you might eventually fray the nerves.

“Have you heard from Fergus recently?” Roger asked, turning to face Davey.

“I’m meant to check on him tomorrow,” Davey replied. “Has been a bit low-key recently. To be honest, I think he’s struggling.”

Roger nodded and pulled a knowing face.

“Who’s Fergus?” Steph asked.

“Another individual like me who is making the most of a lucrative stay in a holiday cottage,” Roger said.

Davey rolled his eyes.

“You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to it all,” Davey said.

“I never said I didn’t,” shrugged Roger. “Although, I would not say I completely understood what I was getting into seeing as neither did any of your lot!”

“My lot?”

“Yes, your lot! You had no idea how the animals would behave; the lady in the white coat said as much when I started.”

“Martina?”

“Something like that.”

It was Davey’s turn to shrug.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said. “Not that I agree with any of it really anyway…”

“You go along with it for the wage!” Roger said, pointing a finger.

“So do you!” retorted Davey. “So you can put that finger away. Anyway, that’s sort of why this one is here.”

“This lovely lady?”

Steph almost choked on her tea. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called her lovely. She was not sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment. She settled on ignoring it.

“That’s right,” she said. “I’ve been employed to assess the relationship between the animals in the ecosystem as well as their behaviour in general.”

Roger looked mildly impressed.

“She usually writes about bigfoot,” Davey said, resting a lazy foot over his knee.

Steph could feel herself going red.

“I am a trained field biologist!” she snapped.

“And now you have a real job in a fake world rather than a fake job in the real world,” Davey continued, smiling behind his tea.

“Oh, leave the girl alone!” Roger said, hitting Davey on theshoulder with his book. “Someone has to write about a sasquatch and make some money from it. If she doesn’t, someone else will because there’s a market for it! I was on holiday in Canada once and the resort did actual bigfoot walks. They were always fully booked is all I can say.”

Hearing words she had used herself come from the mouth of another trying to defend her felt horrible. It was hard to ignore the taste of something when you were eating it yourself and not force-feeding it to others. She decided to change the subject. Ignorance was bliss. Better that than face herself in the mirror as her parents often suggested she do.

“Do you meet up with the others in the cabins?” Steph asked. “Only I can imagine it is quite a lonely existence for someone here.”

“Not frequently, but we do from time to time,” Roger replied. “We have a poker night once a month to look forward to and of course, we are allowed off-site. We aren’t prisoners. We just have to be discreet with information.”