by

Killing Time – Part 2

She had very little contact with people these days, it was safer that way. But there was something different about the man she’d met in the woods, she felt she needed to see him again but the worrying thing was she didn’t know why. For ten years she’d lived in her own little cocoon. For her, it was simple, she knew she couldn’t trust the human race and she’d found this out the hard way. It was 6 o’clock and still no man. He’s not going to come. She felt dismayed. Let down. Oh hell, she thought, run out of milk who cares…..she made herself a pot of tea.

As a teenager she had written many poems, all lost now, but she could remember the first few lines of one vividly.

‘She sits and stares, through empty hollow eyes,

desperate for love, for someone who cares’.

As she made the coffee these lines filled her head.

It was too stuffy in the house so she went outside and sat down in the shade of the wise old apple tree with her cup of tea. What an adventure life had proved to be . Not so long ago she’d noticed a Land Rover, an old model that was parked outside a post office in a small neighbouring and forgotten village. On it was written ‘One life, Live it’. She smiled.

Yes, she had certainly done that in this strange, unforgiving land. She closed her eyes and let her spirit evaporate in the heat of the evening. She was free to roam where she liked, she could visualise it all so clearly. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the ground with a silent splash. She remembered the day her father had taken her for a walk in the woods, how he had put his arm around her shoulder. Sitting there she could feel his warmth again and it felt good. He spoke to her in a quiet voice as they strolled amongst the fallen autumn leaves. She hung on his every word as he explained that his time had come and how it was going to be up to her. He stressed the words ‘very soon’. If only she’d known what those words had meant. At the time her innocence had shielded her from the full effect of what her father was saying and now she understood why it had been better that way. She had asked him questions, she forgave him for having sold her pony. She had come to understand that some things just can’t be changed, not matter how much a person tried.

She gazed around her feeling at peace with her surroundings. She lay down under the tree looking up at the sky. It was still pretty hot even though the sun was low in the sky. The weather was weird, something was happening. She didn’t quite understand the strange events of the last few weeks. This worried her because for the first time in her life she felt truly alone. Her eyes snapped open at this thought. Not good, she told herself, not good at all. She called to her dogs and all three came running over to her, disturbing a heron as they did. She hadn’t noticed this silent witness standing immobile at the edge of the big pond.

The dogs bounced around her as she stood up. Time to go, she told them. They took the steep track that led into the woods, the light was still good so she could see the top of the trail, right to where the trees swallowed it up in the distance. As usual the dogs were way ahead of her. Their instincts that much stronger than her own, they knew they had to clear the way, they understood their job well and waited for her to catch them up a certain point along the track just before the darkness of the trees swallowed up the waning light. At the top of the track she took a sharp right by a large stone, one of her landmarks. There were a lot of fallen trees covered in lush green moss, the bracken was high so she called her dogs to heel. They came to her and stood panting beside her, they were alert. Behind, she told them. They obeyed. She then started to move forward counting as she went, the dogs hot on her heels. When she got to fifty five, she stopped and dropped down on her haunches. It was still there, the sad dead eyes of the deer were staring up at her forlornly.

Slowly she pushed the bracken away from the deer’s body. Her dogs were nervous but they didn’t make a sound. She ran her hand down the dead animals’ neck. It’s coldness touched every nerve in her body. She carefully felt her way over the cold fur until she found the lump. Something very small and sharp was protruding from the animal’s shoulder and it shimmered in the darkening light. Her hand glowed as she pulled the object out of the carcass. She held the spherical object in her hands and stared at it for a moment or two and then sat down. They’re back, she told her dogs.

Jumping up she took a black bag out of her pocket and slipped the object into it then laid it down on the ground. She called her young dog over to her and got him to sit next to the cold body of the deer. It was young, a buck. The dog didn’t take his eyes off her as she knelt down next to the innate animal. Gently she picked up it’s head so that the animal was looking directly at her through it’s dead dull eyes. Her hands glowed and her paler than pale green eyes glowed darkly reflecting in the deer’s own dead and lifeless ones. It happened quickly, in the blink of an eye. Suddenly the deer was standing in front of her, it panicked for one single moment before falling to it’s knees. The exhausted animal settled down in the lush bracken licking its lips, chewing and breathing heavily. She fell back too, exhausted. Just in time, she whispered as she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, deep sleep. Her dogs stood guard around her, they’re eyes glowing dimly.

She was with her father again. It was thirty years since he’d left her but here she was with him again -  on the sail boat he kept in the Med. She loved her sailing days with her father, he taught her so much. Not just the sailing but everything else. He taught her the things she’d need to know to stay alive – although at the time she didn’t realise it.

by

Killing Time Part 1

She was waiting. She seemed to have spent her whole life waiting.

The man said he’d contact her at 3pm. It was 5 o’clock but there was still no sign of him.

She couldn’t think of anything else to do to kill time. Another coffee?

No that meant she’d run out of milk and with no car to get to the shops she was scuppered, a beached whale in the middle of a desert of trees.

Was that a car she could hear? She wondered if she could trust this stranger she’d met in the woods.

The trees muffled the sound of the car as it slowly disappeared into the distance.

She remembered her father once telling her not to trust anybody outside the family. She had been six or seven at the time. She hadn’t really listened to him but then you don’t at that age.

She pondered on the times she and her fellow borders had waited excitedly for parents or guardians to pick them up at half terms or for the school holidays. It was noisy and bustling in the entrance hall of the beautiful stately building as the girls milled around in anticipation of seeing their parents again. Henry VIII had built the elegant statuesque house for one of his queens, she couldn’t remember which one.

A wistful expression appeared on her face at the memory of watching all her class mates and other girls as they disappeared through the grand double doors with luggage in hand clutching a parents hand and chattering as only children do when they get too excited. She saw herself standing alone in the empty entrance hall. The large chandelier above her head shimmering as rays of coloured light burst through the stained glass windows and delicately danced in a dusty haze, illuminating the crystals in a mysterious and fantastical way.

One of the nuns came and gently lead her to their scullery. The kindly nun made her a sandwich, treated her to a slice of cake and a drink. She comforted her by reading her a story.

He had forgotten. Her brother had forgotten to pick her up. Again.

Another lonely night in the desolate dormitory. She was allowed to keep her bedside lamp on all night but she couldn’t sleep so she turned it off and lay there in the darkness listening to the nothingness around her.

And then there was the time she had come home for half term. For a change her father had been in England and she was going to spend the time at ‘home’ with the family but far more importantly with her pony.

When the driver dropped her off she was excited. At the first opportunity she rushed to the stables only to find there was no pony. She checked the paddocks—she searched everywhere, nothing. On returning to the house she had been told the pony had been sold. She’d outgrown him and that was it.

Devastation, such a new emotion for a young girl to feel. She said nothing.

That night alone in her room, she didn’t cry she just sat staring out of her bedroom window at the empty paddock, she waited. She waited for the sun to rise.

She’d spent most of her childhood in boarding schools, first in France and then England. For the major school breaks, Christmas and summer, she’d fly out to the Far East to spend the holidays with her family. She and her brother were members of the B.O.A.C. club. They had a book which was stamped every time they travelled abroad and their books were very full. She smiled at the memory.

She remembered how in Thailand the locals would stare at her, it made her feel embarrassed. Uncomfortable. She had asked her mother why they stared at her and was told it was because of the colour of her hair which was a deep golden auburn.

She came out of her reverie and gazed down the long,  lonely and dusty drive as she ran her fingers through her long greying hair hoping the man would show up. She bent down and stroked one of her dogs gently on his head smiling at him as he panted in the heat, looking up at her, sitting snugly by her leg. He was such a loyal soul.

Her younger dog was chasing insects and leaping into the air with pure delight, like a demon creating a cloud of dust as he did. He never caught anything except that one time when he caught a dragonfly. These days he never chased them, she would often watch him sitting quietly staring unerringly at a dragonfly as it darted over and across the pond. He sat there mesmerised just as she did so long ago when she watched those magical rays as they lit up the chandelier in the entrance hall of her school. She found it enchanting to spy him sitting peacefully at the edge of a stream with these delicate creatures floating in the air around him. He never moved a muscle.