The Road Above the Water

Text 1: The High Road, by Elinor Voss

An original novel extract.

Mara had packed the last tin of biscuits, then unpacked it again. It would be daft to take them; the lorry was already waiting at the top of the hill. Below, the village lay under a skin of water. The church clock had stopped, its hands black and still above the flood.

Her brother called from the road. Mara shut the case. The latch caught on the strap and she tugged until it sprang free. For a moment she thought of the kitchen, warm with the smell of apples, and of the mark her mother had made on the doorframe each birthday. Then a gust carried the river’s raw, muddy smell up the hill. She turned her face into it, as if to make sure it was real.

At the lorry, the driver lifted her case without a word. Mara climbed in. The village slid behind the hedges as they took the high road. She kept her eyes on the window: first the roofs, then the church tower, then only the grey water shining between the fields. When the road bent, she let out a breath she had not known she was holding. The biscuit tin rattled under her seat. She did not reach for it.