Madeleine pushed her feet into the soft white slippers as she simultaneously slipped into her over-washed white dressing gown. She headed for the bathroom, where she ran her finger across the numerous bottles of bubble bath, and carefully selected a tall bottle of aqua-green liquid. She poured an ample amount into the already steaming water and swished it around with her fingers allowing the bubbles to form and the smell of aloe to fill the room.
Walking back into the bedroom, she spied the outline of her daughter snuggled beneath both a pile of teddy bears and a pink Peppa Pig quilt. She pulled the door closed as the soft, gentle snores filled her room and gave Madeleine the reassurance that Poppy would sleep for hours.
Collecting a towel from the cupboard, she returned to the bathroom and slipped into the water, allowing her body to sink deep beneath the bubbles where the warmth enveloped her as she submerged both her hair and her body. Only her eyes, nose and mouth remained above the water. And for the first time since she’d arrived at the hall she realised that she felt totally settled and content.
A flash lit up the room and then a sudden noise vibrated through the air. It was so loud it made her sit up, wondering what the noise was and where it had come from. She jumped from the water to go to Poppy and ran into her room, where she immediately realised that her baby hadn’t moved. Poppy’s tiny body remained curled up in a ball and she’d slept soundly through the noise.
Madeleine stood for a moment, listening. Then somewhere in the distance, a pipe clanked and Madeleine grabbed a towel, suddenly realising that she was standing in the middle of the room naked and dripping bubbles and water all over the carpet.
Another flash lit up the room and she realised that it was lightning, followed by a clap of thunder; it was this that had disturbed her bath and she relaxed slightly as she pulled at the towel and quickly began to dry herself.
Madeleine switched off the light and opened the curtains in order to watch the storm. It was something she’d always done and something her mother had done before her. The rain came down in torrents, fast and furious, with water bouncing up from the ground. Flashes of lightning brightened the sky like floodlights at a football match and every part of the garden was lit up, only to fall into darkness just a few seconds later.
Madeleine’s eyes darted to the greenhouse. Something had attracted her attention. She saw a movement and waited for the sky to once again explode with light before she could look again. Something or someone was out there, but she couldn’t quite make out what it had been as the darkness once again blanketed the garden.
She stared intently into the night.
‘Come on, come on, one more flash,’ she whispered.
* * *
Bandit stared up at the greenhouse, wiped his hair from his face and forcibly pushed at a stubborn piece of wood which had previously refused to move. He took a deep breath as the wind and rain made it difficult for him to see. He needed more light but it had faded fast and the storm hadn’t helped as deep, dark clouds hovered above him. Pulling his hood up and over his head he carried on tearing one sheet of glass after the other out of the greenhouse frame. He struggled with his gloves: they were old and torn and made it difficult for him to grip. The glass slipped in his hold and fell from his fingers. It crashed to the floor, making him curse before pulling the gloves off and dropping them on the wall. His damaged hand was loosely bandaged, painful and, due to the constant movement, still oozing blood. He felt around in his pocket and pulled out an old piece of tissue, which he pushed beneath the loose, dirty bandage in an attempt to stem the bleed.
He began counting the sections of the wooden structure. Only the four sections closest to him needed replacing. The rest of the greenhouse was dry; all other panels intact and sound. They could easily be repaired in situ and had been protected by the brick wall that stood behind it.
‘For heaven’s sake, Bandit. What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Madeleine screamed through the noise of the storm, making him jump.
Their eyes locked. The weather was ferocious and dangerous to be out in, but for some reason he was pleased to see her. He stood for a moment thinking of what to say and stared at the big doe eyes that looked back at him. There was something about her that made him want to spend time with her, want to find out more about her, but tonight in this weather should not be the night.
‘Go back to the house. You’ll catch your death of cold,’ he shouted half-heartedly, hoping that she’d refuse and want to stay. Not many women would want to be out in this weather and neither would most men, but tonight he was on a mission. Tonight, he was determined to keep his promise to Poppy and to make the greenhouse safe.
‘I will not. I saw you from the window,’ she shouted as another crash of thunder echoed through the sky. She ducked and threw her arms above her head as though waiting for something to hit her. ‘What the hell are you doing, working in the middle of a storm? Surely my father doesn’t pay you enough to do this?’
‘I don’t do this for the money. I do this because it’s not safe. I promised Poppy that it’d never hurt her again, and it won’t,’ he shouted back, barely able to hear the sound of his own voice. ‘Please. Go back inside, you’re soaked.’
He averted his eyes. Madeleine’s shoulder length blonde hair was already drenched, rivulets of water ran down her face and her nylon top was fast clinging to her body, the shape of her figure becoming more and more apparent.
* * *
‘Can’t this wait till morning? You know, we could do this tomorrow, together?’ She held up her arms and pointed to the sky wondering if he’d noticed the torrential weather, or had his training in the marines stopped him from feeling the wet and the cold? She noticed the cheeky grin he gave her and looked down, suddenly realising that her T-shirt was now completely soaked from the rain. It was now totally see-through and she turned her back to him, to quickly zip up her coat and hide her breasts.
Bandit frowned. ‘Where’s Poppy? You haven’t left her on her own, have you?’
‘No, of course I haven’t. I had two choices, lock her in a cupboard or bring her out to play in a thunderstorm.’
Bandit stared at her. ‘Seriously, why would you do that?’
‘Hey, do you really think I would do that? I gave Nomsa the baby monitor. She’s promised to listen out for her between jobs, not that Poppy will wake up. Once she’s asleep, waking her is like waking the dead.’ Madeleine laughed as she stood back, stepped on an uneven slab and wobbled precariously on the spot.
Bandit’s hand grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Steady. Are you okay?’
She nodded, stepped backwards and turned away, looking back at the house.
The windows shone light towards her, creating small spotlit areas around the garden. But one by one, the lights were slowly being turned off as guests retired for the night, totally unaware of what was happening in the garden outside their windows.
Madeleine turned her attention to the job in hand. ‘Do you have night vision or something?’ she asked in an attempt to break the tension. She squinted in the darkness. ‘’Cos, if you haven’t noticed, it happens to be dark and, what’s more, there’s a storm raging above your head.’
She could tell by his mannerisms that he was determined to carry on; he’d already turned and had begun pulling at the panes of glass and she knew that he was strong-minded and the work would get done, storm or no storm. Looking for cover, she marched to the rear of the greenhouse, just as the rain began to ease.
‘Okay. Tell me the plan. What are we doing and where do I start?’ Madeleine watched his reaction as she spoke. His whole body had come to a complete stop. He simply stood and stared at her for what seemed an eternity. The rain now fell in gentle drizzles from the sky. It was a moment of reflection, a moment of tranquillity amongst the carnage and a moment when Bandit seemed at peace with the task.
Walking around the greenhouse had become difficult and, after her previous wobble, Madeleine found herself balancing on an old, discarded piece of wood to avoid the mud beneath her feet, which was now a quagmire of sludge along with years of weeds that had grown up and in between the slabs.
After what seemed an age Bandit moved towards her, nervously tugging at the blood-soaked bandage that hung from the hand that he held out to where she stood.
‘It’s falling off, could you?’ He moved nervously from one foot to the other.
‘Of course, here, let me look at that for you,’ she said as she pulled him to the rear of the greenhouse and tenderly turned his hand over, trying to see what she was dealing with. They stood, sheltered from the rain amongst the mud, weeds and concrete slabs. Beside them, bags of stored wood and wooden crates full of flowerpots were pushed under an old rotting shelf, along with old tins of paint, empty jars and plastic trays.
She pulled the bandage off his hand. There was just enough light from the house to show her the wound beneath. She gasped; the cut looked sore, open and raw. ‘You need to get this looked at. Let me get Jack to take you to the hospital.’
‘No chance. It’s fine. I have to work. I made a promise.’ He shrugged her off and began walking back to the door.
‘Oh, no, you don’t. At least let me dress that for you.’ Madeleine pulled a clean handkerchief from her pocket and used it to press against the wound whilst struggling to re-wind the bandage in the darkness.
‘Are you always this bossy?’ He grinned. ‘And who the hell carries a handkerchief in their pocket these days?’ He pulled a face as he kept his hand held out towards her.
‘A mother, that’s who. Mothers always carry handkerchiefs, baby wipes and pockets full of everything else a child tends to need. I probably have a dummy in here somewhere,’ she threw back in retort as she patted her pocket and placed the bandage on her knee. ‘Do you have kids?’ She had no idea why she’d asked, but the question had sprung into her mind and somehow dropped out of her mouth.
‘No, no kids. I guess I never met the right woman.’ He looked anxiously up at the sky and once again the rain began to drum softly on what was left of the greenhouse roof. ‘But, saying that, my father was forty-four when I was born, so you never know, God willing, maybe there’s time.’
‘Do you know what, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that, should I? It was none of my business and I really didn’t mean to intrude.’
‘It’s fine. I do want kids. So, you never know, maybe one day.’ He tried to smile and put her back at ease as she struggled to rearrange the bandage in the dark.
‘I do wish I had a new dressing. This one’s a bit dirty and the wound looks nasty,’ she whispered as the last of the bandage was reapplied over the handkerchief and secured at the wrist.
‘Here.’ He picked up the gloves and passed them to her. ‘If you’re staying, you’re going to need these.’ He smiled as he picked up a torch and along with the gloves, threw them both in her direction. ‘That is, if you still want to help?’
Madeleine looked at the pair of dirty gloves, pulled them on and tried not to think about what may or may not be lurking inside.
‘As I pass the glass to you, carefully take it and put it in the wheelbarrow,’ Bandit instructed as she saw the first pane of glass being lowered down to her. ‘Prop the torch near the barrow, it’ll help light up the area for you.’
She balanced the torch on the windowsill and pointed it directly towards where they worked. Carefully taking the first piece of glass from him, she lowered it into the wheelbarrow and then turned to Bandit. She watched and waited as he pulled the next piece from the structure and placed it in her hands. Some pieces were whole, but most were not and each one looked sharp and dangerous. Madeleine dreaded to think what would have happened to Poppy if Bandit hadn’t reacted so quickly.
Bandit climbed up a ladder and began pulling at the remainder of the glass. As each piece was pulled from its wooden frame, Madeleine gasped and waited for it to crash to the ground, but when it didn’t, she felt a breath of relief leave her body as she mentally counted the ones that remained. The four panels had almost been taken apart as the last light from the house windows went out. Now only the torchlight showed them where to place the glass, whilst perfectly silhouetting Bandit’s body as he reached up in the moonlight.
Suddenly, and without warning, the rain once again began to pour. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, making Madeleine jump and she screamed and slipped all at once. Her feet were there one minute and gone the next and she felt herself falling.
‘Throw it,’ Bandit screamed as a look of fear and anguish crossed his face.
In a split second, her hands threw the glass and she heard it drop into the wheelbarrow, shattering loudly: just as she fell heavily in the mud. Pain seared through her arms and buttocks, which had cushioned her fall, and both now hurt and were stippled with gravel.
Bandit jumped down from the ladder and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Are you okay? Don’t move, let me check you out.’
She saw the words leave his lips as he looked deep into her eyes, searching for her pain. ‘Where does it hurt?’ he asked as she felt his hands move quickly and expertly over her limbs, checking and searching for signs of trauma, whilst his eyes stayed firmly on hers.
‘Just my pride and my backside,’ Madeleine replied, ‘and I really don’t think you want to check that out, do you?’
She pulled herself out of his grip, sat up and grabbed the torch. ‘I’m just going to sit over there for a while. Is that okay?’ she said as she pointed to a crate at the back of the greenhouse where she would be shielded from the rain.
He helped her to her feet and she walked further into the greenhouse, turned the crate over, sat down and turned her body away from Bandit’s gaze, closing her eyes as she did so. Her whole body began to shake as tears cascaded down her face. He couldn’t see her cry. She wouldn’t allow him to see her cry.
The fall had wounded her pride. Not to mention the throbbing she now felt in her hands, backside and lower back. The glass shattering had frightened her, but Bandit’s reaction had frightened her more. The look in his eyes had been deep and cavernous, yet once again she’d noticed the mixture of terror and vulnerability in his eyes that she’d seen there when he’d comforted Poppy.
Bandit seemed so dependable, so very protective, yet it was more than obvious that there was something he feared. What had happened to him to make him terrified of both the past and of the future? She watched him work; he must have a story and, as a writer, it intrigued her.
Madeleine began pulling at boxes and crates that lay under the disused shelves. She needed something to do, to concentrate on to stop her from crying. Her torch flashed in between the crates and followed a huge spider that ran out from its hiding space, making her throw one of the gloves towards where it ran in the hope that it would change its route and head in the opposite direction. She smirked as she remembered how terrified Liam had been of spiders. Even small ones had made him squeal like a child and he’d jumped on a chair the last time he’d spotted one, leaving her to catch it and throw it outside. She watched the area where the spider had run, ensuring it had gone, before pulling out more and more boxes and checking their contents before discarding them and moving onto the next. Most were filled with old gardening equipment, plant pots and chopped up wood. All were covered in years of dirt. Each box moved revealed different contents, all with the same covering of grime.
Most of the pots and trays could probably be thrown away. But some could be used again, and Madeleine wondered if she could start a vegetable garden with Poppy.
There was another crash of thunder, making her jump up and she carefully made her way back to where Bandit stood.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he shouted above the noise of the storm and picked up the wheelbarrow handles, quickly running out of the greenhouse and towards a door.
‘Where to? The house?’
‘No. Let’s shelter in here for a while, it’s closer and that storm’s coming in worse.’
Bandit opened a door that was buried in the wall behind the greenhouse and pushed Madeleine inside. ‘Wait here. I’m going to get rid of the glass.’
Madeleine immediately fumbled with the torch and shone it in through the door. The shelter was a brick room, around fifteen feet square with what looked like an old steam train engine standing in the corner, with a bench to its side. It was surprisingly clean and polished and looked as though it had recently been lit.
‘What is this place?’ she asked as Bandit returned.
‘It’s the old boiler room. The engine is a heater for the greenhouse. The original owner used to grow grapes and the boiler kept the grapes warm. He was a part of the rail industry, which meant that he had access to steam trains.’ He pointed to the engine. ‘I know it’s not, but it looks like new. I bet we could get it going if I had some dry wood.’
Madeleine flashed her torch around the shelter. No wood jumped out but the intense and direct light of her torch did catch sight of something under the engine. ‘What’s that?’
She pointed the torch at what she’d seen and Bandit got down on all fours and then onto his side to look underneath.
‘I’m not sure. It looks like a metal box,’ he answered. ‘It must have been under there for years. It looks as though it’s purposely been pushed underneath. I’m surprised it’s not scorched.’
‘Can you pull it out?’ Madeleine asked eagerly as she watched Bandit struggle to move the box. He looked around for a tool and used an old metal bar to manoeuvre the box out.
‘It’s probably just full of seeds,’ he said as he placed it on the floor before her.
‘Can you open it?’ Madeleine whispered.
He opened the lid easily and then pulled away tissue paper that lay within to reveal a small book. Madeleine held the torch closer and noticed the words ‘Emily Ennis’ clearly written on the front.
‘Oh, my word,’ she whispered as she carefully lifted the perfectly intact book from out of the metal tin.
‘I think you’ve just found one of Emily Ennis’s diaries,’ Bandit said as his fingers carefully turned the paper-thin page to reveal a beautiful script-like handwriting. ‘Here, take a look.’