The House with the Red Roof

One year, I decided not to walk the West Highland Way; a path of about a hundred miles leading from the central belt of Scotland into the glorious Highlands. Instead, I ventured out to the west coast – because here, it was much more remote and there was less chance of running into hoards of people. Not that I sought out loneliness, nor did I try to avoid it – I’d reached that stage in my life when I was relatively content with myself (regardless of my many faults). 

The problem with the north-west of the Scottish mainland is there are very few paths and even less places to take shelter, should the weather dictate.

That day, when I found the house with the red roof, that was such a day. I almost thought I was going to be wiped out in a snow storm. 

It was an old abandoned farm house which had transformed itself into a bothy ( a place of shelter if you should find yourself stuck out on the hills). Inside there was a little fire in the corner, and some kind soul had left a few twigs and branches to help start a fire. They had even left a few matches.

I managed (eventually) to light a fire – it is not as easy as they make it look in the books – besides, it was a damp room and the wood was slightly wet. I took out a bar of chocolate and warmed some milk I had brought. It made a lovely drink. Needless to say, I fell asleep almost immediately after my supper. The glow and crackling of the fire brought a peace to settle in the room.

For some reason, I opened my eyes – and to my shock (for that is what you told me later), a woman was sitting warming herself at the fire and rubbing her hands.

“Oh, hello,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Who are you?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Sophie.”

“Harry, pleased to meet you.”

And that night, started something that changed both our lives. We sat and talked all night (or what was left of it) about the stars, and the world, our families, our dreams and hopes. Before we both knew it, the sun had come up. You said you were heading off to the east and I was going to take the western path, along the loch.

It had been the wee small hours of the fifth of November – remember, remember.

I went back to my job of teaching in Bromley and you said you were taking a PHD course in Physics at some south eastern university.

I have no idea why, but the following 4^th of November, I happened to be walking near the house with the red roof. Maybe I hoped to run into you again. If I was being honest, you had been on my mind for much of the last year.

You were already there when I arrived.

“Imagine meeting you here,” was what you had said as I entered the house.

Imagine, indeed.

It was an extremely cold night, and I had actually brought some wood up here with me. For if there was no one here, I was going to light a small fire and then leave the rest of the wood for the next lonely traveller caught by the weather.

But you were here. Somehow I knew you would be. It was like that book ‘One Day’. Although neither of us saw anything romantic in what we were doing. At least, not then.  And once again, all we did was talk and lie by the fire.

I met Susan the following Spring and by Autumn we were wed. I don’t know if you sensed the change in me, but I went to the little house the next November and you didn’t show up.

Something must be wrong – I thought to myself.

Then I saw it – a letter on the mantlepiece of the fire – addressed to Harry. I was surprised the letter had survived. It said you had come a week early to the cottage as you were taking your final exams the week of the 4th of November. I remember sitting by the fire and wishing you well (at least in my head).

The following year we met again and this time you looked tired. Apparently you had nursed your mother through Alzheimer’s and now she was gone. You told me that night, that the walk had helped with the sadness. The fresh Scottish air had diluted your troubles.

It was crazy, but we continued to meet up over the next eight years. In that time I had become a father to two boys and you told me you had met someone special.

You looked, and grew so much happier over that time.

I just want to say thank to you for your friendship and your beautiful soul – and our meetings which kept me going over all the years.

If you are reading this letter dear Sophie, it is because I can’t make it this year. Susan took the boys to the hut (probably because she was curious herself) and she left the letter I wrote for you.

I will be watching you from the stars. I wish you all the love in the world.

Harry x

bobby stevenson 2018