Chapter Two

Surprisingly, everything did look—and feel—better in the morning. Though that was most likely the result of spending the best part of two days tucked up in a warm, comfortable bed—despite not being aware of it for much of the time.

Connie’s temporary bedroom was filled with light, and on this occasion, it had nothing to do with electricity or light bulbs. The sun forced its way through and around the fabric of the curtains, apparently trying to make everyone aware it had won the battle with the clouds and rain—for now, at least.

She let out a yawn and stretched, while psyching herself up to clamber from the warm, soft embrace of the bed. Just because things seemed better now didn’t mean she relished the day ahead. She had no idea where she was going to go, or what she was going to do, for starters. That had been a perfectly acceptable state of affairs when she’d first taken off, since all she wanted to do was put as much distance as was physically possible between her and him. Now, though, she couldn’t stop her brain from chiming in with questions:
Where will you go? Where will you sleep? Where will you wash yourself, your clothes? What will you eat? What will you do when your money runs out?

Unable to answer any of the questions, Connie growled at her own annoying—not to mention extremely concerning—thoughts, then reluctantly threw off the thick duvet and got up. Padding over to the en suite, she resolved to take things one step at a time to avoid becoming overwhelmed and sending herself into a panic. She wouldn’t get anything done if she became paralysed by fear. Her mental state was fragile enough as it was.

First, use the bathroom. Then get cleaned up. Get dressed. Pack your bag. Leave this room in a tidy state. Go downstairs and find the kitchen to get some food. Then go and see Frances.

She stopped there, since there was nothing else beyond that. But that was seven things to do. Maybe if she did them all at a fairly languid pace, by the time she’d checked a few off, her brain would have supplied something to tack onto the end. Some kind of action plan. Or even just an action would do. Anything that wasn’t nothing. Nothing was hopeless. Pointless. If she fell down that particular rabbit hole, she may as well turn around and head back to where she’d come from.

No. No way. I am a strong, intelligent, resourceful woman. I’ve got this far, which is an achievement in itself. He is nowhere to be seen. I’m the one in control now. I can do this, make a new life for myself. People survive much worse situations than this—even thrive. And so will I. I’m not giving up.

This time Connie couldn’t stop her voice from trembling, just as she couldn’t stop the tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill. “I, uh… thank you. I will. S-see you in the morning then, I guess.”

Will cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and jumped to his feet. “Right, well, I can see I’m no longer needed here, so I’ll be on me way.”

Connie watched as he tucked the chair he’d been sitting on up against the wall, then hurried to the door. Just before he disappeared, she called out, “Thank you, Will. For finding me… helping me.”

He gave a curt nod. “Yer welcome, lass. I’d have done the same for anyone. Not good to be wandering these hills in filthy weather like that. Blowing a hoolie, it was. I’m just glad I found ye when I did. Sleep tight, and safe travels, wherever yer going.”

He’d gone before she could respond. With raised eyebrows, she turned back to Frances, who’d also got up, but didn’t appear to be in quite such a hurry to leave. “Eat your soup,” she gestured to a tray Connie hadn’t previously noticed on the dressing table, “then get some sleep. You know what they say—everything will look better in the morning. I can’t guarantee the weather will conform—this is Scotland, after all—but you’ll feel better after some more sleep and a nice, hot shower. Or a bath. Whatever you prefer. Like I said, there’s plenty of hot water.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “See you tomorrow, Connie. Sleep well.”

“Y-yes, I will. Thank you.” God, how many times have I said thank you, now? I’m like a bloody parrot.

But then, she realised, thank you was the very least she could say to the people who had, in all honesty, probably saved her life.

“Aye.” He nodded, which flipped some strands of his ginger hair into his eyes. He shoved them away with the impatient scrape of a hand. “Like Frances said, ye were in quite the state when I found ye. Wetter than a loch, shivering worse than anything I’ve ever seen, yer teeth chattering and all. I dumped all me tools where I stood and tried to help ye. Wake ye up—but ye were seriously out of it. I gave up in the end, just scooped ye up and brought ye back here. Thought it was for the best. Frances took over then—she got ye undressed and warmed ye up. And not a moment too soon, I reckon.” He absentmindedly scratched his beard, the same burnished-copper colour as his hair, then gave a decisive nod. “I’m mighty glad ye are all right. Like Frances said, ye had us worried.”

“Will’s right,” Frances put in, drawing Connie’s attention back to her—a shame, really, as she much preferred looking at Will. “You can’t go anywhere now. Well, you can, if you want. You’re not a prisoner here, obviously. What I mean is, it’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s wet. Surely wherever you need to be can wait until tomorrow? You’re welcome to stay here another night. This room is spare at the moment anyway.” She paused. “Is there anyone you need to call? Anyone who will be wondering where you are?”

Connie swallowed hard, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. She shook her head. “No. I don’t need to call anyone.” Well, that was true, at least. She deliberately ignored the second question, hoping Frances would think the answer Connie had just given covered that, too.
He would most definitely be wondering where she was, would be out looking for her. Her friends and family, on the other hand, wouldn’t yet know anything was amiss. Not until the letter Connie had posted near King’s Cross Station landed on the doormat at her mother’s house, anyway. And that wouldn’t have happened too quickly, given the sheer amount of post which went through the system in central London, plus she’d deliberately used a second-class stamp, buying herself some time to put plenty of distance between her and her home. Her old life.

She’d worked her week’s notice at her job, so her boss—ex-boss, now—wouldn’t be expecting to see her again. All ends were neatly tied up. Or at least as tied up as they could be when you’d done what Connie had done. Had a mental breakdown, then taken off and left everything behind.

She forced a smile. “Thank you. For everything. Again. And yes, if that’s all right, I will stay another night. Then I’ll be out of your way tomorrow morning.”

Frances watched her for a moment or two, as though assessing her, then nodded slowly. “Of course. You’re very welcome. And welcome to stay. There’s no need to rush off tomorrow, though. Get up whenever you’re ready. The clothes you were wearing have been laundered and dried, and everything in your bag has been dried.” She gave a wry grin. “It wasn’t just you and your clothes that got soaked through.” Jerking her head towards a door off to her right, she went on, “Bathroom’s through there. Plenty of hot water for a shower. In the morning, make sure you go down and get some breakfast. The kitchen is out of this door,” she pointed behind her, “turn left and make your way to the end of the corridor, where you’ll find the stairs. Go down to the ground floor, and the kitchen is your first door on the left. Whoever is in there will find you something to eat and drink. Then please, come and find me before you leave, just so I know you’re all right. Okay?”