Free Someone Special by Katie Flynn Page A

stupid place to put a statue, halfway across a path! The thing had virtually attacked her; if she hadn’t bumped into it she would have been well out of here by now, on her way home. What was that word Mrs Cledwen had used with such force? Yes, bloody! It was a bloody statue, a beastly stupid statue,and she just hoped it was as injured by the encounter as she was.
    She was cursing the statue in the worst words at her command – and they turned out not to be nearly bad enough – when someone spoke to her. A deep, low voice came from above her head.
    ‘What the devil … just who do you think you are, crashing about down there?’
    She looked up. A dark figure was leaning out of the golden window; silhouetted against the light she could not make out any features, but the voice had been a man’s.
    ‘I’m … I’m sorry,’ Hester stammered. It must be the old man, that would be just her luck, and what would he think of a scrubbing woman who got lost on her first visit to the castle, crashed through his garden wreaking havoc and – she glanced down at her enemy, supine at her feet – breaking a valuable statue into three distinct and separate pieces? ‘I was lost. I’m going home now.’
    ‘Wait.’ It was the voice which had shouted at her across the hall, she was sure of it. ‘Don’t try to move, wait.’
    The golden light streamed out again; the figure in the window had disappeared. Hester drew a sobbing breath and looked wildly round her. If she ran like anything she might still get away, he couldn’t have got a very good look at her, he was in light, she in darkness. If she could only escape before he appeared … But she had gazed up at the window too long; her night-sight had temporarily deserted her. She could not pick out the path, all she could see were brambles, roses and more statues, or they might even be wicked fairies for all she knew, waiting to finish her off. No path, gleaming in the lamplight, no way of escape for a bruised and battered scrubbing woman.
    She stood still while her night-sight returned and starlight illumined the wild garden once more. But beforeshe could take advantage of it a dark figure emerged from under the big arch. He came towards her, clearly knowing the paths like the back of his hand. He reached her, and caught her arm just above the elbow in a firm grip.
    ‘Come along; I’ll set you on the right road,’ he said, his voice sounding half annoyed, half amused. ‘You can tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my garden as we go.’
    ‘I came about a job,’ Hester said breathlessly, thanking God he hadn’t appeared to notice the dismembered statue. ‘Mrs Cledwen said I was to leave by the back way, but it was nearly dark and I came in through the front door so I didn’t know where I was. I must have strayed off the path.’
    He had been leading her forward, rather like a prison warder leading a prisoner, but as she spoke he stopped and peered at her. Then he gave a muttered exclamation and pulled her into the beam of golden light falling from the window of the room he had just left.
    ‘My God! What are you doing here?’
    The light which fell on her face hid her questioner, but Hester frowned up at him. The voice was familiar, it sounded … She pulled away from him and moved sideways so that the light fell on his profile.
    ‘You! I thought I recognised that voice. I might ask you the same question, John. Do you work at the castle too?’
    He was still staring down at her, so she had ample opportunity to stare back. He had a harsh face, all planes and no curves, a hooked nose, thick black hair streaked with grey. His mouth gave nothing away, it was just a line, his chin jutted, clean-shaven usually but now blue with the day’s growth.
    ‘Work at the …? Oh, I see. Yes, I do. And what job did you come after?’
    ‘Scrubbing woman,’ Hester said. ‘Are you the gardener? Matthew never mentioned there was a gardener.’
    ‘Matthew?’ The man frowned,