Page 24 of The Quest for Excalibur
Before long, the pavement and streetlamps ran out, as the road narrowed into a country lane, looming dark and uninviting. I hesitated, nervous, not used to roads and traffic anymore. A car might hit me in the dark. The driver wouldn’t see me until it was too late. A few faint lights shone from houses on my left, but that was all.
I had to take the risk. If I heard a car coming, I could flatten myself in the hedgerow. With a determined step, I recommenced my journey.
Luckily, half a waxing moon hung in the sky, illuminating my way. Was that a farmyard, close by the road? Prickly hedges pressed to the tarmac on both sides.
No cars though. Thank goodness, as there was nowhere to get out of their way.
I hurried on, leaving the fields and hedges behind, and found a housing estate with more streetlights to all too briefly illuminate my way. A nice safe pavement to walk on. I stopped for a breather, hands on knees, chest heaving, which hurt, and got out my phone to check the map.
A car crawled past, the lights sweeping over me, and for a moment I froze, afraid without reason that it was Nathan come to look for me. That maybe the hospital had rung him when they’d found me gone, and he’d set out to track me. But the driver kept going, indifferent.
I straightened up and followed the car, half-running along the pavement, chased by the urgency of my quest. Certain that time was paramount, and if I didn’t hurry, it would be too late, and I’d never get back to where I belonged.
This had to be the very edge of Glastonbury, on a lane that skirted to the north of the town. Going the right way, at least. But it felt like more than the mile and a half I’d measured.
Oh, Arthur. I’m coming. Wait for me.
What was that? A road sign pointing left said Wick Hollow. No pavement, but I didn’t care. Narrow, dark, overgrown. My booted footsteps clattered on the tarmac, and the wind soughed in the bare branches of the trees making them whisper together conspiratorially. But within minutes I was in open country, with fields to either side, and just the odd tree here and there with its branches silhouetted against the moon.
I’m coming.
I had to stop to catch my breath. It rasped in my lungs and my ribs ached. Not broken, but badly bruised. Despite the cold, sweat soaked my stolen scrubs, and the rhythm of my heart pounded in my ears, ticking away at the time I had. Urgency pressed down on me. Breath scarcely regained, I set off again.
Ahead, the dark mound of the Tor showed as a darker hump against the blue-black of the sky, the lonely, ruined tower crowning it. I upped my pace, feeling like Cinderella at the ball, racing back because she’d forgotten the time, her pumpkin carriage already returning to its vegetable state. Did I have till midnight, like her? Would all be lost if I didn’t get there in time?
The lights of a car approaching from behind swept across the sky. Instinct had me climbing over a rickety five-bar gate into the nearest field. I crouched in the mud behind the hedge, fighting to still my heaving breath. Was I being paranoid?
The sound of the engine drew nearer, not traveling fast. I peeped out between the straggling hawthorn branches. A police car crawled past, the driver, window down, peering into my field. I crouched lower and closed my eyes, lest he catch a reflection in them.
Who else could he be looking for but me?
The car kept going.
I stayed still. Now what? Not the road, that was for sure. He might come back or lie in wait for me up ahead. I fished my phone out of my coat pocket. Eight missed calls from Nathan. Ignoring them, I studied the map again, satellite view. A junction lay ahead, at which I needed to turn left, and where the policeman might wait. Stowing the phone away again, I started down the field side of the hedge in the same direction as the police car, my eyes fixed on the hump of the Tor looming ever closer in the darkness. So near and yet so far.
I’m coming.
At the thankfully unguarded road junction, I found no handy gate and had to fight my way through the hedge to get out of the field, ending up scratched and bleeding. Someone had kindly put a bench on the corner, so I sat on it for a moment, pulling twigs and dead leaves out of my hair.
Did I dare walk along the lane until I reached the official, concrete path to the summit? What if the police car came back this way? They must think I’d be returning here because this was where I’d been found.
The friendly moon hid behind a patch of cloud, plunging my world into greater darkness. I’d have to risk it. Two hundred metres, maybe, according to the map. I could do it. That distance could be run in half a minute, if you were fit.
Unfortunately, with bruised ribs, I wasn’t at my best.
I ran, ignoring my aching body, ignoring my gasping lungs, ignoring the throbbing in my head. But maybe I was only staggering.
Just before the parking layby, I scrambled over a wooden five-bar gate into the small field that was sometimes used for overflow parking. At right-angles, another gate blocked my way to the summit. I had no time to waste.
Struggling to control my heaving breath, I clambered over the second gate and stood for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
Gathering my courage, I stepped out onto the pale, concrete path that ran beside the hedge and turned right toward the Tor in a shambling run.
I’d made it fifty yards up the path when the deceitful moon peeped from behind her cloud. A shout rang out behind me, and a powerful torch beam sent my shadow leaping up the path toward the Tor. “Hey, you. Miss Fry! Where d’you think you’re going? Stop!”
I slid to a halt and spun around. The police car must have been parked by the main gate, sitting in the dark and waiting to see if I’d turn up. Now, the officer stood by the kissing gate, a dark shape made almost invisible by the powerful torch he had fixed on me like a spotlight.
