The Grave

by Diane M Dickson

  As the day drew on the dullness and monotony was soporific and Sylvie let her thoughts drift. She was in a doze for a lot of the time, lulled by the sound of the engine and the rocking of the big car. She was jolted from her half dream as Samuel muttered to her.

  “We’re nearly there now.”

  The bald statement caused her stomach to flip with excitement, she hadn’t known there was a “there” and so hadn’t taken in details of their journey. They had passed through the Midlands and into Lancashire; she had picked up clues in the road signs. Crewe, Nantwich, they were in Cheshire she knew. Soon afterwards they skirted the great spread of the city of Liverpool. They stopped on the outskirts of Preston and had a cup of coffee and toasted buns at a roadside stall. From across the fields she had a glimpse of the cupola on the buildings of the University of Lancaster. She was surprised; her expectations of the north had been dirty towns, mean streets and factories. In reality though there was green everywhere, neat little villages and signs of affluence, especially as they‘d driven through Cheshire.

  They drove around the flat sweep of Morecambe Bay with its deadly sands and murderous tides and in the background against the great grey sweep of cloud were the blue green hills of The Lakes.

  It was gorgeous, there was water everywhere, rills, and rivers, streams and of course lakes. The winding roads meandered through little gatherings of houses, painted cottages with slate roofs and mile after mile of stone walling. Undulating fells and dales were scattered with grubby sheep and at times they would round a corner and the view of stream, cliff, lake and woodland would simply take her breath away. She’d had no idea it was so beautiful in this northern part of her own country and the wonder of it all expunged for this brief time the misery of the last few days and the worry about what would come next.

  The high, wide sky was grey scudding cloud until every now and again the sun would force a few beams through to spotlight a cliff top or a sparkling, dancing stretch of water. She was mesmerised.

  They passed Windermere and then after another half hour or so wound down a narrow, one lane road between cottages with bright painted doors that opened directly onto the street. Samuel was unhesitating, it was obvious he was familiar with the area and knew exactly where he was heading.

  He swung the car carefully around a tight bend, pulled into the side and then reached into the back of the car. He dragged out his waterproof jacket and shrugged it over his shoulders. It was difficult in the confined space and she helped him, holding the sleeve so he could slide his arm into it. She expected that he would jump down, perhaps he needed to pee. Once he had the coat on though he just shrugged up the hood, pulling it forward over his face. He drew back onto the road and drove a few minutes towards the borders of the little hamlet. Almost at the edge of the village there were a few modern houses stood back from the road in simple gardens. He reversed up a narrow lane and then turned off the car engine and sat for a moment watching through the window into the gathering dusk. When he was satisfied, with what she wasn’t sure, he clicked open the door.

  “Hang on here for a bit. If you see anyone coming just keep your head down. I won’t be long.”

  She nodded and watched him walk back the way they had just driven. The evening air quickly chilled the interior of the car and she dragged her own jacket over the seat back and shuffled herself into it. The engine ticked and clicked as it cooled and the evening song of birds she couldn’t name were the only other company. She waited, her nerves jangled and her mind racing as she tried to guess just what was happening now. She had handed her living over to this man totally in the last two days and she felt adrift, floating unconnected, part of it was a peaceful feeling, like a child letting others make the decisions. There was also the reality of worry and fear about yet another ill thought out situation in her tumbled and chaotic young life.

  Chapter 17

  The beam of a torch swung through the darkness picking out the gnarled and tormented branches of hedgerows and Sylvie bobbed her head down below the level of the dashboard. In the event it was Samuel, he swung the door open.

  “Okay, it’s a little walk, you take the smaller bags.”

  While Sylvie climbed down onto the mud of the turn in he opened the rear doors and retrieved the bags and laid them on the ground. She reached for her own and the smaller one of his.

  “Hold on, I need to pull the car further back.”

  He slid behind the wheel and reversed until the car could barely be seen through the overhanging branches and tall weeds.

  “That’ll have to do for tonight. Come on, can you manage those bags?”

  She bent and lifted them one in each hand, but he had already turned away to retrieve the remaining holdalls.

  “I’ll come for the food box later.”

  He strode off glancing behind just once to check if she was managing to keep up, laden as she was with the two bags and her rucksack swinging from one shoulder.

  They walked for a couple of minutes; up ahead the door of one of the small cottages opened and a spill of yellow light fell onto the narrow pathway and across the road. Samuel drew back into the hedgerow pulling her with him and throwing a hand across the front of her to hold her still on the uneven ground. She hardly dared to breathe though in truth she had no idea what this was all about. She knew neither where they were going or who they were hiding from specifically. He had shown no concern in the McDonalds or the supermarket so why now, in the dusky light of the Lake District evening, was he so nervous and secretive. A figure emerged from the little house and turned to walk off in the other direction from them. The burning ashes of a discarded cigarette end sparkled like a tiny firework and then were extinguished in the night. The silhouette faded becoming vague and insubstantial as it moved off into the darkness.

  When he was happy there was no-one else around, they drew forward again into the drive of the last of the houses. He led her down the small stretch of concrete and pushed open the front door. It was cold and clammy inside and though it didn’t smell of neglect and dirt it had obviously been shut up for some time. The air was still and stale. There was the faint smell of bathroom cleaner and an air freshener had been left somewhere imbuing the atmosphere with an artificial chemical scent.

  He pushed the door closed and dropped the luggage.

  “I’m sorry we can’t put any lights on, but once your eyes adjust I think you’ll manage. I can’t turn the heating on, the steam from the vent might be seen from outside. Are you okay Sylvie.”

  His tone was gentle now and he placed his hands on her upper arms rubbing up and down as if he were trying to warm her. His manner was changed, as if he had reached a sanctuary and could let go the grip on his nerves.

  “You’ve been very patient and I know I haven’t been any company but I wanted to get us somewhere safe. I don’t think we have any need to worry but I don’t like it when I’m not in control.

  “I was heading for Hull, planning on Holland, but you having no passport, it threw me. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know and I can sort it, but it’ll take a few days and I didn’t want to risk hotels and so on, just in case. We should be okay here though, but it’s essential no-one knows so we’ll keep the lights out. The cooker is gas and has an external vent so it’s a no go, I’ll bring the camping stove and we can make a drink and a sandwich.

  “Tomorrow I’ll get things sorted better but let’s just be careful for now okay?”

  The small physical contact had almost reduced her to tears and she couldn’t speak but gave him a quivering smile. He looked down at her, his eyes were gentle and the hard lines of his face softened. He was somehow more humanised.

  “I know I’ve said this before, but you know you aren’t in any trouble Sylvie, you didn’t do anything wrong. If all this is too much for you, and I wouldn’t blame you if it was, then I can take you to Windermere tomorrow. You can get a train to Manchester and on to wherever you like. I have to
get out of the country at least for a while but you don’t.”

  “I’d rather stay with you Samuel, I would. I would never tell anyone about what happened I want you to know that, never, ever, but I just feel so lost right now and I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. Yes I’d rather stay with you. I’m sorry about the passport.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, we can stay here for a few days and then we can probably carry on.”

  He glanced round in the darkness and she detected a slump in his shoulders as he turned his head, taking in what could be seen of the small lounge and the kitchen beyond.

  “I thought a passport took weeks and cost a load of money. I haven’t got much money.”

  “It’s okay, we can’t go down the usual route now anyway, don’t worry I know some people.”

  “Where is this place Samuel? is it a holiday cottage, I saw there were loads of them all around. I’m not surprised, it’s lovely up here, I had no idea how nice it was.”

  “Yes it is lovely and no this isn’t a holiday cottage, this is mine, this is my home.”

  Chapter 18

  Holding the torch low he led her to the stairs, they had scratched together an evening meal from the things picked up at the supermarket. With the small stove screened behind the open kitchen door, they had made tea. Pulling cups and plates from the cupboards and dusting them quickly on a towel he had revealed a domesticated side that argued with the ramshackle, dragged together man she had spent time with in the shack.

  The travelling and the stress had worn them down and, as soon as they had finished their food, they left the dirty pots in the sink and made their way upstairs. He was confident and unhesitating walking around in the dark, he knew this house well.

  It was strange to see him now. Sylvie had only ever been aware of him as the weirdo in the woods but watching him here it was difficult to believe he hadn’t spent all his time here, in this little place in the Lake District. She was confused and longed to question him.

  The small landing with four doors lined along one wall was reached by an open wooden staircase. He threw open the first of the doors.

  “Bathroom.”

  She nodded, assuming there would be no hot water but at least she could have a good wash. He surprised her yet again with his intuition.

  “I’ve turned on the electric. I think that, providing you leave the room light off and don’t open the window, you can have a shower, it’s an instant heat thing, but use your own towel. We have to be careful, when we leave here it must look as though we’ve never been. I have someone come in about once a month to check it all out and to clean, I’m not sure when they are next due. I don’t want there to be any sort of trail, just on the off-chance that anyone asks questions.

  He pushed the next door, the curtains were open and the moonlight through the little window outlined a bed and dresser. The floor was covered with a light coloured carpet, this house was homely and comfortable.

  “You can sleep in here if you want. Strip the bed though, we’ll use the blankets from the car. I know it’s not as comfortable but again I don’t want to leave evidence. Tomorrow we could pick up some cheap sheets and then take them with us when we go. Will you be warm enough?”

  It was a pivotal moment, Sylvie understood and she weighed her options.

  “Maybe it would be warmer if we shared the blankets.”

  She had crossed her fingers in the dark, she didn’t want him to turn her down, couldn’t bear it if he rejected her now. She felt sad and vulnerable and the thought of lying in the cold and the dark of this small room, brought tears to her eyes. She wanted to curl up with this big bear of a man who had, to her amazement, proved to be a gentle, caring person. She wanted him to be a friend and life had instructed her that the way to achieve friendship with a man was to offer her body.

  He stood before her, his head cocked to one side and then with a brief nod he turned and entered the room.

  “We’ll use this room. I’ll go and get the blankets. You can have a shower now if you want to but leave the light off, can you manage?”

  “Yes. Thanks Samuel.”

  The shower was wonderful, and as she rubbed cream into her warmed skin and slipped into a clean T-shirt for sleeping she felt relaxed and there was a tiny germ of happiness uncurling in her heart. If only this could have really been a holiday. She had never had one and this was exactly what she would have wished for, a sweet little house, a different environment and a kind friend.

  She heard the door click quietly and held her breath for a moment until she realised that the chance of it being any other than Samuel was so remote as to be impossible. As she went back into the bedroom he had begun to strip off his travel-stained, stale clothes. She crossed the carpet and wrapped her arms around his naked upper body. As he hugged her in return she laid her head against the strength of his chest and in the dark and the silence she heard the muted thudding of his heart.

  Chapter 19

  It was raining in the Lake District, it often did and so it was largely unremarked. This low pressure system though covered the whole of the country and the resulting rain had fallen unrelentingly in southern parts for two days. The dancing droplets had peppered the slow sweep of the river and dribbled from the leaves of the old trees. The soil had sucked it in, great roots stretched and coiled in their leisurely, relentless way moving the earth and reorganising the underground.

  The willow had stood for more than a century, perched on the banks of the river. Rain from the streaming branches dripped endlessly into little runnels formed around the base and trickled away to join the rising flow. Mud slid down the incline and as the level rose the homes of the rats and voles were inundated and the grass of the banks was swallowed by the swelling waters.

  Back in the north, Samuel and Sylvie had spent the night curled together under the inadequate covering. While he had taken a quick shower she had laid under the woollen blankets, cold and a little apprehensive. She was experienced sexually, able to satisfy animal lust with men like Phil and the few of his contacts he had forced on her, but she had never made love to anyone. Now, with Samuel her heart craved affection, and tenderness.

  He climbed in beside her bringing the damp warmth of the bathroom with him. He still hadn’t shaved and the rough stubble was harsh against her cheek as she turned to him, it was real and honest and she revelled in the masculinity of it. He kissed her. The last time, in the shack, there had been no kissing though the sex had been kind, now his warm lips pressed gently onto hers and she opened her mouth in response.

  His hands explored her warming body, hesitant at first, still testing, asking questions which she answered with moves of her own. As his confidence grew and the memory of passion came back to him he caressed her breasts, her thighs and her belly. As they discovered each other the growing sensations took her away, from the worry and the fear and stress. Her dark world filled with pleasure and, at the end, the nearest thing to ecstasy she had ever known.

  For Samuel it was a revelation, he had been convinced for years that the only sexual release he would have would be of his own making. It had become nothing more than a physical necessity. It left him saddened and bereft reminding him as it did of what had been and what he truly believed was no longer for him.

  This young body, supple and giving in the darkness, dragged him back to a place he had lost and, though he never for one moment forgot this was Sylvie, it didn’t feel like the betrayal he had always imagined it would do. As the sex became something deeper and more spiritual he believed he felt a benediction, it was right it should be here in this place that had once meant so much and, against everything he would have imagined, he felt no guilt. With Sylvie totally in the ultimate moments, he felt the great shift of grief and his soul soared and his life began again.

  They woke early to the gentle sound of the rain shushing on the window panes and, though they knew the day would hold challenges to be met, they gifted themselves the time to e
ndorse their new relationship, loving each other once more in the grey morning as they had in the darkness.

  Chapter 20

  “We have to be very careful, it’s important that the house looks empty and when we leave there’s no trace of us ever being here. I have to go out soon, there’s no signal here for a mobile phone or my internet dongle. You can come with me if you like or you can stay in here, it’s up to you.

  If you do stay, keep away from the windows and try not to disturb things too much.”

  “It’s okay Samuel, I’ll stay here if you don’t mind and I’ll be careful. I know I’ve been a bit of a wimp up to now but, really I’m fine. I can look after myself normally, well, much better than you probably think.