A Perfect Proposal (45 page)

The little ford did look rather full and Sophie stopped to
consider its depth. Had there been anywhere to turn round she might well have done that and gone back to Moira’s. But there wasn’t and so the best thing seemed to be to go slowly on.

The car stopped in the middle and she realised she’d drowned it. Fear, belated but strong, overtook her. She’d have to get out and walk. She opened the door, with some difficulty, and water rushed into the car. She just managed to grab her handbag before it was soaked too, and her mobile phone fell out.

Just for a second she watched it disappear and then realised she had no time to waste. She must get out of the car and out of the flood before it got any worse – while she still could.

Fortunately she could cling on to the car for support. She went onwards, knowing she couldn’t go back. The house was not far ahead. She could break in there and find shelter.

When she had to let go of the car she was almost washed off her feet but she managed to grab hold of a branch and haul herself out of the ford and on to the road. She stood there, breathless and shaking slightly. It was from relief, she realised. She was out of the stream. She hadn’t drowned. The journey to the house, although it took twenty minutes, seemed like nothing.

She went to the back door straight away, hoping no one had locked it. To her relief, they hadn’t and she let herself in.

Once out of the rain she burrowed in her bag for her torch, praying it hadn’t been got at by the water. By a miracle, it hadn’t. When she switched it on, the first thing she saw was a pile of wood shavings on the floor. She was in a pantry, she discovered, where the builders had swept up some rubbish to make the main house look tidy. Thank goodness they hadn’t been tidy enough to sweep it into a plastic bag and actually throw it away. If she could find some way of lighting
it, she could get a fire going if the emergency services took too long to get to her.

Her brain knew that she was perfectly safe, but the shock of being nearly swept away by the stream, and being on her own in an empty house, in the dark, was beginning to make her panic slightly. She didn’t like the dark.

What she needed was something practical to do.

Her torch wouldn’t last long so she turned it off and tried to get accustomed to the semi-dark as she gathered shavings, discarded newspaper, cigarette packets and other flammable items and took them into the dining room. It had a fireplace that she really hoped would work, and was smaller than the sitting room, so would warm up quicker.

She had to use the torch more than she wanted to and the thought of being alone in the empty house in the dark and cold pressed on her. She was frozen even though she was moving around. She couldn’t keep moving all night to stave off the cold.

A combination of desperation and hope sent her to the back regions beyond the kitchen and pantry. It was an old house, there must be something she could get a light from, a stub of candle or a lamp with some oil still in it, maybe some meths she could get to start the fire.

The first two rooms she tried were empty and she became more frantic. Surely to goodness in this whole huge house there must be something she could use to help her.

In the last little room there was a shelf. It was obviously where the household had kept unconsidered trifles, jam jars full of rusty nails, old balls of gardening string, raffia for tying up plants and anonymous cardboard boxes. Sophie knew there would be spiders. There was no way she could go near that shelf without disturbing some monsters.

It was the thought of those spiders that sapped her spirit. She’d escaped a flood; she’d walked through the pouring
rain; she was so wet even her knickers were soaking and she was so cold she was shivering convulsively. There on the shelf there could well be matches, a candle, oil, anything, and those humble household items might save her from freezing. Yet the thought of the eight-legged creatures who would run over her hand or flee from her fingers was stopping her from seeking her salvation.

‘OK,’ she said aloud, and immediately wished she hadn’t; her voice sounded scary in the dark. ‘In a minute, I’ll just sweep everything off the shelf and see what lands.’

Then she realised she might break something that might be really useful and make warmth and light an even more impossible dream. There was nothing else for it, she’d have to face the spiders. She’d have to reach up and feel along, discerning by touch what might be of use and what wouldn’t. She’d do it. In a minute.

She crouched down with her back against the wall, her soaking clothes squelching slightly as she did so, and closed her eyes. She was shivering violently. It will all be all right in the end, she told herself, very soon this will become a funny story to tell my friends. She imagined describing the awful spideriness of this cell-like little room, and everyone laughing as she described how utterly horrible it was. It would be all right, she knew – was certain. But when?

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, crouched on the floor, willing herself to either go back into the main house or look for some matches – however slim her chances of finding some were – when she heard a noise. She screamed.

Her brain knew it was not a mugger, a burglar, or even a ghost. She knew it was the police, the fire brigade, or someone sent to find her. But she couldn’t stop adrenalin surging through her in violent waves making her body panic. Her scream echoing in the dark added to her terror.

There was a loud, confused mixture of swearing and exclamation and someone fell over her foot, landing on the floor. The swearing increased and Sophie detected an American accent.

‘Luke?’

‘For fuck’s sake! Sophie! What the hell are you doing in here? I thought you were drowned!’

‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

There was a roar, more swearing and then Sophie felt Luke’s hands on her shoulders. They were gripping so tight it hurt. ‘I thought you were dead, and you make jokes! What is wrong with you?’

‘Sorry! I was scared out of my wits! What are you doing here? And why did you think I was dead!’

‘Because you went out in a flood and you didn’t answer your phone. People drown in flash floods, you know!’

‘But I didn’t drown, I’m fine!’ Although she spoke bracingly she did feel a bit ashamed.

‘You don’t deserve to be fine.’

Under the distinct impression that she wouldn’t stay fine long unless she was very careful, Sophie cleared her throat.
‘But why did you look for me here? Not in the main house?’

‘I searched the main house and you weren’t there!’ Luke was still roaring. ‘What the hell are you doing in this hellhole?’

‘I thought there might be something useful in here. I was looking for matches – something I could make a light with.’ Sophie was aware she was gabbling. It would have helped if she could stop shaking.

The grip on her shoulders relaxed a little. ‘I did wonder if that was what you were doing. If you weren’t here, it would have meant you’d been swept away.’

‘But I wasn’t!’

‘You didn’t answer your phone!’

‘Oh. That
was
swept away. It fell out of the car door when I opened the door.’

‘It could have been you! Do you realise how much danger you were in? Moira said, just after you left, that if there’s a lot of rain the streams get clogged up and then if the blockage gives way the water rushes down and floods happen in minutes!’

‘Do they?’ She didn’t shout back because she felt incredibly stupid and ashamed.

‘And you risked your life for a fucking camera!’

Sophie’s sense of shame immediately diminished; she didn’t respond positively to shouting and he was still holding on to her shoulders, giving her a little shake with every sentence. ‘I didn’t know about the flooding. Moira didn’t tell me.’

‘She did tell you!’ He was shouting again. ‘You just didn’t listen! You’re so headstrong!’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know—’

‘You could have been drowned. I could have been drowned.’

‘You didn’t have to come! You could have just called for the fire brigade or the police or whatever!’

There was a pause. He let go of her shoulders. ‘It’s a wild night. They’ll have had hundreds of calls. They might not have gotten to you before morning.’

As he became calmer she found her own anger. ‘I’d have been fine! There was no need for you to risk your life to get me! I didn’t ask you to!’

‘Moira’s going to see if she can round up someone with a vehicle – a tractor or something – to help.’

‘I don’t think I want to be responsible for anyone else getting soaked or risking their lives.’

‘Oh, don’t be bloody ridiculous!’

‘I’m not being ridiculous! You could ring Moira and cancel the rescue vehicle!’

‘No I can’t!’

‘Why?’

He sighed in exasperation. ‘Because I left my cell in the car, on charge.’

‘Where is your car?’

‘On some higher ground. I walked quite a way.’

‘Oh.’

‘I came across your car and used it to help me cross the ford – which is now a river.’

Sophie slumped shivering back into her dark corner. She felt utterly miserable. She was soaking wet, freezing cold and Luke despised her. She despised herself. They could both of them have lost their lives.

‘So,’ he said after a few moments, ‘did you find anything useful?’ He sounded calm, but not friendly.

‘Not yet. It’s hard to find anything in the pitch dark.’ She didn’t add that her efforts had been hampered by her inability to engage with spiders.

‘Let’s go back to the main house,’ said Luke. He leant down and caught her elbow and then her wrist, pulling her up. ‘You’re freezing!’

She couldn’t speak, her teeth were chattering too much. She knew it was shock as much as cold.

‘Come on.’ He hooked his arm round her shoulders and held on, half pushing her along back into the main part of the house. Once there she calmed down a bit and shook herself free from his arm. She pushed back wet strings of hair and felt she’d never be warm again. Although it was dark outside some light came through the windows. She could see Luke rummaging in a bag.

He pulled something out. ‘Here’s the flashlight.’ The torch being on somehow made the room seem darker. ‘Hold it.’

Luke handed the torch to her and she aimed it at the bag while Luke sorted through it. ‘Here.’ He pulled out a bag and handed it to Sophie. ‘It’s a sweater. The rest is food, a couple of candles and some matches.’

‘That’s amazing.’ She took the jumper out of its wrapping and pulled it on over her wet clothes. ‘There wouldn’t be a towel in there, would there?’

‘No!’

He still sounded incredibly cross; although it could just be that he was so cold. ‘Never mind,’ said Sophie, trying to sound positive, ‘we can make a fire and have a picnic. Warm ourselves up.’

‘How will we make a fire?’

‘There are wood shavings and all sorts in the old pantry. I expect we could find logs in one of the outhouses. You brought the matches. I don’t suppose Moira put any fire lighters in her emergency pack, did she?’

‘No. She was in a hurry. We thought you might drown or be so wet and cold you’d die of hypothermia. We hoped you’d get to the house but we couldn’t be sure you would.’

Sophie swallowed, taking in how much danger she’d been in. ‘I’m sorry.’

She was freezing and she also wanted to do something to make Luke stop despising her so much. She had to. ‘I’ll get going on the fire. Do something to keep us warm.’

‘I don’t think much of your chances. But you’ll need these.’ He tossed the box of matches at her and they landed on the floor.

‘Thanks.’ She spoke warily. ‘Perhaps you could look for some logs?’

Taking the torch, he stormed out of the room. She found her little key-ring torch and made her way to the pantry into which the builders had swept all the rubbish. Why was Luke still so furious? She could understand relief at finding her alive could translate into anger; that was normal. But to go on being angry was unreasonable. She was the injured party here – if anyone, it should be her being angry with him!

Fortunately there was a bucket there and quite a lot of timber offcuts as well as shavings. She soon filled the bucket with good flammable stuff. Maybe if she got a fire going, and he felt warmer, his mood would improve.