Borrowed Time - Page 8

She sighed and began to walk off again. “We’re not on the main road here. People don’t generally come down into the village unless they need to. Two people go missing and then you show up. You can see why he might be making assumptions.”

“But you came to help me. How did you know I wasn’t dangerous?”

She seemed to find my question amusing.

“I can’t pretend to know much about criminals, Mr Jacob, but I’ve enough sense to know that if you commit a crime in a place where you're the only outsider, you don’t hang around waiting to be caught and drawing attention to yourself dressed like that. Besides, if I’m being totally honest it was less about saving you and more about having the chance to wave a gun at Arthur. I’ve never liked him. Nobody does.”

She had a point but if those people had run off then it was none of my business. I just wanted to get home.

“I’m Mair, by the way,” she said as I tried to keep step with her. She walked like she was ten minutes late for something and I began to get a stitch in my side. “Not that you bothered asking.”

She shot me a grin over her shoulder that reassured me that she was teasing me rather than offended.

“Is it far?” I tried to make it sound like genuine curiosity but I was mostly concerned with how much longer we’d be walking. Years behind a desk had made me more unfit than I’d realised.

“This is it up here,” she said, pointing to a quaint little cottage with whitewashed walls at the end of the lane. A bit further on I could see some more buildings and what looked like a pub judging by the sign hanging over the door. Perhaps I’d be able to get a taxi from there.

“Right, in you go.” She held open the wooden door and then stood aside to let me enter, and I had to duck to get under the doorframe. Catching my first glimpse of the inside of her home I stopped dead, blocking the entrance. “Jesus,” I let out under my breath.

I don’t think I’d ever seen so much and yet so little in such a small space, and everything so old fashioned. No TV, no stereo, not even carpets on the cold stone floor.

I couldn’t tell if the room was meant to be a living room or a dining room or a kitchen or some sort of mix of all three. It had a large open fireplace, flanked by two doors on either side of it, and a third door which I assumed went out to the back of the house. Trinkets and utensils were scattered all around making the place look cluttered and the only area that seemed clean and free from junk was an old wooden table at the back of the room with two chairs on either side of it that looked like they could fall apart at any moment.

“Well don’t just stand there you daft fool,” Mair jabbed me in the back, edging me into the house. “Get inside or we’ll catch a death.”

The door clicked shut behind me as I entered further into the room. I stood on the spot and turned circles trying to take it all in while Mair looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

When I was a child we went on a school trip to a museum. It had relocated loads of old buildings from around the country and then restored and rebuilt them within the grounds so that we could see how people used to live years before. That’s what her house reminded me of.

“Oh my god,” I exclaimed, raising a hand to my forehead. “I get it now. This is a museum, isn’t it?” I felt quite smug about working it out.

Mair, busy jabbing at the fire with a poker, looked over her shoulder at me and cocked an eyebrow. “You do say the strangest things. Now come, let’s get a look at you.” She began to mutter to herself in Welsh and tapped a finger on her chin then spun on her heel and darted off through the door to the left of the fireplace.

“Here we are,” she called from behind the door. She’d left it open only a crack and I could just about make out a small bed tucked into the corner of the room. “You look to be about his dap.”

“His what?” I called back but got no reply.

“Put these on,” she said, flinging open the door and scurrying back towards me with a pile of clothes. “They may not be a perfect fit but it’s the best I can do and they’re dry at least. You can change in there.”

“Really, you’ve been great but I should be going,” I protested, but she pushed the clothes into my hand and nudged me towards the doorway.

I entered the room she had exited and pushed the door shut behind me. The bed was covered with lots of sheets, neatly made but none matching, and a solitary thin pillow. Plonking myself down on it, I hugged the clothes close to my chest and looked around the room. Behind the door was a chest of drawers, upon which sat a candle. I looked above me to the ceiling but there was no light fitting to be found. A small window to the side of the bed let in the room's only light and was decorated with a single curtain.

What the hell is going on here? Where am I? How did I even get here?

Having no answers to the questions that plagued me I stripped down to my underwear and looked through the clothes Mair had given me. They weren’t exactly my style but I wasn't in much of a position to complain and I was at least grateful that I’d be able to travel home in something dry. The off-white shirt was long enough to be a nightdress and hung loosely down to my thighs but I pulled it on anyway and did up the single button at the neck.

The brown trousers she’d given me, despite being a heavy woollen material, were surprisingly comfortable. I had to shimmy them down my waist a little to try and give me some extra ankle coverage and they were a bit loose at the waist but otherwise, they didn’t look too bad. A bit more hipster than my usual taste, I had to admit, but at least I was dry.

“How are you getting on in there?” Mair shouted from the other side of the door.

“The trousers are a bit big,” I responded. “Around the waist I mean.”

“Top drawer,” she called back, and I turned to the dresser.

Expecting to find a belt, I slid the drawer open and saw three pairs of suspenders. Having no other option, I slipped them on and pulled them tight.

“In for a penny…” I said, grabbing the final item of clothing Mair had given me; a waistcoat in a similar colour to the trousers. With my boots back on, I was set. Granted, I looked like an extra from a period film but I’d be back to my own wardrobe soon enough.

Tags: Russell Dean Romance
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