Free A Spell of Snow by Jill Rowan Page B

took a quick look at my mobile phone; it was six
o’clock. No messages of concern from Cheryl, though, which proved my point –
she didn’t care about me; she’d taken me in out of duty. Then I noticed the ‘no
signal’ indicator. I wasn’t more than five miles out of town, surely? Maybe Rillsend
was in some sort of black spot. Well, it was a tiny place. I couldn’t
understand why the bus stopped there at all.
         I kept on walking
doggedly, ignoring the continuing snowfall as I dwelled on my unhappiness. I
thought about my old life with my mum, and the homestead, and the horses. More
tears rolled down my cheeks as I recalled how hard my mum had worked to build
up the riding centre, and how I’d loved to help, so much so that I’d bunked off
school far too often. But Mum had understood – there were better things to do
in life than study.
         It was the cold
that roused me. The wind was stronger, the snow had become a blizzard, and I
was struggling through a couple of inches of snow in a pair of inadequate
trainers. I pivoted around, looking for any sign of the two women I’d been
following, or at least the couple of houses I’d seen from the bus, but by now I
was in a country lane surrounded by fields on all sides.
         I took out my
mobile again, and noted with a shudder that there was still no signal. Still,
all I had to do was retrace my steps and I’d be back at the bus stop soon
enough. Then I’d just wait and catch the last bus back – no harm done except to
the non-existent relationship I had with my aunt.
         I started back
down the lane, but the snow was falling more thickly than ever, and if it
hadn’t been for the hedges I wouldn’t even have been able to follow the
direction of the road. After what seemed like an hour I was sure I must have
walked far enough to get back to the bus stop and far beyond, but there were
still fields in every direction. Where had the houses gone?
          In panic I began to run, my trainers
slipping in the fresh snow, my feet numb with cold. There had to be a
house somewhere nearby. I pulled out my mobile again and stared uselessly at
the ‘no signal’ symbol. I supposed I ought to send a text to Auntie Cheryl
anyway, just in case I passed through a pocket of signal at some point. I
swallowed my pride and keyed, I’m sorry. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere
at Rillsend. Could you come and get me? I pressed send and hoped she’d
actually be able to find me if she did drive out here. With the snow this
thick, driving would be difficult. Then it struck me – not one car had passed
me. The last vehicle I’d seen was the bus. Surely that couldn’t be right, even
in the middle of nowhere?
         I started running
again, but I was getting tired, and I stumbled, falling into the snow with a
shriek and grazing my knees on sharp stones protruding from the dirt track
beneath. I sat and looked at the dark blood mixing with snow and just gave
myself up totally to sobs. I’d wanted to get away from my aunt, from everything
I hated about my new life, but now that my anger had dissipated I just felt
like a fool.
         A slight sound in
the distance brought me out of the downward spiral. I looked up keenly,
listening. That had surely been one of the most familiar sounds of my life back
in Australia: a horse blowing through its nose. I couldn’t mistake it.
         I struggled to my
feet and peered over the nearby hedge, scanning the white fields for a moving
shape, and talking to encourage the horse to know a human was near. It
whickered slightly, and then I saw it, halfway across the adjacent field. It
was bobbing its head; a sign of agitation.
         I looked for a
break in the hedgerow, still talking to the horse. The wind whipped my words
away, and I wasn’t sure it heard me, but eventually I found a gate and
clambered over it. The horse turned its head fully towards me as I stumbled
across the snowy tussocks of grass in the