Free Someone Special by Katie Flynn

morning at ten?’
    ‘Yes, I’ll be here, though perhaps not every morning. And come in the back way, if you please. Mr Geraint would not be amused to find you in his front hall every day.’
    ‘I’m not walking by those geese,’ Hester said firmly. ‘If I have to get bitten to death to get here I’ll give the job the go-by.’
    Mrs Cledwen smiled. She looked quite different whenshe smiled; she ought to do it more often, Hester thought, smiling back.
    ‘No, it’s all right, the geese live in the main courtyard. If you turn to your left, ignoring the big arch, you’ll find another, smaller arch. Go under that and … but you may as well leave by the back door now, then you’ll see the back way for yourself.’
    She let Hester out into a courtyard with what she assumed were coalsheds and woodsheds to one side. Across the cobbles Hester went and under a small arch, to find herself in the wild gardens which she had noticed as she approached the castle, though seen at close quarters their resemblance to gardens was not striking. It’s downright dangerous, Hester thought, pushing painfully through rampant rose bushes and stopping to kick viciously at a clump of nettles threatening her bare legs. Poor old Prince Charming, if he had to tackle this lot to reach the sleeping beauty then he really needed that damned great sword.
    She had been longer in the castle than she had thought, though; the sun had set and night was approaching fast. In the dim half-light it was hard to see where the path had once led, and soon Hester realised that she was lost. No, not lost precisely, she corrected herself, glancing behind her at the dark bulk of the castle; she just couldn’t find her way out of the maze of the wild garden. Now that almost all the light had gone, the paths, hard to see in daylight, merged with all the rest. If she went straight ahead she would get bogged down in the beds and clawed to pieces by the straggly roses and the great mass of brambles which flourished where flowers had once massed in the borders. The only way out was back – she would find the castle wall, make her way along it until she reached the big arch, and then dive for the driveway below, hoping that the geese were roosting, or snoozing, or whatever it was geese did after dark. Just so long as they weren’t prowling aftertrespassers, preparing to spring out on the unwary …
    Hester found the castle wall and clung to the grey stone, feeling the most complete fool and praying that no one would come out and find her in this most embarrassing of predicaments. To lose oneself within feet of the house one has just visited, how could she admit to such a thing? But she began inching her way along, one hand on the wall, now and then having to move away for a moment when a shrub or a particularly large bramble patch barred her path but returning to the wall at once, as one returns to one’s mother when lost and alone. It was slow work but at least she was making progress, though she burned from nettle stings and could feel a thousand scratches where brambles and rose thorns had snatched at her undefended flesh.
    She rounded a buttress and it was then that she noticed the lighted window. It was quite high up, and it threw a golden glow right across the wild garden, illumining – oh, thank God, Hester thought exultantly – a small, meandering path. If she could reach that path it would surely lead her on to the driveway once more. She fixed her eyes on the path and began to hurry, which was her undoing; she walked into something solid, clutched at what felt like someone’s arm, let it go with a squeak of fright and realised it was a statue just as she began to fall, totally unable to help herself.
    Hester and the statue hit the deck together in a welter of arms and legs, Hester landing in what felt like a gorse bush. She disentangled herself and scrambled painfully to her feet, her fear and misery giving way to a much healthier emotion: anger. What a