scuttling animals and the rustling bushes.
‘We have to be careful.’ She gestured with her hand over to the right. ‘There’s a ravine over there. Don’t want anyone falling down it. Hey, what do you call a nun lost in the woods? A Roamin’ Catholic. Geddit?’
I groaned.
‘Not one of my best! Anyhoo, we’re almost there.’
We followed our Hansel and Gretel trail for a few more minutes until we rounded a corner and there it was. A small whitewashed cottage. Smoke curling from the chimney. Storybook perfect. Gingerbread House enticing.
‘This was a weaver’s cottage,’ Saffron said as she pushed open the latched door. ‘It’s over a hundred years old.’
She kicked off her boots onto the mat in the porch. Tilly and I wobbled as we pulled off our footwear in the confined space. Elbows jabbing into walls. Into each other.
In the lounge, a fire crackled and hissed. The smell of wood smoke was comforting. Dark beams striped the low ceiling. A battered black leather sofa with a cross of duct tape over one cushion was angled by the cracked window. To its side, a coffee table stained with white rings. Two faded, mustard armchairs flanked the fireplace.
‘Wait here, Tilly,’ Saffron said. ‘I’ll take your mum through and then I’ll show you around the farm.’
Tilly’s gaze met mine, a don’t-leave-me expression on her face, but it was better that I talked to Alex in private. I didn’t want her to know how bad things really were.
‘You’ll have a lovely time, Tilly.’ I dragged myself away from her pleading eyes.
‘This was a dining room but it’s more of an office now,’ Saffron said as she pushed open the door to the adjoining room, and there he was.
Alex.
Dark hair curling over the neck of his cream fisherman’s jumper. A beard framing lips that spoke my name as if he’d said it a million times before.
‘Laura.’ His voice a soothing balm on a sting. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He was only around thirty but he carried the sense of confidence you’d expect from somebody older. He took my hand, his skin rough. His nut-brown eyes, flecked with gold, held mine. I was barely aware of Saffron saying goodbye. Her footsteps receding. The slamming of the front door. Hers and Tilly’s voices growing fainter.
‘Hello.’ It seemed rude to pull my hand away, and if I’m honest, I didn’t want to. Instead, I squeezed his fingers, not wanting to feel them slip away from mine. He released me first. Embarrassed, I did what I’d always done in uncomfortable situations; I babbled, cramming the tiny gaps of silence with words, but my voice trailed away when I noticed the shotgun propped against the desk.
In the far depths of my mind a memory slithered to the surface.
There’s nowhere to run to.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. Panic rising as I remembered the fences, the wire, the locked gate.
‘I… I’m not sure I should be here.’ I hated weapons of any description. I knew how it felt to be on the wrong end of one. ‘I’m going to go.’
‘No you’re not,’ Alex said softly as he reached for the gun.
TILLY
It had been a shit week at school.
On Monday I’d gone into the sixth form common room. Rhianon was there, alone.
‘Hi.’ I grabbed a plastic cup and poured water from the cooler.
‘Hey.’ Her voice was flat. I noticed how pale she was.
‘So, the weekend? What was that about?’ I tried to act casual as I leant against the wall, uncertain whether I should sit next to her.
‘Like, I literally have zero clue. Mum and Dad basically fight all the time at the moment.’
‘Your mum told mine we’re not family anymore.’ I shrugged feigning nonchalance.
Before she could answer, Katie burst into the room. ‘You’ll never guess what Kieron said?!’ She noticed me and sat next to Rhianon, cupping her hand against Rhianon’s ear and whispering in the way five-year-olds did.
‘See you later then,’ I said snarkily.
‘Yeah. Whatever.’ She didn’t even look at me as I left.
I hadn’t had the chance to speak to her again, spending my free periods in the library. I had only missed six weeks but there was mountains of coursework to catch up on.
And then it was Saturday. I should have been writing up my notes on Othello but I was so bored. Mum asked if I wanted to go with her and visit a friend who lived on a farm. I said yes. I’d pictured somewhere pretty with animals I could feed, but we stopped at these massive gates with threatening signs and everything. Honestly, it was as creepy as hell. The man who let us through started talking about how if anyone could help us Alex could, a bit like we were off to see the wizard. I almost expected there to be a road paved with yellow bricks.
We got out of the car. Mum hugged this woman who was stunning. It’s so hard to pull off white in the winter but she managed it, with skinny jeans disappearing into black Uggs. She turned to me. I immediately felt six sizes larger than I was, and I wanted to put a paper bag over my head.
‘Saffron, this is my daughter, Tilly,’ Mum said and I only just managed to push out a shrill ‘hi’. I could feel Mum glaring at me and was about to say something really lame about the weather to appease her, but then Saffron commented on my boots. I was so happy I couldn’t say anything at all.
It began to rain as we walked across a field. I was glad the wind snatched away the chance of conversation. In the woods it was sheltered. Peaceful. Through the trees there was a cottage. Familiarity soothed my anxious stomach. It looked so similar to the one pictured in the fairy-tale book Mum used to read to me when I was small. I tried to remember the name of the story but I couldn’t.
It was bubble bath warm inside the cottage. I sniffed as my nose began to run. Mum pushed a tissue into my hand.
‘Wait here, Tilly,’ Saffron said. ‘I’ll take your mum through and then I’ll show you around the farm.’
‘You’ll have a lovely time,’ Mum said, in her fake happy voice, as Saffron ushered her through to a different room.
I perched on one of the chairs that was threadbare and faded. The sideboard was chipped on its corner. A dark stain on the carpet near the fireplace. The walls were probably white once, but now had an odd yellow tinge. Somehow all its faults made it look homely, or perfectly imperfect, as someone would say on Instagram.
Saffron returned a minute later.
‘Shall we head off, Tilly?’
The buzzing in my mind increased along with my anxiety. Before I could tell
