Free Running From the Storm by Lee Wilkinson

this morning when I looked for it to pack I discovered that Ella had borrowed it without even asking me.’
    Caris sighed inwardly. Julie and her sixteen-year-old sister were frequently in contention.
    ‘So I had to make do with my old one.’
    ‘Why don’t you make yourself a slice of toast and some tea before you start work?’ Caris suggested soothingly.
    ‘Just what I need to help me feel human again. Want a cup?’
    ‘Please.’
    ‘I’ll only be a mo …’ Julie disappeared into the small staff-room-cum-kitchen at the back.
    After two or three minutes she put her head round the door and, her mouth full of toast, asked, ‘Want to drink it at your desk?’
    Feeling it was unprofessional, it wasn’t normally something either of them did. But it was quiet, and with the rain coming down in buckets likely to remain so.
    ‘Why not?’ Caris answered.
    Julie reappeared quite quickly with two cups of tea and, having passed one over, went to sit behind her own desk.
    ‘Something bothering you?’ she asked suddenly.
    ‘Bothering me?’ Caris echoed. ‘No, nothing’s bothering me. Why do you ask?’
    ‘You look … I don’t know … sort of dazed, as if you’re not quite with it. When I first walked in you appeared to be miles away.’
    ‘I was,’ Caris admitted. Then with a sudden and quite unaccustomed desire to confide in somebody she explained, ‘Early this morning I had a dream that upset me. Made me think of the past.’
    ‘Want to talk about it?’
    One part of her didn’t. It was over and done with; best forgotten.
    But another part of her needed to face it, to talk about it one last time before she could hopefully lock it away for ever.
    As if the whole thing had happened to someone else and she was simply a bystander, emotionally uninvolved, Caris began to tell Julie about her dream, then about her first meeting with Zander. She was fine until she got to the part about the log cabin. At that point her spurious calm totally deserted her and, knowing she couldn’t talk about what had happened at Owl Lodge, she stopped speaking abruptly.
    Seeing Julie frown, and realizing that the girl suspected rape at the very least, she managed shakily, ‘It was absolutely magical, and I fell in love with the place.’
    Once again swamped by memories, she stayed silent for so long that Julie probed, ‘Am I right in thinking that the place wasn’t the only thing you fell in love with?’
    Caris nodded.
    ‘Any idea how he felt?’
    ‘I’d started to hope and believe he felt the same way about me. He was so right , so special, a wonderful, romantic lover—passionate and caring, fun to be with, exactly what I wanted and needed. It was as if I’d waited all my life for him …’
    ‘So what happened? Did he turn out to be married? Some men can be heartless,’ Julie added, with all the experience of an eighteen-year-old.
    ‘No, he wasn’t married.’ Suddenly unable to go on, Caris said huskily, ‘It just didn’t work out.’
    At that precise moment the door opened and a man walked in, making speaker and listener alike jump guiltily.
    Stirred into action, Julie whipped away the cups and vanished into the back room, while Caris struggled to pull herself together.
    What on earth had she been thinking of, sitting pouring out her heart to Julie like some love-sick teenager when she should have been working?
    After looking at a display of properties for sale, the newcomer approached her desk.
    With a pleasant smile, Caris listened to his requirements and agreed to show him over two likely houses at his convenience.
    By lunchtime she had talked to several more potential buyers, provided whatever information and photographs they requested and arranged at least half a dozen appointments for the following week.
    All she needed to do now was decide on the best way to handle that afternoon’s viewing.
    Normally she said very little, careful to apply no pressure and to allow the various properties to speak for