It was long past midnight when Beth started the drive home. The Lathams were convivial company, especially Gwen, who had an anarchic sense of humor that belied her ‘twinset and pearls’ image.
While Arthur did the washing up, leaving Beth and Gwen alone in the lounge, Beth touched on the subject of the pain associated with Gwen’s condition. “How do you cope with it?” she asked her.
“I smoke dope,” Gwen Latham said candidly. “Marijuana. It helps.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And I get a little high…which is nice,” she added with a knowing smile.
“I’m just amazed you can get the stuff out here in the sticks.”
Gwen laughed. “You’re right. It’s not commonplace. Luckily I have my own supplier.”
Beth raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“It’s Arthur actually. He has contacts. One of the benefits of working in the state school system.”
Beth smiled to herself as she drove the short distance home. She was so immersed in the memories of the evening she almost hit the young woman, who broke from the trees and dashed across the road. Beth was suddenly aware of a white shift dress flapping in the breeze, a pale, almost white face with large frightened eyes, and long flowing hair that trailed behind her like a black cape.
“Shit!” she shouted, and pressed on the brake. The car lurched to a halt and she was thrown forward, her momentum halted by the seat belt, which slammed her back against the headrest.
But there was no impact. Thankfully, miraculously, she hadn’t hit the woman: the road ahead was clear.
Beth took a moment to compose herself, and then checked her wing mirrors. The road behind her was clear as well. There was no sign of anyone.
She sat in her seat and looked at the trees to the left, the direction the young woman was running.
Through the gaps between the trees she could see the Stillwater Lake, seemingly weed free now; the black mirrored surface reflected the round disc of a silvery full moon. As her panicked breathing returned to normal she thought she saw movement out there—something white, flitting from tree to tree. Now you see her, now you don’t, Beth thought.
This was when her disability frustrated her most. A few short months ago she would have been out of the car and dashing through the trees to catch up with whoever was out there. Even if all she did was remonstrate with her about her reckless behavior. Instead she was virtually trapped in the car. She could struggle out of her seat and get into her wheelchair, but she could see from the uneven nature of the landscape it would be foolhardy, and possibly dangerous. Instead she just sat there and fumed.
The incident brought back every memory of the accident that had robbed her of her legs.
After a few more minutes the young woman appeared at the edge of the lake. Beth had her finger poised above the electric window button. She was about to wind down the window and shout out, but what happened next dried the words in her throat.
The young woman glanced about her furtively, and then, with a movement that looked well practiced yet at the same time perfectly natural, she slipped into the waters of the lake and disappeared from view, leaving only a silvery wake as she glided through the water. Beth watched, mesmerized. Only when the wake smoothed out did she start the car again, and ease forward.
She thought about the girl she had nearly run down for the rest of the short time home, but when she reached the house she was just as puzzled as when she started. Puzzled…and curious.
Who was she? And why would she be running in the dark, through the woods at nearly one o’clock in the morning?
Beth pulled up at the rear of the house, disembarked and wheeled herself up the ramp to the back door. The night was dark; unlike the city nights, out here there were no streetlamps, and no house lights to make even night seem bright.
As she went to put her key in the lock she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. She drew back her hand as if it had been stung. She was almost positive she had closed and locked the door when she left the house earlier. But almost wasn’t a certainty. Get a grip, she told herself. Think. She tried to retrace her steps in her mind, but while the memory of hauling herself behind the wheel was clear, the actions leading up to that were foggy.
Shaking her head, and angry with herself, she pushed open the door and wheeled herself inside, closing the door, double locking it behind her.
As she made herself a cup of warm milk to take to bed with her, her mind went back to the young woman in the woods, and the questions in her head started again.
She took her milk and the questions to bed with her, and it was nearly three when her eyes finally closed, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.
She awoke to something scratching persistently at the door. Blearily she turned her head to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The green digits read 3:35. You have to be kidding, she thought sleepily. As she gradually came to, her mind tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Finally she heard a low moan, slowly rising in pitch until it became a full-throated meow. “Teddy! Give it a rest!”
The cat appeared not to have heard her. Either that or he was willfully ignoring her. The meowing and scratching continued and, if anything, increased. Hanging from the ceiling above her head was a stout iron chain attached to an inverted D-shaped handle. She reached up with both hands, wrapped her fingers around the porcelain grip covering the straight edge of the D, and hauled herself into a sitting position. She let go of the handle and, using her hands, moved her legs to the edge of the bed. And then she reached across and pulled her chair closer. The side of the chair was hinged and the seat was level with the bed, so all she had to do was to ease herself into the wheelchair, and return its armrest to the upright position.
On paper it was a simple maneuver, in practice it took her fifteen minutes and by the time she adjusted the armrest she was sweating profusely, and all the time her cat was yowling outside the door.
“All right, all right, I’m coming.”
She wheeled herself across to the door, and opened it a crack.
Teddy forced himself through the gap, and sped into the room. In a couple of strides the cat leapt onto the bed, and burrowed down underneath the duvet.
“Great,” Beth muttered. It looked like she had company for the rest of the night. She shut the door, and rolled back to the bed.
Once she was settled again she reached under the duvet, and laid her hand on the cat’s back, ruffling the fur, at the same time mumbling words of reassurance. Teddy was trembling.
“What scared you?” she said quietly. “Silly boy, there’s nothing to be scared of.”
And then the scratching at the door started again.
The reassuring words dried in her throat, and she stared at the door. The scratching continued. Under her fingers the cat’s body stiffened, fur bristling. Beth’s mind went back to the open back door. It was obvious to her what had happened. Another cat must have come through it earlier in the evening. It would account for Teddy’s erratic behavior. He was never a sociable cat. He hated other cats since a run-in with a neutered tom in London had left him with a torn ear and numerous scratches and bites. The incident had left her out of pocket in vet’s fees. She didn’t want a repeat of that.
She was too exhausted by the lateness of the hour to attempt getting out of bed again. Instead she reached for the thick Jilly Cooper paperback on her bedside table, and hurled it at the bedroom door. It hit the door with a best-selling thud, and slid down to the floor, landing open and facedown, cracking the book’s spine. The scratching stopped instantly.
She lay there, half expecting it to resume, but after five minutes or so she started to believe she had scared the interloper away. “Thank God for that. I’ll deal with it in the morning,” she muttered, and closed her eyes. Within seconds she had drifted back to sleep.
Beth awoke the next morning to glorious summer sunshine that poured through the bedroom window like warm honey, bathing the bed in a golden, warming light. Through the window she could see trees, and hear birdsong. There was something to be said for country life.
Beside her Teddy slept, his body rising and falling as he breathed. She poked him, but he slept on.
“Okay,” she said to him. “Stay there, but it’s a lovely day. You could be basking in the sunshine.” And then she remembered the scratching in the night. “Actually, you’re probably better where you are. Let me deal with the other moggy first. I’ll come and get you when the coast is clear.”
She wheeled herself from the bedroom, closing the door behind her, switched on the coffee maker on the kitchen counter and searched as much of the house as she could. She stopped by the bottom of the stairs, and stared up into the gloom. The cat was probably up there somewhere, sleeping off the night’s adventure. Beth shrugged. There was nothing she could do about it so she went to the back door, unlocked it and opened it wide, giving the cat a way out of the house. Then she went back to the kitchen, and poured herself a large mug of strong Columbian. She took the coffee through to her office, and woke up her computer.
Reading through the work she’d completed the day before she found herself pleasantly surprised; not satisfied—never satisfied, but it was better than she’d expected, considering her long layoff.
When a voice called, “Hello!” she glanced at the computer’s clock, and was amazed to see she had been sitting in front of the screen for the best part of three hours.
“Through here!” she called back. “In the office.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing the creative flow,” James Bartlett said, as he sauntered into her office. Casually professional.
“No, you’re fine,” Beth said. “I was just revising and editing.”
“That’s good. I just thought I’d pop by to see that you were settling in okay and…” He hesitated. “And to see if you’d like to come for a picnic.”
Beth stared him, surprised. Today he was dressed in jeans and a tight and faded Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt. Timberland boots and an unshaven chin completed the look. He stared back at her, a mixture of uncertainty and hopefulness in his smoky gray eyes.
“You’re serious?”
“Never more.”
“Well it’s very kind of you but…”
“Come on,” he said. “Where’s the harm? It’s a glorious day. The sun is shining, the—”
“I have to work.” She cut him off. “Sorry.” She found herself blushing; could feel the color rushing to her cheeks.
“Two hours. Surely you could spare that, just to enjoy the sunshine.”
She could feel her resolve wavering. Lack of sleep and a marathon editing session was making her mind feel sluggish. Perhaps being outside in the sunshine would help.
“Just two hours?”
“No more. Promise. Estate agent’s honor.”
“Is there such a thing?” She had a sudden thought. “Excuse me a moment. I have to do something.” Quickly she wheeled herself to her bedroom, and opened the door. Teddy was waiting on the other side, and as soon as he saw daylight he shot out of the room, and dashed to the back door. In the doorway the cat paused and looked back her, the flicking of his tail betraying his uncertainty.
“It’s all right. Go on.”
The cat gave a final meow, and disappeared into the garden.
“What’s wrong with the cat?” James said.
“He had a bad scare last night. I left the door open when I went out last night and a stray cat came into the house. He doesn’t handle confrontation well, and he freaked.” She paused thoughtfully. “Actually, you could do me a huge favor.”
He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Go on,” he said suspiciously.
“I’m worried the stray is still in the house somewhere. Could you check the upstairs? Obviously I—”
“You’re not allowed up there.” He cut her off tactfully. “I’ll do it now…while you get dressed.”
“What?” She looked down at herself, and was mortified to see she was still wearing her pajamas. “Sorry,” she spluttered. “I lost track of time.”
He was smiling, and waved her explanation away. “You don’t have to worry with me. Besides…” The smile broadened.
“Stop laughing at me.” She turned and wheeled herself into the bedroom.
“I was going to say, I think you look cute.”
She reached out and slammed the door shut. Cute! Really? she thought angrily. Then she caught her reflection in the dressing table mirror. To her surprise she saw that she was smiling.