A Keeper(37)



Patricia stared into the darkness. What was going to happen tomorrow night? Was it something to look forward to or dread? Could she trust Edward? She felt more awake than she had in many days.

‘Aren’t you a good girl?’ Mrs Foley cooed when she came to collect Patricia’s tray. ‘That’s more like it. You’ll be up and around in no time.’

Patricia smiled, before she remembered that she wasn’t an invalid and Mrs Foley was her gaoler, not some selfless Florence Nightingale. She twisted her body to the wall and the old woman left her room.

The hours seemed to pass even more slowly when she was anticipating … what? What had Edward meant? The sunlight left the sky and still she waited. Would there be a sign? Might she miss it? She wouldn’t go to sleep. Edward had told her to be ready.

Dinner came and went but nothing happened. Maybe Edward was wrong, or had something changed? She sat on her bed and listened for something out of the ordinary.

Despite her best intentions, she fell asleep. When she woke up someone had switched off her light. She turned it back on. The curtains were drawn. Sitting up, Patricia thought she could hear voices. They sounded excited or distressed and seemed to be some distance from the house. She leapt from her bed and hurried to peer out of the window. She just caught a glimpse of Mrs Foley, bent against the wind, with a coat pulled over her nightdress. She seemed to be shouting at someone. Feeling braver, Patricia pressed herself against the glass. She could hear Edward’s voice coming from further away and there was something strange about the way the light played against the side of the house. An uneven orange glow. Mrs Foley appeared again, this time carrying a couple of heavy-looking buckets. A fire! There must be a fire somewhere. Was this what Edward had meant? Was this the moment, her opportunity to escape? She rushed to the door and tried the handle. It opened! On the floor in front of her was a brown tweed coat and an old pair of shoes in worn black leather. Edward! He must have left them for her. Patricia put her feet into the shoes – a little big but they’d do – and then slipped on the heavy coat. She paused at the top of the stairs and listened. The voices were still coming from outside. Holding on to the banister to steady herself, she made her way downstairs as quickly as she could. Mrs Foley had been at the front of the house so Patricia headed through the kitchen. Still unsure of her balance she leaned on the chairs by the table and slowly made her way towards the back door. Reaching it she suddenly worried that it would be locked. Her heart felt tight and frantic. She lifted the latch and the old door fell towards her with the force of the wind.

Patricia stepped outside into the blast of chill night air. She found she was gulping it in like a drowning man who has just made his way to the surface. She felt giddy, elated even, to be outside.

Keeping close to the wall, she made her way across the yard back towards the lane. She felt the heat of the fire before she saw it. Turning the corner she could see the blaze was in the orchard. Banners of orange flames were furling against the night sky. Suddenly Edward and his mother appeared struggling with a hose. Patricia threw herself back into the shadows. She realised it would be too risky to head straight for the lane that led down to the road. She would have to cut through the fields behind the orchard and get back to the road that way. Keeping her head low, she darted towards the milking parlour and using it for cover made her way towards the field. It was much harder to see anything now but she knew that if she kept the glow of the flames to her right then she was heading in the correct direction. She seemed to be on some sort of narrow path and decided to follow it rather than risk cutting directly across the wet grass of the field. Putting one foot in front of the other, she kept trying to find the firmer ground. Already she felt a little breathless and tired, as the adrenaline wore off, and the reality of making her way through the rough unchartered territory began to take its toll on her. The path seemed to be taking her slightly downhill and all she could see of the fire were tiny sparks bobbing high above her.

The path became muddier. Cold water seeped into her shoes. She didn’t care. The only option was to keep going. The sharp grass whipped painfully at her bare legs, but the road couldn’t be that much further. She stopped to try and get her bearings. The glow from the orchard was still to her right but seemed further away than she thought it should be. If only a car would drive by so she could see some headlights and make her way towards them. When she started to walk again she was surprised by the way she had sunk into the mud. It took some effort to pull her feet out and she nearly lost one of her shoes. It didn’t help that the cold air had found its way beneath her coat and her body had begun to shiver violently. Her feet were numb.

She smelled it first. The tang of salt mixed with something much darker, almost rotten. It reminded her of something and then it struck her; the marsh that they had driven over. She realised that she was no longer wading through a muddy field. The path must have led her down to the sea. She could hear the lapping of water. She turned to try and go back the way she had come but her left foot suddenly plunged her up to her thigh in the cold muddy sand. She gasped and fell backwards. When she righted herself she wasn’t sure which direction she had been facing in. A fluttering panic took hold of her and she began to whimper. Reaching forward she found a clump of reeds to hold on to. Pulling herself with whatever strength she still possessed, she managed to free her left foot which was now shoeless. She held on to the grass and tried to catch her breath. Looking around, she could just make out some shadowy shapes in the distance but nothing that looked familiar or could help her decide in what direction she should be heading. Summoning all her energy she stood up and took a couple of unsteady steps away from the sound of the sea, but then with a horrible jolt she found herself submerged up to her waist in the icy cold mud. She let out an involuntary scream. Immediately she worried that someone might have heard her but then realised that was what she needed to happen. She stretched her arms as far as she could but could feel no grass or reeds to get hold of. The cold circle of mud around her body seemed to be creeping higher. She twisted to her left and then the right, but there was nothing but a blanket of blackness surrounding her.

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