An Angel's Work by Kate Eastham

Author:Kate Eastham [Eastham, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800190740
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-10-20T23:00:00+00:00

Mac woke gasping – it was black, she was falling. She sat up in bed, struggling to make sense of where she was. In the pale light coming through the window, she could see flowered wallpaper. She felt restless and irritated; she was sure that she should know this place…

Slipping her legs over the side of the bed, the cool of the wooden floor on the soles of her feet was pleasant. When she stood, the long nightgown that she was wearing fell softly around her legs. She looked down at it; it was bright white and came right up to her neck in a ruffle. Just for a second, she panicked. Could it be a shroud? Was she dead? Steady on, she thought, feeling at her arms through the fabric of the long, lace-trimmed sleeves. Her body was warm and she was breathing. She took an extra deep breath just to check.

And this room, it did seem familiar… She opened the door, and the brass thumb latch gave a satisfying click. Creaking her way down the wooden stairs, she opened the door at the bottom and then she was lost. Just as she was about to go back up the stairs, she saw another door, she pushed it open to find some coats hanging and boots on the floor. And when she opened the back door cool morning air caught her and she breathed it in, filling her lungs – wherever this was, it smelt fresh. She walked out onto stone cobbles, her bare feet slipping on the dewy wetness. She could hear cows mooing and then a dog was barking fiercely. She stopped, not wanting to go further, needing to turn around. As she walked back towards the door it opened and a broad-shouldered woman in leather boots and a rough apron carrying a bucket appeared. The woman said, ‘You’re still in your nightie,’ and then she started to laugh – a deep, throaty laugh – and in that moment something clicked inside Mac’s head. It was Jean – it was Jo’s mum.

‘Where’s Jo?’ she said, aware now that she was out on the cold stones in her bare feet with a cool, morning breeze ruffling her thin cotton nightie.

‘She’ll still be tucked up asleep on the floor by the side of your bed, you must have come straight past her,’ Jean said, putting down her bucket and leading her back inside. ‘I’ve just lit the stove; let’s get you a cup of tea. You look a real sight in your night attire with that bandage round your head… Come on, I’ll make you some toast.’

As soon as she smelt the food in the kitchen, Mac’s stomach rumbled; she was so hungry, she probably could have eaten the whole loaf. When Jo emerged, also in bare feet, her eyes round with concern, it was easy for Mac to smile and pat the chair next to her. ‘Come on, Jojo, come and have some toast with me. Tell me what’s been going on?’

She could see that Jo was starting to cry and it worried her.

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