Free Yours Truly by Kirsty Greenwood Page A

are partly obscure d by frost sparkled E ngl ish i vy and on the huge wooden front door hangs a mistletoe wreath twinkling with fairy lights.
    Up in the distance behind the pub, portly, pale green hills sit against the wintry skyline. I can see what looks like a massive hotel or a manor house and further down in the valley, a vast church steeple makes for a gorgeous view. There’s even some sheep and cows hanging out up there too. Sheep and cows!
    It’s really stunning. A sharp contrast to the red brick jungle and kebab shops of Manchester.
    “ Bloody hell! I cannot believe Amazing Brian lives here, ” I say as we drive down the cobbled road and park in a little car park by the pub. “ You’d have to be loaded to afford one of these houses. ”
    “ Ooh. Maybe there’re lots of rich men here! Rich men looking for young, nubile wives. Awesome. ”
    I roll my eyes and dig out the hypnotist card from my purse.
    “ Well, we can’t stay long enough to find out , I’m afraid. I’m getting me un hypnotised and then I’ve got to get back to Olly… It says on here that Brian lives at number 40 The Lilliput Cottages. ”
    We look around.
    “ Lilliput Cottages are those ones up that road. There’s a street sign. ” Meg points to the sloping road between the post office and newsagents.
    “ Brill. Be careful though, Meg, ” I say, looking sternly down at her dangerously high heeled boots. “ It looks pretty icy. ”
    I soon find out that trainers are the absolute worst thing to wear when attempting to walk up an icy road with an incline. While Meg bounds along in her heels with no problems, I slip and slide, my stomach plummeting each time I think I’m about to go bum over boobs.
    I grab onto Meg’s arm for balance.
    “ Ew. You’re getting all sweaty, ” she yells, but doesn’t pull away, bless her. I use the arm not clinging onto Meg to surreptitiously wipe my cardigan (Meg’s cardigan) sl eeve over my damp forehead. Man , I’m unfit. I really should go to the gym.
    “ I’m actually fearing for my life right now, ” I pant as I my legs slide outwards. “ Are we nearly there? Woaaah! ”
    “ We’re at number twelve. A bit longer. Be strong! ”
    In concentrated silence, we plough on up the road. Meg almost dragging me as I slide here, there and everywhere like an elephant on roller-skates.
    We finally reach number forty and pause for breath.
    Brian’s house is separate from and larger than the others in the row. It’s really pretty with winter roses growing around the front door and a silvery grey thatched roof hanging low over the imposing building.
    “ Well, hellooooo Brian! ” Meg wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “ If I’d have known he lived here in this big old house I’d have been much nicer to him last night. Still… I can always make amends. ” She reaches discreetly into her top and hoists up her boobs so that they spill out of the tight navy halter she’s wearing.
    “ How do I look? ” she asks, wetting her finger and wiping mascara crumbs from under her eyes.
    “ Like a tart trying to seduce a vulnerable old man. ”
    Her mouth drops open in indignation. She frowns and pulls her top up again.
    “ I’m not asking you questions anymore. You’re mean when you tell the truth. And he's hardly vulnerable, Natty. ”
    “ I know. I’m sorry. It’ll stop soon. I'll be back to my old self and we can forget this whole episode. Write it off as a random adventure.… ”
    We knock on the door and wait.
    “ Good adventure, ” Meg tuts.
    After about thirty seconds I knock again. This time I put some oomph into it.
    Bang, bang, bang! BANG!
    Nothing.
    It’s fine. It’s totally fine. He’s probably in a back room or… having a siesta or something.
    I crouch down and push open the letter box at the bottom of the door. Then I lie down and peer through. I can see... a carpet. A blue carpet.
    “ Um… Brian? Are you there? ” I yell hopefully.
    No answer.
    Meg crouches down with me.
    “