What seems like five minutes after I finally fall asleep, an unusual sound wakes me up with a start.
‘What the …?’ I struggle to a sitting position, reaching for my mobile, as Toby sleeps on beside me. With a sigh, I realise that the reason it feels as if I’ve only been asleep five minutes is because it’s actually true.
The rooster crows again and I want to cry and throw things because I’m so exhausted after my night of insect warfare. Toby’s gentle snoring just adds insult to injury and, even though blissful silence descends after about twenty minutes of almost constant crowing, I still can’t get back to sleep. Mainly because I’m now thinking about Maple Tree House and wishing fervently that I’d had the courage to get out of the car when we were there yesterday …
It’s stuffy in the tent but the minute I decide to get dressed, make some coffee and go and sit outside, I hear the patter of rain. Before long, it’s coming down heavily, the noise astonishingly loud against the canvas. Amazingly, Toby sleeps through the brief thunderstorm, only waking when I finally get up to boil the kettle soon after eight.
‘Coffee?’ I ask as he peers outside at the rain-drenched morning.
‘Great. Then I’ll have a shower and, to be honest, the weather’s so revolting, I might as well get some work done.’
‘Today?’ I stare at him, annoyed. ‘But I thought you promised you were all mine today.’
‘No. You said that.’ He grins and I can tell he’s feeling cheerful because the weather is on his side. ‘But honestly, what can we do in the countryside when it’s raining like this? Absolutely bugger all.’
Sighing, I’m about to say that we could always do something else like go to the cinema, which hardly needs a fine day. Whether it’s because I’m sleep-deprived or because I’m getting fed up pandering to Toby, I’m not sure, but I suddenly realise I don’t especially want to be with Toby today.
I only wish I’d brought my car because then I’d be free to go wherever I liked.
‘Actually, I think it’s a good idea,’ I say to Toby and he looks at me in astonishment.
‘Really? You don’t mind?’
I shake my head. ‘You go and do something useful. I’ll be fine here, working on my book. I might pop in and see Clemmy later when it stops raining.’
‘If it stops. Because it looks to me as if it’s set for the day,’ says Toby cheerfully, heading for the shower. He’s obviously cock-a-hoop now that I’ve handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card.
After he’s driven off, I make the bed, propping up all the pillows to make myself a cosy nest, and flop back against them with my laptop, a coffee and one of yesterday’s pastries within easy reach on the bedside table. I want to edit what I wrote yesterday.
By lunchtime, the rain clouds have passed over and the sun has come out. And I’m feeling really groggy by this time from lack of sleep. If I stay here, I’m just going to drift off and waste the day. So I decide now would be a good time to venture on that walk through the woods I discovered the day before. Some fresh air will perk me up.
Packing a sandwich, an apple, some crisps and a large bottle of water into my backpack, along with my pink waterproof jacket, just in case, I set off, zipping up the tent and walking along the lakeside road.
The wet tarmac is sizzling in the heat from the late morning sun. Everything is drying really quickly after the downpour. It must be twenty-five degrees today, at least. I walk past the hotel where there are already holidaymakers in the garden, sipping iced drinks. I spy Sylvia through the window, talking to one of her staff in the restaurant. Thinking of how hard she must work to make the hotel a success makes me feel glad that, for once, I’ve stepped off the treadmill and am able to let my mind roam free. Did Sylvia always want to own a hotel? What would I do if I could be anything I liked? Anything at all?
The answer to this question is easy and always has been.
I’d be a writer. How amazing would it be to earn a living doing something I really love? I’m aware of how difficult it would be to get published. But there’s something about today that feels inspiring. Maybe it’s the blue sky after the rain, or the sense of endless possibilities I’m feeling with hours ahead of me to do what I like.
Is my book good enough to start submitting to literary agents or even directly to publishers? Mum thought so but she was obviously biased.
I’ve never shown the book to anyone but her. Not even Toby has read it. He hasn’t really shown any curiosity about it, but then I suppose he’s always so busy with his own work. And of course it wouldn’t exactly be to his taste. When Toby reads, it’s usually big historical tomes about the Napoleonic Wars or something equally riveting. In any case, I’d be scared he’d think it was rubbish and then I’d have to face the fact that I’ve been living in dreamland all this time, thinking I might have some talent.
Growing warmer with the exercise, I take off my cardigan and tie it around my waist, so my limbs are bare in the pink camisole top and shorts. Leaving the road, I cross the grass to the edge of the lake. Removing my shoes and socks, I find a flattish rock to sit on and slide my feet into the cold water. It’s so clear I can see the green tendrils of some aquatic fern winding round my ankle.
I take out my apple and munch on it, staring out across the lake, trying to think about the heroine in my book, but unable to stop thoughts of Maple Tree House slipping into my head and taking over.
There’s nothing I can do today without access to a car. But maybe I could persuade Toby to drive along there later, when he gets back. It’s the least he can do, really, considering he promised to spend time with me and I’ve barely seen him!
A huge yawn escapes. I’m exhausted after getting so little sleep last night during our intense bug massacre. I could just do with curling up on this grassy bank and falling fast asleep. But the sun is beating down and I’d be burned to a frazzle.
I stare longingly at the woods on the opposite bank. They look shady and invitingly cool.
Drying my feet on the grass, I decide to walk barefoot by the lake instead of heading back to the road. It takes longer but I’m enjoying just being out on my own, doing what I like, instead of having to worry about whether Toby is enjoying himself.
An hour later, after a slow meander around the lake, stopping every now and then for a swig of water, I’m finally nearing the woods. I take a last look at the hotel on the opposite bank and I pick out our tent along to the right. Then I take the path into the woods.
I quickly realise that there isn’t just one way through. The main path branches off at intervals in different directions, and when I arrive at an ancient horse chestnut tree that seems to be sitting at a fork in the way, I decide to take the least worn path. Toby would think I was silly for doing this. He would say we really ought to stick to the tried and trusted route; that we could land ourselves in danger if we deviate from the path.
But today, the thought of Toby’s caution in all things just really irritates me.
To hell with him and his longing to be back in civilisation! I want to make the most of this glorious countryside. So, I’ll take the road least travelled and see where it leads me …
It’s cool in the forest and the scents are earthy and intoxicating. The sudden rustles as I walk by tell me I’m definitely not the only creature exploring this woody wonderland today. The trees are magnificent – some of them are so enormous they could have been there for a century. The thought of this makes me feel a little dizzy, as I stare up into the branches of a towering, gnarly oak tree – spying slivers of blue sky above – thinking of the long-dead person who must have planted it.
Every so often, a shaft of sunlight pierces the leafy canopy overhead, spilling dappled sunshine onto the rich earth and twigs beneath my feet.
After an hour or so of walking, I find myself in a little clearing among the trees where the sun filters through, and I decide it would be the perfect place to stop and eat my sandwich.
I sit down on the soft bracken, leaning back against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree, and munch my ham sandwich, lazily waving away the odd flying bug that would have driven Toby crazy if he’d been here.
I smile to myself. There’s no way Toby would have sat down. The bugs would have ruined any attempt to relax, and he wouldn’t have wanted to get all manner of nasty earthy stuff on his expensive jeans. A fleeting feeling of dismay comes over me when I think of the future if Toby and I stay together.
Will I be sentenced to a lifetime of swatting bugs?
I glance around the clearing, enjoying the peace. If I stay with Toby, it won’t be the sort of relationship I dreamed of finding when I was younger. But aren’t all those romantic notions of blissful true love and happy-ever-after just something you read about in novels? They’re hardly the basis for a life-long relationship …
I finish my sandwich and take a long swallow of water. Then, feeling the post-lunch dip in energy more than usual because I was up all night with my rolled-up newspaper, I decide I’ll have just five minutes lying on the lovely soft green bracken, with my cardigan as a pillow.
Lying down, I close my eyes. It’s surprisingly comfortable and I feel like a character in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, pausing a while in their nocturnal wanderings to rest under a shady tree.
The sound of birdsong and the breeze rustling gently through the leaves is the perfect soundtrack for relaxation and, within seconds, I find myself drifting off to sleep …
*
The next thing I’m aware of is opening my eyes and not being able to see a thing.
Panicking, I stare into the pitch darkness.
And then the same old flashback starts playing in my head …
It’s dark and I’m in a spooky place – no houses, just snowy hedges on either side. And I’m running. I’m clinging tight to something I’m terrified I’m going to lose. The scariest thing of all, though, is the hoarse gasping noise that’s so loud in my ears. It’s as if someone is right behind, trying to catch me – but when I glance back, there’s nothing there. Panic grips me. I need to go back but something is stopping me. Then the thing I’m holding slips from my hands and I start to howl …
An owl hoots close by, jerking me from the dark place in my head.
Sitting up, I hear rustling noises beneath me and I stare into the black void, my heart banging against my ribs. A second later, my eyes start to adjust and, through the grey gloom, I see the ghostly outline of branches reaching out towards me.
And then I remember.
Eating my ham sandwich sitting under the oak tree and thinking I’d lie down and have just forty winks …
I must have been asleep for hours!
Scrambling to my feet, I dig in my pocket for my phone so I can switch on the light and find my way out of the forest. But it’s out of charge. Horror leaps in my chest at the thought of being trapped in the woods all night. What will Toby think? I’ve no idea how late it is. Will he be back yet? Will he come looking for me? But he won’t have a clue where to find me.
My heart is racing but I tell myself to keep calm. The best thing is probably to try and head back the way I came. But the path, which was fairly faint in daylight, is now almost invisible, so all I’ve got is my instinct and a rough idea of the direction I came from.
It’s just a forest. There aren’t any monsters. It’s going to be fine.
Something digs me in the back and I scream. Spinning around, I realise it’s just a branch and relief makes me laugh out loud at my own ridiculousness.
For goodness’ sake, get a grip, girl! It’s just a forest. There aren’t any monsters.
I shake my head, chuckling at my idiocy. The trouble with having an active imagination is you can end up making a melodrama out of nothing! What on earth did I imagine was going to happen? That I’d be attacked by a mad axe murderer, who lives in the forest and hangs around just waiting for the next knackered explorer to fall asleep under a tree?
I stumble away, trying desperately to find the path, but panic is building inside me. I keep blundering into trees, sharp twigs scratching my face, and getting my feet tangled in what must be fallen branches.
Minutes later, I realise I’ve lost all sense of direction. I’m staggering around with no idea where I’m going. In fact, I have the horrible feeling I’m probably walking in circles, getting precisely nowhere.
And everything looks so sinister and ghostly …
Next second, a dark hulking shape rears out of the gloom, and my heart leaps into my mouth. I freeze in horror as The Thing walks towards me.
It’s going to get me! I’m going to die a grisly death, right here in this bloody wood! Why didn’t I go to Maple Tree House while I had the chance? Now it’s too late and I’ll never meet my birth mother!
I walk slowly backwards until I can feel the solid trunk of the oak tree at my back. Then I move behind it, hoping The Thing hasn’t spotted me.
If I stay here and keep very still, I might just make it out of here alive …
A torch shines in my face and a gruff voice barks, ‘You? What the hell are you doing roaming the woods at this time of night?’