Rescuelander

by Samantha Liddell

  Chapter Seven

  If we could have shared some of the heat I imagined was making Swans Cottage toasty warm, in the back of the panel van, it would have been greatly appreciated. Instead Sophie and I huddled up together sharing body heat under our winter jackets. I’m not sure how either of us managed to fall asleep that night, lying on the hard floor of the panel van. It was either through extreme tiredness or the need to escape the reality we were now in.

  We had no idea where Milla and James were sleeping. My only thought was that they must be in the front of the van.

  I had now drifted off into a deep slumber, ready to sleep this very cold, very uncomfortable night away, with the hope of waking up to find Scott beside me. Stranger things had happened, I thought.

  It had been a restless night. I was not too sure of what level of quality I had achieved in my sleep. Before I had even opened my eyes the next morning, I felt the ache of my shoulder blades, the sting behind my eyes, a throbbing inside my head. A night sleeping in the back of that van on the hard, uneven metal floor with no mattress or pillows for comfort proved to be an extremely long, uncomfortable night indeed. I was starting to miss the comforts and warmth of Swans Cottage.

  I rolled over to find Sophie still fast asleep beside me. How, I will never know, but what I did know was that I couldn’t take it inside this van any longer. I remembered the sliding door being locked last night, right before our very own eyes, so I’m not sure what made me even attempt to open it—but to my surprise, it slid right on open.

  I cautiously stepped out of the van, still surprised at the lack of effort it took to escape. I was about to turn around and wake Sophie up so we could make a run to freedom before James and Milla woke up, but instead, something else took my attention and focus away, in the form of a perfectly immaculate castle. I rubbed my eyes a few times to ensure that what I was seeing in front of me was indeed there. After the fifth round of rubbing and still the same view greeted me when my hands returned to my side, I was convinced it was really there.

  I had to get a better look. Curiosity got the better of me, as a lot of things did in my life, which is why I ended up in so many strange situations—and here I went again, about to venture into another situation, but this time, there was no Scott to protect me from what may arise.

  My heart was taking the lead, my mind telling me to, stay put, Letticia, do not go exploring, yet my heart was telling me, let’s go, let’s go on another adventure and see what is behind those beautifully constructed yellow sandstone walls.

  As I walked up the stone path, I passed blossoming flowers of all different colours, hardly a weed in sight, and a lush-looking vegetable patch with every vegetable in season you could imagine. The gardener at Torwood Castle was obviously very passionate and talented in what they did. I walked through a cobbled courtyard that lead me to the front door. The door was a big black iron thing with a curved gold handle attached to it. I knocked a few times, with no luck in getting an answer. I decided to push open the door myself, which opened after giving it a mighty big push with the whole side of my body. Doors really were on my side today.

  As I stepped inside, I was greeted with a magnificent, overwhelming staircase, which the base of stood only a few metres away from the entrance. This staircase only rose to the first floor, the second and third floors accessible by their own opulent staircases. I decided to not venture up the staircase just yet, however, and instead I walked around the back of it and headed down to what looked to be the basement.

  As I entered the basement, I noticed it was divided into a series of vaulted chambers with a corridor along the side leading to the courtyard. The kitchen was located in the largest of the chambers, at the eastern end of the building. I followed my nose, which had picked up on a very delectable smell. It led me to the castle’s kitchen, and the first thing I spotted when I entered was a huge open oven with a roaring fire inside, baking what looked to be fresh bread. Big pots on top were filled to the brim with bubbling goodness that looked to be some sort of stew—beef-and-vegetable if I had to guess. My mouth was watering as my stomach rumbled; I had not eaten a hot substantial meal for over twenty-four hours. I needed to fill my belly.

  As I looked around the room further, I realised I was in the fully operational kitchen of Torwood Castle; pots, plates, glasses, ingredients, herbs, spatulas, ladles, and even a castle cook occupied this busy kitchen. She had yet to see me standing in the doorway, as her back was turned, and she was engrossed in chopping up an onion for the stew. She was a well-rounded lady who looked about sixty years old, and she wore a cooking cap that was unable to control her wild hair, grey curls escaping out the sides of it. Her apron covered her round belly, which stuck out a little bit too much. She was obviously a very good cook. What did they say, never trust a skinny cook? Well, if this was the case, then this cook had my complete and utter trust in her cooking, and I had every intention of trying her food.

  I noticed a tray of what looked to be freshy baked cookies cooling on a rack on the bench. I decided to reach out and grab one before heading off to explore the rest of the castle. As my hand almost reached the cooling cookies’ location and was about to make contact with one of the cookies, the cook spoke without moving an inch, her back still turned. “Ah, lass, I wouldn’t be doing that if I was you,” she said ever so calmly as she continued to chop away at an onion. “Each cookie is accounted for, and if I am missing just one, the lord of this castle will not be impressed. He is entraining tonight, there is a banquet dinner and dance in the great hall. All of his upmost important friends from the town are coming.”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” I replied as I pulled my hand away quickly. “I’m just ravenous. I have not eaten for a while and am starting to feel rather ill.”

  At that point, the cook turned around, her face soft and kind-looking. “Well, lass, we can’t have a fine-looking lass such as yourself going around hungry, can we now. Come sit, I will put something together for you.” She grabbed my arm to lead me to a seat in the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, you are freezing to the bone, let me make you a cup of tea first.” She put out her hand to introduce herself. “Mrs Chubs.”

  I couldn’t help it, I gave a little giggle as she introduced herself, but I quickly controlled myself as I saw her confused face looking down at me as I sat on the kitchen chair. It was a very suitable last name for her, I thought, and it was now my turn to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m Letticia Little.”

  It was now time for Mrs Chubs to have a little giggle over my last name. I returned that same confused look she had only just given me moments before. I was by no means little in height, I thought to myself.

  Mrs Chubs obviously disagreed. “Well, Letticia Little, it is very nice to meet you. And how is that you know the lord of this castle?” she asked curiously.

  With the risk of being thrown out of the castle before my belly was even full, I decided to play along. “Oh, we go back awhile now, childhood friends in fact,” I said with mock certainty in my voice.

  “Oh, how very lovely. Well he is just out on a hunt at the moment and should only be another hour or two at the most. You are rather early for tonight’s dinner, however. Are you staying the night at Torwood Castle?”

  The aroma that filled the air of the kitchen, which continued to make my senses go into overdrive, caused me to lose complete common sense this time, and I replied without a moment’s thought. “Why yes, Mrs Chubs, I am indeed.”

  Mrs Chubs smiled. “Well, splendid. After you have a bite to eat, I will get the butler to show you to your room.”

  Only a bite, I thought to myself. I needed a whole lot more than just a bite, I needed a feast!

  In the end I stuffed my face with more than just a bite. It turned out Mrs Chubs’ interpretation of a bite was in fact my idea of a feast. So I was very satisfied as I sat in the corner at a little round table, the castle cat at my feet, eyeing up any leftovers—of which sadly there was none. The cat gave me an evil look when i
t saw my empty plate, before striding away. Cats never did like me, they must have sensed I was not at all fond of them, either. This cat, though, now had it in for me. I could see it in its eyes as it purred and rubbed itself up against Mrs Chubs’ thick legs, while all the time not taking its glaring eyes off me.

  I decided now was the time to thank Mrs Chubs and be on my way. As I took my empty plate up to the wash bucket, I hugged and thanked her for that lovely bite to eat.

  “It was my pleasure, lass, anytime. I will get the butler to show you to your room now.”

  “That’s very kind of you, thank you,” I replied, and headed out of the kitchen door, but not before I was given a huge evil hiss by the castle’s cat, so big in fact, it made me jump in fear.

  I made my way back along the corridor, deciding to venture up the first staircase I had come across as I entered Torwood Castle earlier in my hangry state, only to be met by the butler at the door. He was holding my suitcase, which I knew belonged to me as it was my very own unique Scottish-flag suitcase, one that only I had the pleasure of owning. I had never seen another one yet. It was blue all over with the white cross on the front. It did look very heavy, as if it was packed to the brim with clothes I do not remember ever packing.

  “Milady, would you ever so kindly follow me this way, and I will show you to where you will be staying.” The butler led me up the spiral staircase as we passed a gallery of pictures. One in particular stood out to me above all the rest. It had a gigantic golden frame, and a painted portrait inside of a person I could have only guessed was a relative to the lord of this house. They looked very snooty and upper-class, I must say. I was more interested in the detail of the frame than the picture itself, though. The engraved patterns in the frame were mesmerising and so elegant. The detail given to each engraved pattern was precise and even. You do not get frames like that anymore, I thought to myself. Then that thought lingered in my mind—what did I mean anymore. Where was I? How did I get here? This was not here yesterday, if I remembered correctly. This castle was in ruins, it was not a castle in its precise and original state.

  “Hells bells, Sophie!” I suddenly remembered. How could I have forgotten about Sophie, still asleep in the back on the van—still captured by James and Milla. I had to go free her. But then we arrived in front of a room, and the butler led me to a big wooden door and pushed it open. I proceeded to lose focus once again on what was important then—which was recusing Sophie—too busy staring at the grand view in front of me. A king-sized four-poster bed occupied most of the room. It was covered with a green velvet bedspread, and pillows in matching cases that looked freshly puffed. A far cry from my sleeping arrangements last night.

  In the corner of the room sat an exposed redbrick fireplace that was well lit and already warming the room on this cold early December 1st morning. There was a tray sitting on the table beside the fireplace that contained a teapot, a jug of milk, and a pot of sugar. A little plate sat beside it with a cookie I had only eyed up moments before in the kitchen, which I was denied by Mrs Chubs but obviously allowed now. How it got to be up in my room waiting for me so fast was a mystery to me.

  The butler attended to my clothes as I sat indulging in my cookie. He pulled out each item one by one from my suitcase and proceeded to hang them up in the nearby wooden stand-alone closet. I didn’t recognise the clothes he was unpacking. They were garments that looked to have belonged in the 1800s. I was too tired and enjoying the cookie too much to interrupt him, though, so I let him carry on with his duties.

  Once the last dress was neatly hung up and my boots lined up on the bottom of the closet, he asked, “Will there be anything else, milady?”

  I answered with my mouth half full of cookie still, a muffled, “No, that will be all for now.” And so he left me to it, as I got comfy in front of the log fire. I stretched my legs out and placed my feet up on a nearby ottoman and gently closed my eyes. But only for a few seconds, however, until I yelled out, “Sophie!” How had I forgotten about Sophie once again? Lost focus on what was important?

  I jumped up, knocking the ottoman over in the process, and ran out of the room. I headed in the wrong direction down a hall for moment, until I got my bearings and remembered this wasn’t the way I was taken up to my room by the butler. So I turned myself around and headed towards the staircase that would get me down to the door of the castle, which would then take me back to the cobbled path where I would find the van parked at the bottom.

  I managed to find the staircase, the door, and the path, but what I was not able to find was the van with Sophie locked inside. I stood, confused and worried, in the exact same spot where the van had been only an hour before. I didn’t know what to think—had the van left me here, leaving Sophie at the mercy of James forever? Had the van never been here in the first place?

  My questions would be left unanswered for now, as at that very moment, a very familiar English accent belonging to a male was calling out my name. “Letticia, Letticia, Is that you? What on earth are you doing here?” Before I had even turned around to see who was calling out my name, I knew straightaway who it was. How could I not? That accent could only have belonged to one person and one person only, who I had once known, and been aware was a heart breaker. He broke my heart pretty badly so many years ago, even before I had met Paul.

  That English accent always had a way of making me go weak at the knees, had a way of creating goose bumps that popped up over every inch of my body. This person had the ability to take away all my self-control whenever he was near, and I used to cave in to all his wants and needs in the hope that one day we would be together forever. I guess, looking back on it now, where was my self-respect too? But at the time I just wanted him, needed him. I had made him out to be my very own knight in shining armour who was going to save me from the world, protect me and look after me forever; however, after only six months of dating this Englishman, my knight in shining armour ended up breaking my heart.

  But I knew I had to be strong now, that he still had the ability to make me go weak at the knees again and lose all the self-control I had left.

  I turned around and came face-to-face with that man who went by the name of Jim Cleveland. “Yes, it is I, Letticia,” I said ever so confidently. I decided to remain calm, act as if I did not have the faintest idea who he may be. “And you are?”

  “It’s me, Jim. Jim Cleveland.”

  I wished I was deaf at that very moment. I could hear and feel his accent pulling me back in. I reminded myself that this was no Scottish accent, and he was no Scott. Get a hold of yourself, Letticia. I repeated Scott’s name over and over again under my breath to make sure it stuck in my mind.

  “Wow, it’s so good to see you, it’s been years. We have so much to catch up on,” he said with a wink. I knew oh so well what he was implying, and to be honest, I was rather shocked, but intrigued at the same time. “It’s just so great to see you again, Letticia. Welcome to my castle.”

  I was still yet to confess that I did indeed remember him. Jim stood there now in silence, waiting for me to speak—and there we have it, finally Jim was waiting for me for something. It had always me waiting for Jim all those years ago.

  Now was the time to speak, though. “Your castle?” I said, sounding genuinely surprised at his achievements.

  “Yes, I am the lord of Torwood Castle,” he told me.

  “Well, Jim Cleveland, this is a very random situation we find ourselves in, and I must say, it’s a very lovely castle at that. I am, however, only here for the night.” I had to come up with something believable as to why I was even here, and without thinking it over, I said, “I am here visiting a dear old friend of mine, Mrs Chubs.” As soon as I said it, I knew how suspect it must have sounded, but then…

  “Oh, you know Mrs Chubs! She is a lovely lady and a great cook. I do hope you will be joining us for dinner later, then. Will you?”

  Without even thinking—again—I said, “Yes, yes of course, I’m very much looking f
orward to it.” Jim always had a way of making me say yes to him. He knew it as much as I knew it. He had me wrapped around his little finger all those years ago back in Australia, and by the looks of it, he still did.

  I didn’t feel so bad with the little story I had told Mrs Chubs now, about knowing the lord of this castle—as it turns out, I do actually know him very well. Maybe not as far back as childhood friends, but as far back in being a careless in-love young adult, who was so smitten by the now lord of Torwood Castle.

  I’m not sure what it was about Jim that got me so flustered and excited, it could have been to do with that English accent, or those deep blue eyes that had always sucked me in. Or maybe it was the rugged short stubble around his chin that he sported, along with his mysterious nature. I remembered back in the day, he had a way of being able to look naturally rugged and sexy while out doing activities such as bushwalking, surfing, gardening, or camping. Then he was able to switch it up in other areas within his professional life and look sleek and tidy and well-presented at that very high-powered job of his. This transition of looks used to get me rather hot and wet in my panties, if I was to be brutally honest. He had just enough ruggedness to counteract his sleek, tidy look. The perfect combination to make Letticia Little weak at the knees.

  He was doing it to me all over again, I could feel myself falling for his charm—which I knew would only cause me more heartbreak in the long run, but at that moment, I was only focused on the short run, like I so often did. But I decided to show some self-control for once in my life and stood my ground.

  He must have picked up on it, as he then announced, “Well I must be off, my footman is waiting to get me ready for tonight. Let’s have a drink and a chat later, shall we?” he said, and before I could even say yes, as he knew I would—great self-control there, Letticia—he was off back into that mysterious life of his that he never quite let me into. He had a way of keeping me out on the perimeter, but just in enough to keep me interested and keen and wanting more all those years ago, and here he was, still using the same tactics on me. In hindsight, I allowed him to do so, so if my heart gets broken once again, I only have myself to blame.