Free No Longer Safe by A J Waines Page A

swish of a waterproof jacket before I saw him.
‘I’m stuck!’ I cried out. ‘I’m near some bushes caught in some kind of trap.’
    There was a rustle and heavy breathing above me. ‘What on
earth’s happened here?’ came the voice.
    ‘My ankle is jammed in some machinery, I think.’
    ‘Okay – let’s take a look.’
    He had remained behind me, so I couldn’t see his face, but
he sounded neither youthful, nor elderly – somewhere in between. I heard him
brush the snow aside with his gloves.
    ‘Oh, yeah – it looks like a rusty old plough,’ he said.
‘Dangerous relic, left out here in the open.’ He started jiggling the rods
underneath me. His voice was posh and English, not Scottish. Most importantly,
he sounded like he knew what he was doing.
    ‘Ouch!’ I cried.
    ‘Sorry. Do you think it’s broken?’
    ‘No – it’s just stuck,’ I replied.
    He came round to the front to inspect my other leg. ‘How
about this one?’
    ‘Just a scratch, I think.’
    ‘Part of the frame is twisted,’ he said. ‘I reckon the best
thing is if I press on the blade here, and you try to twist your foot out. Try
to get it ninety degrees this way. How does that sound?’
    I blew out a nervous breath, my face close to his. ‘Okay –
let’s try it,’ I said. He was wearing a green wax jacket and a tweed cap,
looking like a typical upper-crust landowner. In spite of the state I was in, I
couldn’t help noticing how distinguished he was; with sweeping curves beneath
his cheekbones and a narrow nose.
    ‘Okay, let your weight rest against me and let’s get you
into an upright position.’ I did as I was told, leaning into him. He smelt of
bracken with warm peppery undertones. ‘Now, keep hanging on to me while I
push.’ He looked earnest and determined. ‘Trust me?’
    ‘Yes…’ I said. I didn’t have much choice.
    My heart was battering away inside my chest. Screwing up my
eyes and fists, I waited for the agonising jolt as I tried to pull away. The
space opened out – and I didn’t feel a thing.
    ‘It’s free,’ he said. ‘Your foot’s out.’ I had to look down
to be certain. Sure enough my boot was resting on the edge of the tangle of
metal, not buried beneath it. I pressed my face into his jacket for a second,
overwhelmed with gratitude. I wasn’t going to be trapped here all night and die
of hypothermia after all.
    I thanked him, my lip trembling.
    He helped me climb out of the contraption onto solid ground.
The snow was tumbling down like breadcrumbs now. ‘I’m staying in a cottage near
here,’ I told him. ‘But to be honest, I got a bit lost.’
    ‘What’s the name of the cottage?’ He was still very close to
me; his body heat continuing to envelop me.
    ‘The name? Sorry, my mind’s gone blank. It’s owned by…Mrs
Elling…ford…or something.’
    ‘Ellington. It must be McBride’s Cottage. I’m renting the
next one along.’
    ‘There are others? I didn’t know.’
    ‘You could be forgiven for not realising you had
neighbours,’ he admitted. ‘Mine’s a good ten minutes further west.’ He held me
up under my arms and I looked straight into his sequin-grey eyes. ‘Can you make
it back, do you think?’
    ‘Yes, it doesn’t hurt.’ I said it too soon. My ankle was
stiff and cold, but I could have made more of the situation; affected a little
pain so I could hang on to him for longer.
    ‘Husband staying with you?’ he enquired.
    ‘I’m with friends.’
    We made our way back to the cottage. It was hardly any distance
at all. I didn’t know how I could possibly have lost my way. I felt stupid by
the time he guided me into a chair by the fireplace.
    ‘I’m fine, honestly,’ I said.
    ‘I’ll light this for you,’ he said, scooping up Karen’s lighter
from the hearth and getting the fire going. ‘Where are your friends?’
    It was nearly three o’clock. ‘Karen’s stuck at the hospital
– her daughter’s unwell. The other two – are upstairs, I think. Or