The Nesting - C. J. Cooke Page 0,117

able to give these children what they need right now. He can barely function. The world without Aurelia is absurd beyond all credulity. Grief is not a mere feeling—it’s an isotropic space. He can’t fathom living without her, that she is nowhere. Nowhere.

And one night, when he is astonishingly drunk, he comes across the sketch he drew of the new house. He’s written Aurelia’s Nest at the bottom.

He’ll finish the house, he decides. Instead of imposing upon nature, he’ll give back to it. He decides that his original plan of carbon neutrality isn’t enough—energy-generating architecture is the only way forward. He will give back to the land, instead of taking from it. Aurelia’s Nest will produce 100,000 kWh a year—more than what ten average households consume. And when the build is finished, he’ll make the plans of the house available for free, so others can build their own energy-generating homes as far and wide as possible. Aurelia’s Nest will be a “pod” that can be detached and put anywhere in the world, a kind of energy-positive crab shell. It doesn’t have to be attached to the side of a cliff, either—it can be stood on a platform in a field, or a back garden. It can have five bedrooms or one. Energy-positive prefab homes.

He promised Aurelia that he would build her house. And that is exactly what he’ll do.

38

curiosity and suspicion

NOW

It became plain that I had done something to upset Derry. Leaving without me in the mornings for her jog was understandable, given how slow I was, and perhaps my conversation was rambling. Perhaps I had failed to breathe properly on our breathing and bowing nights. After all, there was more to it than breathing and bowing—we rang a little bell, too, and sat with our legs crossed and occasionally ummed and aahed while attempting not to choke on incense smoke. My thoughts flicked to the night some weeks before when she had interrupted Clive during his unnerving interrogation about whether I had seen something. There had been a moment when he had leaned close to me . . . the air around him fizzed with expectancy. And then Derry had come in. Surely she didn’t think I was trying it on with her husband? Clive was knocking on his fifties—pretty much old enough to be my dad. Even if he was trying it on, it was hardly my fault. Was it? Maybe Derry had connected his actions to something she had perceived. Perceptions, I had learned, were roughly ninety-nine percent to do with the mindset of the perceiver and the other one percent to do with actual fact. Even so, I felt sad. I had managed to build a semblance of a friendship with Derry and looked forward to our chats. I actually enjoyed the breathing and bowing sessions—they helped me feel a little less twitchy. Confident, even.

“Everyone! Come outside, please!” a voice called. Gaia stirred in my bed and sat upright.

“What time is it?” she said. I glanced at the clock. It was just past seven and still dark. “Why is Daddy shouting?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and we headed to the kitchen to see what was going on. Tom was there in his work gear. I realized I hadn’t seen him come in the night before, so he must have spent all night on the build.

“It’s done,” he said, like a man possessed. “It’s alive!”

Clive came in through the door behind him then, stamping his boots on the doormat. He was wearing work clothing, too. “Is Derry back?” he asked me. I told him I didn’t know.

“Maren!” Tom shouted. A few minutes later she emerged, bleary-eyed in her nightie. He paid no heed. “We’re all going to see the house.”

Clearly we had no say in the matter, but it was exciting all the same. We all wrapped up in our coats and boots and headed out into the dark.

As we approached the cliff, it looked as though nothing had been built at all. The same chaos of diggers and concrete mixers and remnants of timber joists scattered all over the muddy outcrop. But then Tom shone a light straight ahead of him, and we all gasped—there was a glass lift right at the edge of the cliff.

“Like Willy Wonka, Daddy,” Gaia observed.

“Yes, pudding. But better.”

We all stepped into it. Tom hit a button and we all drew breath as the lift descended slowly down the side of the cliff. The sun was just beginning to rise, bleeding

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