A Moment In Time

I glanced at my watch, not for the first time, I might add, as I sat on the sofa, waiting.

"He's late," I muttered to no one in particular. "Not a good impression for a first date."

Just when I had almost given him up, a sharp rap on the door announced his arrival. Sally, my flatmate, and best friend forever galloped down the stairs to let him, announcing his arrival in her usual manner.

"Maggie! Your date's here!" she yelled, although the tiny flat certainly did not warrant such a noisy announcement. "She's through ..." I saw her point vaguely in my general direction and wandered back up the narrow staircase leading to the two tiny bedrooms and even tinier bathroom in what was essentially the roof space. My date poked his head through the arch opening that led to our multi-purpose kitchen/diner/lounge area which took up the rest of the ground floor.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, and that was it. No explanation, just a breezy apology. I took in his fresh, just-graduated-from-high-school face sitting atop a slim, athletic body and shrugged. Guess I could do worse.

"No probs, Brad," I said. "Do you want a drink before we go, or should we just ..."

Why did I do this? I just wanted to get this date over and done with. I hope I hid my annoyance with a cheery smile. And I hope it didn't come across as a grimace.

"Nah. We should just get going. Don't want to miss ... erm ..." His voice trailed off, vanishing into the next thought and he motioned for me to accompany him to the door. My door, mind you. I don't think he noticed my thick, usually curly hair that Sally had kindly spent hours straightening, or my skin-tight jeans topped with a dainty, flowy top; my flawless make-up ... In fact, I doubt he even really looked at me at all! I sighed, glanced at Sally peaking at us from the top of the stairs, shooting daggers at her and followed him out to the red sports.

It was a lovely day out, the one day of summer, I'd say; a beautiful but incredibly rare sunny early English Summer’s day. The top was down and I thought he'd raise it before we took off. He didn't. Normally, I'd have been thrilled to drive in a classy little sports car. If I'd known this was how we'd be traveling, I'd have been more prepared. I decided to see how it went, but after a very short ride, I couldn't stand being hair-whipped any longer so I gathered it all behind me and knotted it into a messy bun. It helped, a little. I had to hold the bun to keep it from unraveling, but at least with the top down, there was really no opportunity for conversation. And for once, the radio was playing decent tunes.

****

Of all the luck! I arranged a date, the first with Maggie, this babe I met online, and wouldn’t you know it, Argyle are in the semis. I thought I should probably cancel the date and watch the game instead, but then I remembered just how gorgeous she was, and I didn't think she'd appreciate that. I really haven't been out with a chick this gorgeous since ... Well, let's just say it's been a while. I decided to go and told myself I could watch the game on my iPhone, during the date.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I was just a little late picking her up, but she looked at me like I was hours late. Come to think of it, I may have been a half-hour late. There's really no excuse considering it turns out I actually live very close (amazing that we hadn't bumped into each other before this), but the match started and I just thought I'd pick her up during half time, and I figured we could just about make it there during the ads before the next half. Well, sticking to times isn't really my strong suit. She actually offered me a drink before we went, but I was sticking to a schedule - I needed to get to the castle before half-time started - or at the very least, before the game was over.

I picked her up in an MG Roadster I'd borrowed for the date. You know, got to impress the lady! She looked gorgeous, even better than her profile picture, which in itself is amazing because, in my vast experience, the girls never look as good as their pics. There's an exception to every rule!

Anyway, the weather was perfect - so hot. Our one day of summer had decided to arrive today. To celebrate, I decided we'd travel with the top down. If any of my mates saw me, I wanted them to be sure to see this beauty I'd picked up. The conversation was going to be difficult, so I tuned in to Heart Radio and just let the radio do the talking. I don't think she minded the radio, but I did notice we hadn't gone very far when she'd grabbed all that gorgeous hair and twisted it into a messy knot at the back of her head. And she kept holding it as if it was going to blow away. She looked rather like one of my teachers at school - NOT my favorite, and I was a little put off by that. Still, I had made the effort to come on this date, and I was going to put any negative thoughts behind me. Enjoy the day. I did wish she'd just let her hair fly, though. Or maybe she could have worn a pretty scarf. Never mind.

***

It was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived at the ruined Berry Pomeroy castle we'd chosen as a neutral spot for our first date. This is a magical castle, hidden from view by the forest in which it was built. I jumped out of the car, released my hair from the ridiculous bun, and combed my fingers through it, gently pulling out the knots, hoping to restore some order. I must have looked a sight – some lad out with his lady gave me a weird look and I caught the tail end of a malicious stare from her. I lowered my gaze, a little bit annoyed that she'd been so hostile. I really didn't set out to attract anyone – except perhaps Brad. He, though, was oblivious.

Brad grabbed my hand and almost dragged me into the ruin. I stopped to read the first of the information boards dotted in strategic places around the site. Brad dropped my hand and walked on ahead.

"Let's see if we can get some signal," he murmured. His phone had become attached to his hands and his eyes glued to the screen from the moment he had stepped inside the crumbling stone walls. He looked behind and saw me still standing there.

"You coming?" he asked, gesturing for me to join him in what I assumed he thought was a ‘come hither’ look. I'd finished reading the sign, so, with a reluctant sigh, I followed him to a park bench in a secluded spot with a view. We sat together in what I can only describe as an awkward silence. Brad checked his phone while I sat with my hands clasped demurely in my lap, tapping my feet.

"Erm ... Shall we ... have a look around?" I just needed to move. The park bench was hard and already my butt was going numb.

"Hmm ... sure," Brad answered. "I'll just ...Woah, get in there!"

I glanced over at his phone to see ridiculously tiny men kicking a ball, a ball so small it was merely a white fleck on the screen.

Football! I shook my head and sat a while longer, waiting for him to pay me some attention. I wondered, not for the first time today, how I'd agreed to this date. Sure, he looked like his e-Harmony profile, but where was the adventure-loving romantic he had described? Certainly not sitting here beside me right now!

"What do you think this was?" I asked, waving my arms about to encompass the grassed area immediately around the park bench we were sitting on. It was a rough rectangle, delineated by whitened rock embedded into the ground. The walls of the castle were a good five or ten meters away. "I wonder if it was a small courtyard for the ladies to sun themselves. What do you think?" I prodded him with my make-believe parasol, waving a make-believe fan in front of my face to coquettishly cool my face.

"Huh? Oh, yeah ... probably."

"I'm just going to ..." I sighed and stood, stretching my now comatose butt. I wandered off towards another of the information boards. When I got there, I looked back. Brad, still engrossed in the football match, didn't seem to notice I was gone.

Some date this is turning out to be! I thought and mentally kicked myself for breaking my own rule about dating sites. If I was being perfectly honest, at the not-so-tender age of 25, I was beginning to despair of finding the man of my dreams within my limited social circle. Sally had met a wonderful man online and had encouraged me to give it a go. I will never, ever, not in a million years, put myself through this again! I left Brad to his football and went exploring.

I rounded the corner and stepped into a gloriously fragrant garden filled with roses, lavender, chrysanthemums, peonies, and daisies. Apple blossoms added their scent from a couple of trees strategically placed and surrounded by the colorful blossoms. A cobbled path led to a delightful well and I resisted the urge to toss a few coins in for good luck.

I stood for a minute, breathing in the warm, heady fragrance. The soft green lawn beckoned and I kicked off my pumps, letting my toes sink into the luxuriance. I bent to collect my shoes and rose to stand face-to-face with a young girl dressed in a simple black dress and frilly white apron. On her head was a white cotton mop cap and she carried a small tray, laden with the makings of a delicate afternoon tea for one.

"Where will you be wanting your tea, Lady Margaret?" she said.

"I ... erm ... that is to say ... erm ..."

I'm a naturally shy person, so stumbling over my words isn't new to me. The young girl was looking straight at me so I assumed it was me she was addressing, but I haven't been called Margaret for, well, forever. I know it's my name - I've seen my birth certificate - but even when I was naughty as a child, and let's face it, we all are at some stage, I was always called "Mags", or "Maggie", or even "Maggot" by some particularly nasty girls at school, but never "Margaret". And most certainly never "Lady" anything! I was about to say this but suddenly found my arm in a vice-like grip by an elegant but evidently angry woman. She was dressed in a flowing gown, low-waisted, and pulled in tight across her bust and waist, flowing over her hips, the skirt open to reveal an intricately embroidered underskirt in muted complementary colors. Her dress was delicate and feminine, but her demeanor was not.

"She'll take her tea in the tower. Run along," she snapped at the poor girl, who executed a perfect curtsy without so much as a clink of china or silverware.

"Yes, Lady Eleanor," she murmured and scuttled off in the direction of the tower to the right forming a corner of the castle wall immediately beside the main house.

I was impressed with her agility, but felt a little sorry for her, being the brunt of "Lady Eleanor's" ire, but I soon came to believe she had it lucky, compared to me.

"Come, my dear. You know it's not good for you to be outside on a day like this."

I thought this was a bit of play-acting taken to the extreme, and so I followed the older woman through the courtyard, which, to be honest, looked old, yet not as old as the outside of the castle had seemed when we first arrived. I was also surprised to see that, around the corner from where Brad and I had been sitting, there didn't appear to be a ruin at all. The garden I have already described, but the house! It was clearly habitable. Indeed, judging by the open windows with drapes wafting in the breeze, very comfortably so. The house appeared to be of a smooth cream stone, possibly a type of concrete covering the grey stone that the house must have been made from, if the ruin I had seen earlier was any indication.

We didn't go to the front entrance, although I tried to move in that direction. Lady Eleanor's grip on my arm tightened if it was at all possible, and I found myself being almost dragged away from the sounds of pleasant chatter and the clinking of china coming from the open windows of what may have been a parlor. Light piano music was playing – a real party which I was obviously not going to be attending.

"This is all very ... interesting ... but I really have to get back to my date ..." I felt my skin turn to ice as my companion, or rather, captor, turned her gaze on me. She looked angry, and I couldn't for the life of me understand why.

"I, I'm sorry," I stammered. "Do I know you? Where are we going?" Lady Eleanor shot me another scathing sideways look, lip curling in disgust.

"Really, Margaret. I tire of your games," and she yanked on my already aching arm, forcing me to continue to stroll alongside her. "And why on earth are you wearing your underwear outside?"

I looked down at my blue jeans and floaty peasant-style top, then back at her elaborate garb and shrugged. Really, what could I say? Clearly, this was not underwear I was wearing. I began to feel my companion might be insane, and so made the judicious decision to play along, for the moment. She dragged me over to the heavy wooden door that marked the entrance to the Tower, opened the door, and pushed me inside.

It was dark inside, at least, much darker than the brilliant sunshine of the garden. When my eyes adjusted, it was to see a spiral staircase leading upwards. Otherwise, the room was bare, the only light being provided by the open door behind me and a thin opening at the foot of the stairs. Lady Eleanor pushed me towards the stairs.

"Up you go," she said. There seemed to be nothing I could do but obey. Two hundred painful, stifling, claustrophobic steps later I found myself in a small circular room. I’m exaggerating. I’m sure it wasn’t two hundred steps but it certainly felt like it. This circular room was furnished.

A small canopied bed occupied a space between two tiny slits of windows and by another, a small table with a solitary chair was positioned. A small alcove on one 'side' of the circle, hidden from open sight by a heavy curtain, revealed what I could only assume was a latrine, a stone bench with a chute leading down. And the stench was counteracted somewhat by the sprigs of dried lavender, rosemary, rose petals, and other herbs hanging from yet another slit of window space. I think the heavy curtain was supposed to block some of the smell as well, and I'm sure it tried.

Opposite the latrine was a small dresser on top of which was a small freestanding mirror of polished metal, a rudimentary brush and comb set, and a pitcher and bowl. And beside that was a tri-fold screen, over which was draped a few beautiful dresses, similar to the one worn by Lady Eleanor.

I thought Lady Eleanor had followed me up but she hadn't, and so I thought I might as well have a bit of a rest before making my way back down. I sat on the solitary chair at the table by the window, looking out over the courtyard, or what I could see of it. A soft voice roused me from my introspection, and I saw the same maid from before.

"Your tea, M'Lady," she said, laying out the makings and then pouring a dainty drop into a piece of fine bone china. I thanked her, and, lifting the cup to my lips, blew gently on the hot liquid. The fragrant infusion pleased my nostrils and I took a tentative sip. It was still too hot and I grimaced. Something about the maid's manner caught my attention and I froze, the cup poised for a further sip.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

"N...No, M'Lady," she stammered, then gently took my cup from my hand and poured a bit of tea into the saucer. She then handed me the saucer. I frowned a little, but the sad look on her face suggested I may have done something wrong after all. I took the saucer and after testing the temperature with my lip, had a small sip. My actions were rewarded with a relieved smile.

"Will there be anything else, M'Lady?" she asked.

I smiled and shook my head, not really knowing what else to do. She curtsied and turned to go, then turned back to me and said, "We all hope you get well soon, M'Lady." She then curtsied again and fled down the stairs.

The tea had left an odd taste in my mouth, so I made an executive decision not to have any more of it. There was no sound in the tower. I assumed either the sound of the door closing was simply not audible from here, or the maid knew another way. This was all so strange. I had no idea what was going on and I had no intention of finishing this tea. Seeing as Lady Eleanor hadn't followed me upstairs I decided it was time to leave. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see only ten minutes had passed since I was sitting beside Brad, bored out of my skull, wishing I was anywhere but here. The funny thing is I still wished I wasn't here, but I found myself beginning to yearn for the company of the football-mad boy I had met on the internet.

***

Well, we lost the game and I turned to Maggie to finally get this date started. She wasn't there. I assumed she’d gone for a wander and if I was being perfectly honest, I would have done the same. Let’s face it, I was not a good date.

I wandered about the ruins, but could find no sign of her. Berry Pomeroy is simply a ruined wall enclosing an old castle, of which not much remains, and a crumbling mansion. Only at the entrance through the portcullis and to the right were there any complete rooms, and I had been in them, including the old keep, which was essentially a mini museum.

Outside the complex, English Heritage, who oversaw many of England’s ruins, had built a gift shop and tearooms, so I thought she may have wandered over there. She hadn’t. She also hadn’t wandered by the gate that led to the field where two gorgeous shire horses grazed, and she wasn’t in the women’s conveniences. I know this because I waited outside them for an uncomfortably long time.

By this time, I will admit to feeling a little annoyed with her. How dare she just wander off without telling me where she was going? I even thought she may have gone off with someone else, although it was only other couples and families who had come here, and, from what I could see, I was the only single person there. Maggie wasn’t there. Perhaps she’d called for a taxi!

I wandered back down to the car park, thinking she may have given up waiting for me inside, and decided to wait in the car. It was a convertible and I’d not bothered putting the canopy up. You don’t need to unless it’s raining. No one can steal it!

The car was empty.

I noticed a leggy blonde watching me as she walked back to her car with her companion. They both looked vaguely familiar and I wondered if perhaps they’d seen us. I asked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve misplaced that … bimbo you were with?” The leggy blonde sneered. Her companion shot her a puzzled look. He turned back to me.

“I remember. You arrived the same time we did. I haven’t seen your lady friend since. Sorry.” He shook his head at the leggy blonde and led her to their car. I wasn’t sure what all that was about. I doubted they actually knew Maggie, and I certainly had never seen them before today. At any rate, this wasn’t helping me find her.

I thought perhaps she may have decided to go for a walk in the woods around the castle, but remembering her footwear, I doubted it. I did wander a short way along the trail, but the recent rain had rendered the path pretty much impassable, and after only a very short distance, I could see no one had ventured down there today.

It was nearly closing time and now I was beginning to panic. I had her mobile number, of course, and dialed the number before realising I had no signal. If I had no signal, I could bet she didn’t either.

There was nothing for it. I would have to go back inside the ruin and look again. She had to be there somewhere.

***

I don’t know how long I sat at the small table with my cold tea on the tray in front of me. I couldn’t bring myself to drink it, and I admit to being a tad confused and just a little wary of this role-playing scenario I seemed to have become roped into.

Eventually, I made my way downstairs, thinking I’d like to take another turn in the garden, but was surprised to find that the garden door was locked. As the only other opening on the ground floor was the slit in the blocks for a window, I understood I was never going to get out that way, at least until this role play was over. The light coming in through the slit was not very bright, and the room itself was rather small, but I still hoped I’d find a way out. I ran my hands along the wall. Perhaps there would be a secret door leading to another part of the castle and from which I could make my escape. I could feel nothing.

I didn’t relish the walk back up those stairs, but I also didn’t fancy being in the dark for so long and so I slowly made my way up, feeling along the walls of the spiral staircase, hoping for another way out. I did find a very narrow door, also locked about a quarter of the way up, and then another a few more turns around the spiral. This one was shut, but my tentative efforts revealed that it could indeed be opened.

My elation was short-lived. It may have led to the main house, but at the end of a very short corridor was another door. And this one was locked. It did have the advantage of what passed for a window, however, but although it was slightly wider than the ones on the ground floor, it was still impassable to me.

I returned to the staircase and my upward journey. At what I estimated to be a few spirals short of what I had now come to think of as ‘my’ tower room, I came to another door. This one was obviously not locked as it was indeed ajar. I had missed it on my way down, but to be fair, I wasn’t looking at the time, intent as I was on regaining access to the garden.

I stepped through this door and found myself to be on what I believe may have once been termed a ‘widow’s walk’, simply a passageway around the roof of a house. There was a low block wall – about waist height, and I leaned against this wall, straining a little to see the ground below, wondering if this was how I could make my escape.

The ground was too far below.

I sighed and turned my back on the glorious view of Devon forest with barely a habitation in view. I was trapped. I knew it. What I didn’t know was how. Or even why. One minute I had been enjoying a stroll in the garden, trying to make the best of what had turned out to be a bit of a fizzle of a date, and the next… well, you know my story. ‘Lady Margaret’! Well, I’d rather be just plain ‘Maggie’ and right now I’d give anything to be home safe and well.

“There you are!”

My heart leaped to my throat at the harsh exclamation from Lady Eleanor.

“I was bored and wanted to take a stroll. The garden door seems to be locked so I came up here.”

“You didn’t have your tea,” she said, ignoring my comment about the locked door.

“I wasn’t thirsty.”

I turned back to the view.

“Why am I here?”

I don’t know if I expected an answer, but I certainly wanted one. As dates go, this was the strangest one I’d been on. I’d long gotten over my pique of sentimentality in wishing he was with me. I guess I was angry with him, blaming him for my being in this predicament. I never once thought he had actually wished me harm. It was just that his lack of attention had led to my wandering off on my own, and that had led to this. I had thought I was a ‘prisoner’ in some weird roleplay, but it had slowly dawned on me that I wasn’t just in a physical prison, and this was probably not a roleplay.

I knew enough about Berry Pomeroy Castle to know that there was only one area of the ruin that was anywhere close to being intact. And I was not in it.

I had a vague recollection of this ruin being haunted and I wondered if I had somehow managed to cross into another plane of existence. My rational mind told me not to be stupid, that this was an impossible fantasy, and not a good one at that. But my experiences! How else could I explain the serving girl, the haughty Lady Eleanor, the costuming? At first I had thought it was playacting, so that could explain all of that. But nothing in my experience could possibly explain the fact that I was now inside a fully-functional tower attached to a mansion that should have been just a shell.

I felt Lady Eleanor move closer to me. All my senses were now alert. It was no surprise that I didn’t trust her.

“Because, my dear sister,” and she spat out the words, leaving me in no doubt that the poor Lady Margaret was not liked by her sister at all, “you have caught the eye of the man I am going to marry.”

“But I …”

She grabbed my hair and dragged me to the other side of the roof along the walk.

“There! See how he looks for you, even now!”

I peered down at the garden below and by some trick of the light, I could see the garden as it once was, superimposed on the garden as it now is – just plain grass with ruined walls. I could see two men of similar build, one wearing stocking and breeches with a long coat and a tri-cornered hat, the other in faded blue denim jeans and a checked shirt, hatless with his spiky blond hair.

“Brad!” I screamed his name and for my troubles, had my hair yanked and I was dragged back towards the roof/tower access. I hoped, but couldn’t be sure, that he had heard me.

Lady Eleanor pushed me inside and I struggled to regain my footing, the spiral staircase being literally just inside the door. She let go of my hair in order to close and lock the door. What happened next I can only blame on my disorientation. I ran up the stairs!

Why did I not run down? I know the garden door was locked, but surely down would have been the obvious choice? Nevertheless, it was up that I went.

I made it to the tower room where I had been served my tea, but, what I hadn’t noticed before is that the staircase continued to climb. My room was not at the end of the staircase. I made a snap decision to climb higher.

The staircase opened out to the roof. Above me now was just air and around me was the crenelated wall of the top of the tower. I had nowhere to go. Despite the ridiculous gown she was wearing, and therefore the slowness of her climb, Lady Eleanor now had me more trapped than if I’d stayed put in my tower prison.

I don’t know why I did it, or what I’d hoped to gain, but when I saw Lady Eleanor emerge on the tower roof, I climbed onto the wall. I don’t do heights at the best of times and with Lady Eleanor behind me, I didn’t really feel my life was going to be prolonged. She had murderous intent, and for all intents and purposes, I had just played into her hands.

I closed my eyes, mainly to block out the dizzying height, and, helped by Lady Eleanor, I slowly toppled forward.

***

It was only a few minutes to closing time now, and I knew I couldn’t stay here much longer. I had no idea what I was going to do and had even contemplated hiding in the dungeon at the bottom of the ruined tower until the workers had locked up for the night. I kept thinking she must have been playing a game with me, hiding when she saw me, and then changing her hiding place when my back was turned. But, apart from the blocked-off areas, and a padlocked, grated well, there were not really any good places she could have done that.

I had retraced my steps to the bench where I’d spent most of my time and then took off in what I thought was the most logical place she could have gone to explore the ruins. I remembered her question, only vaguely, seeing as my attention was elsewhere, about what I thought the garden might have been used for back in the day, and then, she took off towards the house.

I followed that thought and just stood in the center of what must have once been a magnificent garden for the ladies to take a walk in, slowly turning around, looking at the ruined walls around me.

And then I swear I heard her call my name.

It seemed like it was coming from above me. I looked up at the ruined tower but could see no one there. There wasn’t really any way of getting up there – not safely anyway, and yet, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was there. I slowly walked towards the tower, straining to see, straining to hear. Nothing. I tried to climb the wall, but, even though there were quite a few good hand and footholds, it just wasn’t enough, and the moss and lichen on the walls made it slippery.

I was about to give up and just report her as missing.

I looked up again, and just for a moment, I swear I saw the whole tower, smooth stone walls, heavy wooden doors, embrasures strategically placed for the archers, and a crenelated wall at the very top. And on top of that wall, I saw her.

“Maggie!” I screamed her name and the stragglers turned to look.

“What the …”

“Who’s …”

“How did she get …”

Pandemonium!

I watched, helpless, as the figure began to free-fall, gracefully diving from the top of Lady Margaret’s Tower.

“Oh my God!” I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there, my arms outstretched, ready to catch her, staring as she fell. What was I thinking? Someone falling from that height would crush the person they fell on!

The body fell into my arms and I felt … nothing.

“It’s Lady Margaret!” One of the guides rushed over to me. “She falls from this tower just about every evening at this time, reliving her death at the hand of her sister.”

“But …?” I stared at the guide and then at my empty arms, dumfounded. “Maggie …”

I heard a moan from just inside the tower ruin.

“It’s just the ghost.”

I wasn’t convinced.

“Maggie?” I entered the darkened doorway, not sure what I’d find there.

“Brad?”

It was barely a whisper.

“What … How … Are you okay?”

“I … fell.”

“Are you hurt? Can you stand?” I reached down to help her up. She was clearly stunned but didn’t appear to be badly damaged. Still I thought it best to hold her up and so put my arm around her waist. I was surprised when she leaned into me but assumed she found she was hurt more than she thought.

The guide wanted to check her out for any serious injuries and call an ambulance. I was happy to do this, but Maggie said she just wanted me to take her home. I couldn’t argue, and so, leaving her in the care of the guide, I brought the car up to the entrance. We both helped her into the car; I popped the canopy up as the evening had turned a little chilly and carefully drove her back.

***

I don’t remember much about how I finally got home. I do remember falling … and landing, although not as hard as I would have expected from the top of the tower. I also remember, although I know this bit isn’t true, that Brad caught me when I fell. I know this isn’t true because I then had a memory of Brad calling my name, and finding me at the base of the tower. I remember he helped me up and I had to lean on him for support. And it’s funny how memories go because I actually remember that I felt safe in his arms.

I definitely don’t remember the ride home, nor do I remember how I got up the stairs and into my flat. I do remember Sally’s horrified face as she saw the state I was in when Brad returned me. I have a vague recollection of her yelling at him, and me, weakly, telling her to shut up, that this man had saved me and of Sally then standing with her mouth open in awe.

I have no recollection of climbing the stairs, of showering (although I woke up clean, so must have done), or of falling into bed.

I do remember waking up in a panic, my heart racing, and my head spinning, and a cool hand being placed on my forehead, whispered words of reassurance, me falling back to sleep.

I also remember waking to bright sunshine and realizing I had slept all day and it was the afternoon sun waking me. And I remember seeing Brad, still in the same clothes he had been wearing the day before, gently snoring on one of our kitchen chairs that had miraculously appeared in my room.

“Brad?” He heard my whisper and jerked awake.

“Maggie, I’m so sorry …”

“Shh …” I reached for his hand which he put in mine. “Thank you. I thought she was going to kill me.”

He gave me an odd look then, but I didn’t care. I’d tell him all about it one day, but for now, it was enough to know he had saved me. I closed my eyes and pretended to go back to sleep. I don’t know for sure, of course, but I have a feeling Brad’s the one.

***

I was surprised she didn’t tell me to get out when she woke up and found me in her room. She thanked me for saving her life! I will spend the rest of my days making it up to her for neglecting her in the first place. I have a feeling I’ll have all the time I need.

***

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This story is also available, along with a few others, in my short story collection, 'Time is of the Essence', available on Amazon by copying and pasting the link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Time-Essence-Phoebe-Wilby/dp/0473411660

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