THE GRAVEL PATH
Alison’s journey to the cottage had taken the anticipated two hours, but driving alone was an experience she disliked. She would normally be with David, but this was a weekend with ‘the girls’, an idea the three friends had suggested some time ago, and now was really happening. Two days in beautiful Cragdale was the choice, being suitably placed for the three of them.
Accommodation was found online, check lists emailed, timing perfected; Alison would arrive first as she finished work early on Fridays. Sally would drive to Di’s and pick her up, arriving a couple of hours later.
Escaping suburbs, bricks and concrete gave way to stone, green fields and sheep…….lots of them. Through the tiny village of Ravensgill, Alison spotted the way sign pointing to Hilltop Cottage and she cautiously turned the car into a narrow track which took her up a sharp incline, levelling out near an ageing stone building which seemed to have grown up from the surrounding boulders. She fell in love immediately with the random stonework, slightly wonky roof where moss clung, small sash windows and the solid, all-protecting oak door. At the front, an area large enough for two cars was gravelled, and alongside, a narrow gate opened onto a path of similar material, leading to the front door. The stones made a muffled grinding sound as she drove on to park neatly, and Alison crunched her way to the door where she found the key in a safe box, then back and forth along the gravel path three times to take her belongings inside. With the afternoon dwindling, she left her bags unpacked, made a coffee and moved outside to sit at a small wrought iron table and take in the surroundings.
The hillside fell away, with a generous covering of trees, in between which it was possible to see patches of water. The sunlight now dipping in the sky glinted on tiny sail bedecked boats whose occupants were embracing the last vestiges of daylight. A low murmuring of voices crossed the distance, the valley capturing the sounds and playing with them, as if trying to compose something from them, a mix of faint notes, there yet at the same time barely audible. Birdsong added to the harmonious medley of background sounds, none trying to outdo the other. Time passed by and a slight chill made it’s presence felt, motivating Alison to go back indoors, noticing the extent to which the dusk was falling. Turning on the light, she checked her watch: 8pm, and still no sign of her friends.
A pile of logs and box of tinder in the hearth prompted Alison to set about creating a cheery blaze to be welcoming for Sally and Di, then took her case into one of the bedrooms and hung up her clothes, placing cosmetics on the dresser, toiletries in the bathroom. A noise halted her and she listened. It was that deep gravelly sound of a motor driving onto the allotted space. Car doors banged, then laughter rang out.
‘Here they are, at long last’, Alison said to herself, hurrying to the door. More jovial sounds met her ears, reminding her of the fun they always had when together, these school friends from some thirty years back. This is going to be a good weekend, she felt.
She turned the key and drew back the bolt she had secured as darkness fell. Footfall was heard approaching on the gravel path, and she flung open the door.
‘Whatever …. kept…. you…?‘ Alison started but didn’t finish. There was no-one there, and no car either. But she had heard it! Puzzled, she locked up once again and persuaded herself it must have been someone at the neighbouring cottage.
She passed another half-hour browsing through a magazine found on the coffee table, becoming restless and uneasy. Had Sally worked late? Had they forgotten something, having to turn back? But surely they would have rung.
What was on TV? That would distract her from this mounting anxiety. She picked up the remote and the first channel to come on was the local news……
…….’and the Cragdale road will be closed until tomorrow. Police say it is a notorious accident spot. The driver and passenger, both females in their mid-40‘s, were declared dead at the scene.’
Alison went cold, and could not move. She was still staring at the TV when the phone brought her to her senses.
It was David.
