Huntress

by Amanda Radley

  “She’s not what she seems.” She stood up.

  He looked at her for a moment before slowly nodding. He placed the card on the shelf behind the bar.

  Claudia walked along the low wall which separated the village green and the field. The old structure was built of rocks and slate, and it ran the length of the entire village. She paused and looked towards the coffee shop. She turned back and kept walking, all the while looking closely at the top of the wall.

  After a short distance, she came upon a clump of mud which had snagged on one of the wall’s sharper edges. She smiled to herself as she climbed over. Bingo. In the mud at the base of the wall were fresh footprints. Now to determine which way the footprints led.

  “Can I help you?”

  Claudia looked up. The man wore green wellington boots and a Barbour style jacket. His flat cap and walking stick made him appear the epitome of a farmer.

  “Good morning,” Claudia greeted. She started to walk towards him. “I’m looking for someone, they may have passed through here last night.”

  “The ones with the tent?” he asked.

  “You saw them?”

  He paused and leant on his walking stick. “No, just that someone had pitched a tent on my land. Honestly, these city folk seem to think they have the right to do whatever they like. They see a field and they think it’s theirs. Like the countryside is free for anyone to use, however they like. Well, let me tell you, it isn’t. It’s my land.”

  “Yes, it is,” Claudia agreed. “You say you saw where the tent was? Was there anything left there?”

  He looked Claudia up and down for a moment. “No. Just some holes where the tent poles were and some damage to the grass.”

  “Do you have any idea where they went?”

  “They were long gone when I got there.”

  Claudia blew out a breath and looked around the fields. “Are there any walking paths that cut through your land? Any obvious place they might have gone?”

  He removed his cap and scratched at his head. “Why are you looking for them? They trouble?”

  Claudia plucked a business card out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “If they come back, call me. I’ll arrange compensation for any damage.”

  He looked at the business card, turning it over to look at the back. “Claudia McAllister.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Doesn’t say a company name,” he commented.

  “That’s right. Just call me if they show up.” Claudia turned and walked back towards the village square.

  “City folk.” She heard him mumble as she walked away. She rolled her eyes. Country bumpkins, all the same.

  14

  Beryl

  “We’re going to have to get a bus,” Kerry said. “No one around here is going to give us a lift. There’s no one around here to give us a lift.”

  Amy looked around the small village and the two parked cars. The place was truly deserted. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Shit. We were doing so well.”

  Kerry stopped walking and turned to looked at her. Spinning around had caused her fringe to fall in front of her eyes, so she blew it away.

  “Doing well? Since Pete dropped us off, we have been in six different cars but only managed to travel around thirty miles. Half of that time we were going back in the direction we had come. And I don’t even want to talk about that last guy.”

  The last guy had been particularly bad. So bad that they had silently agreed to tell him that they had arrived at their destination rather than travel another mile with him. They may have ended up in the tiny village of Choppington, but at least they were away from him.

  “Well, I have a hundred percent success rate in hitchhiking,” Amy said happily.

  “Yeah, you’re infinitely murderable.” Kerry smirked.

  Amy chuckled. “No one’s murdered us yet.”

  “No one’s driven us for more than twenty minutes either.”

  “Maybe you should wash?” Amy suggested. She jokingly held her nose.

  “I think that stink you’re smelling is a lot closer to home.” Kerry winked.

  “Well, if we both stink, then maybe the police won’t want to catch us?” Amy hoped.

  “Yeah, maybe they’ll stop looking when they see the state of your hair,” Kerry shot back with a grin.

  “Or, maybe,” Amy continued, “the green vapour trail you are leaving behind you will be the reason they find us. Just follow the green smoke.”

  Kerry narrowed her eyes and glared at her playfully. She turned around and crossed the road to head towards the bus shelter.

  Amy smiled. It was good to be bantering again. The pressure of being chased was more exhausting than she thought possible. It had only been around twenty-four hours since they went on the run, and already they were bickering with each other and quick to lose their tempers. It had been good to get to Choppington. They’d even had tea in a quaint afternoon tea shop. It had improved their mood considerably.

  She looked over her shoulder so much that she could feel muscle knots developing already. The need to be on the move was so strong that it felt like an obsession. She was sure that sitting still for more than half an hour would result in several black SUVs surrounding her. It was like the mysterious they were always just a few steps behind.

  She crossed the road and removed her heavy rucksack. Dropping it in the bus shelter, she sat on the cold metal bench while Kerry checked the bus times and locations. She reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out some spare change. She counted the coins to see if she would have enough money to buy a chocolate bar from the shop across the street.

  That was when she heard a woman scream. Her head snapped up, and she saw an elderly lady running after a dog, a tiny, little piece of fluff. The dog’s lead dragged on the ground behind it as it ran away from its owner. Amy saw the reason the woman was screaming: a lorry was driving down the road and straight towards the dog. From the angle, the driver would have no hope of seeing the dog.

  Amy didn’t even think. She distantly registered the sound of metal coins clanking to the ground as she sprinted across the road, bending down to scoop up the small dog and passing just meters in front of the cab of the lorry.

  She held the dog to her chest as tightly as she dared. The sounds of the lorry honking and of Kerry’s screams were all she heard. When the lorry passed her, she turned around and grinned.

  “I’m okay!” she shouted to Kerry, who was white as a sheet.

  “Monty! Monty, are you okay?” The elderly woman was racing across the road. “Is he okay?”

  Amy looked at the dog in her arms. The smallest cocker spaniel she’d ever seen. “Yeah, I think he’s okay.”

  She placed Monty into the woman’s waiting arms, gathering up the dangling lead and handing it to her to hold onto.

  “Oh, my dear, thank you, thank you so much. He’s all I have. He is a silly boy, though. Aren’t you? So silly. This lovely girl could have died, Monty.”

  “I’m fine, really,” Amy promised. “I’m just happy that he’s okay.”

  Kerry was next to her now. “Are you sure you’re okay, Amy? That was a close one.”

  “Amy, I’m Beryl.” The woman held one hand out awkwardly under Monty.

  Amy shook her hand. “Lovely to meet you, this is Kerry.”

  Kerry offered a small wave and stroked Monty’s head.

  “How can I ever thank you?” Beryl asked. “It’s nearly dinner time. Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you dinner.”

  “Dinner would be lovely,” Amy said. “We haven’t had a proper meal in a while.”

  “I saw your rucksacks, are you travelling?” Beryl asked.

  “No, we’re kind of on the run,” Amy explained.

  Kerry rolled her eyes and sauntered back to the bus shelter to collect their bags. She was fed up with Amy telling people that they were on the run, but as far as Amy was concerned, that was the quickest way to find out if you could trust a p
erson. If the person looked shocked, then she would know she couldn’t trust them. Most of the time, the person laughed and couldn’t wait to be a part of their getaway story. Although, Amy did suspect that most people thought she was joking. One of the people who gave them a lift even asked if they could wheel spin away from where they had picked them up to add a little more drama.

  “On the run? That sounds exciting. You must tell me all about that over dinner,” Beryl said.

  “I’d love to.”

  As it turned out, the farmhouse where Beryl lived was quaint, if a little rundown. Beryl led them to the back door after explaining that the front door was jammed. Kerry offered to help Beryl prepare the food for the meal.

  “Do you have any tools? I could look at the front door for you, if you like,” Amy offered. She’d never been particularly good at fixing things, but she wanted to say thank you somehow.

  “There’s a toolbox in that cupboard there.” Beryl pointed to a pantry.

  Amy opened the door and found the toolbox. She walked through the house and located the front door. She tried to open it but could see what Beryl meant, it was stuck fast. She tried various tools and eventually managed to pry the door open. Once the door was open she saw a nail had come loose in the frame. It had latched onto a piece of splintered wood from the door and was effectively holding it closed.

  To Amy’s surprise, she fixed the door within twenty minutes. She’d never been the kind of person to be handy. But then, she supposed she’d never needed to be. She put the tools back into the toolbox and turned around to go back to the kitchen. As she did she noticed a spindle on the staircase was hanging off. She grinned and put the toolbox back down. Rolling up her sleeves, she got to work.

  It was an hour later when Kerry came to tell her that dinner was ready. Somehow time had flown by as she’d walked around the downstairs of the house, fixing things as she went.

  “Did you manage to fix the door?” Kerry asked as they walked into the dining room.

  “Yeah, and the spindle, a window frame, the handle on the cupboard under the stairs, and a bit of carpet that was sticking up.” Amy was very proud of her achievements. She may not have been able to help with dinner, but she felt like she’d earned a home-cooked meal now.

  Of course, she wasn’t about to mention the fact that she’d broken the handle on the cupboard under the stairs herself.

  “Wow, remind me, you’re the person who put gum in a crack in the wall, yeah?” Kerry recalled.

  “Yeah, I’ve progressed in my DIY skills since then.” Amy chuckled.

  She washed her hands while Beryl and Kerry carried plates and dishes into the dining room. It seemed they were having a traditional roast dinner with all the trimmings.

  “It’s so nice to have company,” Beryl said. “It’s been years since my Barry died. There’s no point in cooking for one. I often just have a sandwich for dinner.”

  They all sat down at the table and started plating up.

  “You should still cook yourself a nice meal,” Amy insisted. “You need to look after yourself.”

  “Amy’s right,” Kerry added. “Dinner should be a pleasure, not a chore.”

  Beryl seemed to think about it for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” she finally admitted.

  The conversation over dinner was wide and varied. Of course, they spoke about Kerry and Amy’s adventures, but also about Beryl’s husband. Everything was comfortable and homely, and before long Beryl was inviting them to stay the night. Despite the itch to keep moving, Amy couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in a tent again. They agreed and thanked Beryl for her kindness and hospitality. In turn, she thanked them for their company.

  Amy felt sad. Beryl was a lovely lady, but she was cooped up in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. She hardly ever saw anyone, and she was obviously lonely. Her husband’s death had been the end of her social life. Amy wanted to help, wanted to know that when they left, Beryl would be okay. Fixing some doors and gluing down some carpet was one thing. But cosmetic DIY wasn’t going to mean much in the long-term.

  After dinner, they moved into the living room to have tea and biscuits. Beryl insisted that Kerry read a book of short stories that she thought she would be interested in. Kerry, always happy with a book, set herself up in front of the fire with the book and a woven tartan blanket. The fire gently crackled and filled the room with a beautiful orange glow. Amy wiggled her toes, happy to finally be able to take her hiking boots off and relax. They may not have been on the run for long, but it was hard work. Harder than she had anticipated.

  “Amy, would you help me with my laptop? People keep asking me for my email address, and I don’t have one,” Beryl asked after she brought in a new tray of tea. “I’m at a loss on how to go about getting one.”

  Amy knew nothing about computers but was happy to give it a go. “Sure, I can try.”

  Beryl put the tray down on the coffee table and wandered off in search of her laptop.

  Amy let out a contented sigh. It had only been a few hours, but she already felt like meeting Beryl was fate. Somehow, they had all come together at just the right moment, when they all needed each other the most. She listened to the sound of Monty snoring and giggled. The dog may have been the smallest cocker spaniel she’d ever met, but he made up for it with volume when he slept. And, she reminded herself, Monty was the reason that they had a comfortable place to sleep for the night.

  “So, it came with these,” Beryl said as she returned. She placed a bulky laptop, a plastic wallet filled with CDs, and several thick paper manuals on a writing desk in the corner of the room.

  Amy stood and walked over to desk. She looked through the paperwork and the CDs. “I don’t think you need any of these. The software you need should already be on there.” She sat on the chair that Beryl offered and switched the laptop on.

  “You’ll need this.” Beryl handed her a mouse with a wire. Before Amy could say anything she had gone to fetch a chair for herself from the dining room.

  “I never really used it. It was more Barry’s than it was mine. But everyone seems to have email now, so why not me?” Beryl said when she returned.

  “That’s the spirit.” Amy turned the laptop to face Beryl. “Do you know the password?”

  “Oh, probably the same as everything, Barry forty-one.”

  Amy mock-gasped. “Don’t say it out loud. They’re listening.”

  Beryl chuckled. “You’re paranoid. You think every camera is switched on and watching you and drones are following you everywhere.”

  “You heard that buzzing as well,” Amy defended.

  “It was a lawnmower in the distance,” Kerry interjected.

  “Hey, back to your reading, bookworm. No one is talking to you,” Amy joked.

  “B-A-R-R-Y-4-1,” Beryl spelt out as she pressed each key down firmly.

  Amy chuckled and took the laptop back from Beryl when she was finished. Beryl and Kerry talked about the book Kerry was reading while Amy quickly set up a free email account.

  It was an hour later when Beryl, surrounded by plenty of handwritten notes, was confident in what she was doing.

  “It’s amazing what technology can do these days,” Beryl commented.

  “Yeah, terrifying, too,” Amy said, thinking about the plethora of ways she was currently being traced.

  Beryl seemed to sense Amy’s unease and patted her forearm. “Don’t you worry, a couple of clever girls like you two will have no problem getting to... where was it again?”

  “Glasgow,” Amy stuck to her previous lie.

  “To Glasgow,” Beryl said. She chewed on her lip. “You’ll need to get a train to Newcastle and then go on to Glasgow from there.”

  Amy looked fondly at Beryl and waited a few moments.

  “Oh, but you girls are scared of the train,” Beryl recalled.

  “Well, the cameras,” Amy corrected gently.

  Beryl closed the lid of the laptop and stood up. “I’ve got just the
thing. Come with me.”

  Amy looked over to Kerry who offered a confused shrug before returning her attention to her book. She followed Beryl through the maze of unused rooms, all filled with boxes. She peered into one particularly cluttered room and wondered what on earth Beryl was keeping and for what purpose. It didn’t feel right to leave her on her own the next day, but she knew she had to.

  “Here.” Beryl placed a stick with a hook on the end in Amy’s hand. “Get the loft ladder down for me.” She gestured to the ceiling hatch.

  Amy aimed the hook for the hatch and carefully lowered it. She used the hook to get the ladder down. She had barely finished fixing it into position and ensuring the safety catches were on when Beryl was on her way up the stairs.

  “Okay, speedy, be careful,” Amy warned her.

  “Oh, I’m fine, fine,” Beryl mumbled. She stood halfway up the ladder and reached into some boxes near the hatch. “Now, I know they are here somewhere.”

  “What are you looking for?” Amy called up. She held the ladder still as Beryl threw stuff around in the cramped loft space.

  “Got them!” Beryl declared. A moment later she retreated down with a plastic carrier bag in her hand. “This is the answer to all your problems. You’re worried about high-tech, so you need to go low-tech.”

  Once she was firmly on the ground she thrust the bag into Amy’s hand. Amy opened the bag and felt a smile tug at her lips. “Seriously?”

  Beryl just grinned at her. Amy reached into the bag and pulled out a professional quality wig in an auburn bob style. Amy handed Beryl back the bag and put the wig on her head. She walked over to a floor-length mirror and started to adjust her hair, feeding it into the tight space.

  “This is amazing,” Amy commented. “I look completely different.” She smoothed the wig down and turned to face Beryl.

  The elder woman laughed and nodded her head. “Oh yes, you look wonderful. Nothing like you, mind, but wonderful. Kerry! Come and see this.”