“We’re here,” Dorran said, drawing an X in the large block of green signifying Banksy Forest.
“And Marnie is here.” Clare put the mark down before she could stop herself. Dorran watched her. She smiled sadly. “Not that she’ll be… anyway.”
Unlike Beth, Marnie had no bunker. Going to her farmhouse would be pointless. That didn’t stop it from hurting, though.
Clare cleared her throat. “All right, so this is the route I normally take when I’m visiting Beth. Most of it is a freeway, so it’s a smooth drive. The map is missing a road, but it starts about here and goes up to here.”
She drew a line along the path they were to take. Marnie’s farm was about an hour from the highway, and she tried not to squirm as she effectively cut her aunt out of the journey.
Keep focussed. Spend your strength on what’s possible, not on the past.
“Is any of it at risk of flood?” Dorran asked. “I’m not sure how far the snow extends, but if it’s melting, low streets are likely to be unpassable.”
“I’ve never had trouble with floods before.” She capped her pen. “But, uh, I guess the snows have never been this deep before, either.”
“We will deal with it if it becomes a problem, then.” He bent over the map, examining it. “There are a few alternate routes in a worst-case scenario. That is good. I want to be as cautious as possible. We will pack food for several days. I believe you said the car had bottled water, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“We will not have time to seal the rest of the concealed passageways before we leave, like I had initially hoped. No matter. The hollows will have reign over the house while we are gone. We can deal with them when we return.”
She bit her lip. “What about the garden?”
“I have given some thought to it. Before we leave, I will fit as much wood as possible into the furnace. It will be hot. Much, much hotter than the garden needs. But the vent will funnel the excess outside. The garden tends to hold its heat. Hopefully, we will have returned before it cools too much. It has an automatic watering system. I never bothered with it since it wastes fuel, but it will be useful now.”
“That sounds good.”
Dorran took a breath. “We will not be able to leave tonight.”
Clare had to bite her tongue to stop herself from arguing with him. The ticking clock was incessant in the back of her head, and the idea of not moving that day seemed nightmarish. “We won’t?”
“I am sorry. I know time is pressing. But the day is nearly gone.” He nodded to the clock on the mantelpiece above them. It was past five. “The sun sets in an hour. It would be dark before we reach the car, and I need light to fit the motor. And we cannot even access the motor until the creatures leave the shed.”
“Okay.” It hurt to agree, but he was right. After an hour’s walk to the car, he would need who knew how long to get the motor working, never mind the time spent preparing the garden and packing. There was no way to get it all done before nightfall… and they were still waiting for the hollows to leave the barn. She forced herself to smile. “First thing tomorrow?”
“That is my plan. Tonight, we will gather supplies and rest as much as possible. We will need the energy for the trip.”
They went through the house together, collecting everything they would need and packing it into one of Clare’s travel cases. They brought the final two fencing masks from Eros’s room: one for Beth and one spare. They also packed tins of food that didn’t need to be cooked, two containers of petrol plundered from the generator, and spare clothes. Last was an assortment of weapons: kitchen knives, an axe, and the fire poker Clare had become so used to over the previous weeks.
Once they had the essentials, they debated over which other items might be useful to bring. Toothbrushes and soap. The first aid kit, filled with antiseptic, bandages, and painkillers. Rope. Matches and candles. Batteries. Two thick quilts.
There were a multitude of other items that could have come in handy: the lamp, saws, shovels, and more protective gear. But even though the car could have carried it all, the sled’s capacity was limited. Every item they brought had to be weighed up compared to its peers. They briefly discussed the possibility of making two trips from the house to the car but agreed that just one was risky enough. Clare was relieved. She didn’t like the idea of delaying their morning two hours longer than they needed to.
They laid the equipment out on the foyer’s tables. The melting snow bled through under the door, creating a shallow pool of water that spread across the tiles. Clare’s boots were leather and protected against the water, but she still splashed with every step. She felt like she’d fallen back in time to when Beth had let her jump in puddles at the park. The memory made her smile. Then reality pushed its way back in, and the happiness faded.
Please hold on, Beth. Wait just one more day.
It was growing late by the time they finished their preparations. Even though outside was warming, a chill clung to the house, and Clare was very ready to retreat to the heated bedroom. They stopped by the kitchen first to cook dinner. They would need energy for the trip and didn’t know how many chances they might have to eat on the road.
Back in their room, Clare savoured the bowl of warm rice and thick meat stew. She was acutely aware of how quickly the following morning was approaching. If the plan went wrong, it would be her last night in Winterbourne. She was surprised to realise she would actually miss the place. Its ornate decorations and dim lights had never seemed very welcoming, but as she looked around the room, she realised she’d somehow grown to appreciate it, as if it were a snappish aunt who was just barely quirky enough to be remembered fondly.
Dorran had washed the blood off his face, but the cuts still looked red and painful. She put her empty bowl aside as she went to fetch water from the bathroom. Dorran didn’t question her as she heated it over the fire, but he watched her curiously. She beckoned for him to come and sit with her. “Let me have a look at those cuts.”
“They are not bothering me.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She beckoned again. “Come and let me look after you.”
He slid out of the chair to sit next to her on the rug, and Clare gently pulled him down so that his head rested on her lap.
“There.” She brushed his hair away from his face, and he closed his eyes. The barbed wire hadn’t been kind to him. It had nicked his ear and left two more marks across his forehead. She dipped the cloth into the hot water and dabbed the highest scab. His eyebrows twitched, but the rest of his expression stayed serene.
“Okay?” Clare asked.
“Hm. Good.”
He’s starting to trust me more. She dabbed gently, cleaning the cuts, and thrilled to see how he gradually relaxed. Dark lashes grazed his high cheekbones as she ran her fingers through his hair.
“You’re beautiful,” Clare whispered. She’d thought it secretly a dozen times over the past week but had never said it out loud.
Dorran’s eyes opened, then he burst into cackling laughter.
“What?” Clare felt heat rise over her cheeks, but at the same time, his laughter was so infectious that she couldn’t stop herself from joining in. “What? Don’t laugh! I’m serious!”