T A Williams - What Happens In Cornwall...

‘I… I was out in a kayak.’ Samantha’s words came out very slowly and her voice sounded to her like it belonged to somebody else. She did her best to summon what residual energy remained in her exhausted body and attempt an explanation. ‘It was the mist. I couldn’t see. I’m afraid I got lost. I was being washed out to sea…’ Her voice tailed off.

‘You look cold.’ His expression changed from suspicion to something else. Maybe relief. He hesitated for a moment before coming to a decision. ‘You’d better come in. Come along now.’ He stepped to one side and waved her into the lift.

‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Samantha could hardly recognise her own voice. She was trembling so violently by now that she bit her lip as she spoke and tasted blood in her mouth. She staggered forward into the lift and the man followed her in. She watched as the doors closed and the sound of the waves and the gulls was suddenly extinguished. A sign on the wall indicated that the lift had only been installed a few months earlier. Indeed, it was so smooth that they could barely get any sense of movement as it climbed. After only a few seconds the doors hissed open and she gazed wearily out. She caught the man’s eye.

‘Where are we, please? What is this place?’

‘This is the Abbey of Saint Bernard on Rock Island. Where have you come from? Tregossick?’ She nodded mutely, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Her fingers felt so cold against her face, they could have belonged to somebody else. The man stepped out and led her to a bench against the wall. His expression had softened and, while not yet friendly, was at least more welcoming. ‘I’ll have to ask you to wait here for a moment, while I go and speak to the owner. Here,’ He pulled a bulky jacket off a hook by the lift door and handed it to her. ‘Put this on. You look frozen stiff.’

He walked across to another lift, this time a futuristic glass bubble in one corner of the huge entrance hall in which Sam now found herself. As he stepped in and the lift doors closed, Samantha covered her shoulders with the jacket, slumped down on the bench and looked around. It was an awesome place and very, very ancient. The hall was huge, dark and hung with flags and tapestries. The ceiling was immensely high and she found herself looking up at the underside of the lift way up above her. It was like being inside an empty tower. The floor was made of flagstones, polished and worn by the passage of countless feet over the centuries. It was truly spectacular.

For a moment she had a vision of Dracula’s castle from an old horror film and it suddenly occurred to her that here she was, a girl on her own, in bizarre surroundings. And, she realised, as a wave of fear threatened to overwhelm her again, nobody knew she was here. In spite of her exhausted state, she was wondering whether to head back down and take her chances in the sea when the glass lift began its downward journey. As it reached the floor, she breathed a sigh of relief. There was a woman in it.

The doors opened and a dark-haired woman came out, accompanied by a young black Labrador. While the dog rushed over to make a fuss of the visitor, the woman stopped and took a good look at Sam’s bedraggled state. ‘Hello. It certainly looks like you could do with some help.’ She sounded very concerned for Sam’s wellbeing, and all Sam could do was nod forlornly. She looked up and caught the other woman’s eye. She read sympathy and the same air of relief she had read on the man’s face. It was as if they had been expecting an unwelcome guest and were pleased to find that their visitor was nothing more than a shipwrecked sailor.

Even through her weariness, Sam couldn’t help noticing what perfect teeth and skin she had, even though most of her was hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed sunglasses and a mass of hair. ‘Here, come up with me and we’ll sort you out.’ The woman extended her hand and Sam followed her into the lift, the excited dog licking her fingers as he pushed in alongside them.

The lift rose silently to the gallery that circled round at high level. As they stepped out, Sam could see that the floor of the hall was now far below. The woman led her through a doorway into another massive room. It was magnificent, with rows of arched windows, some with stained glass that Sam, even in her numb state, recognised as clearly medieval. The walls were covered in tapestries, paintings and sculptures. The room was furnished with armchairs, sofas and low tables. A girl, dressed in a maid’s uniform, was on her knees at the enormous fireplace.

‘Tracey’s lighting the fire. We’ll soon have you warm.’ Samantha realised she had blundered into an environment very different to her own cramped flat with its piles of unwashed dishes. The dark-haired woman nodded approvingly at the maid by the fire. ‘Excellent, Tracey, thank you.’ She turned to Sam. ‘Now, if you want to get out of those wet clothes, I’ll go and find you some dry ones. You’re about my size so some of my things should be OK. Here, for the moment, wrap yourself in this.’ She pulled a tartan blanket off one of the sofas and handed it to Samantha before disappearing through a door at the end of the room. The young dog looked round uncertainly and then headed after her.

Samantha did as she was bidden and wrapped herself in the plaid. She couldn’t feel her fingers or her toes, but at least the shivering gradually stopped. The fire crackled as the kindling caught and by the time the black-haired woman came back, Samantha was beginning to thaw out a little. This time the woman in the dark glasses was accompanied by another maid, carrying an armful of clothes. ‘I think it would probably be a very good idea of you had a bath or a hot shower, you know. You’re still shivering, although maybe not so much as before, and the hot water should raise your body temperature. Julie, show this young lady to a bathroom, would you.’

Fifteen minutes later, Samantha emerged from the bathroom, feeling like a different person. She could feel her skin glowing as the heat of the shower had restored her to a more normal temperature once again. The clothes she had been given were an excellent fit, including some super soft leather pumps. Even through her exhaustion, Sam had noticed the designer labels on the jeans and the jumper. Even the underwear was Dior!

‘Hi, you’re looking better now. Come over here to the fire. Would you like some tea or maybe some hot chocolate?’ The woman with the black hair called her across and Sam came and stood in front of what had turned into a roaring fire, the heat reaching through the jeans to the backs of her legs.

‘Um, a cup of tea would be great, please.’ Sam was feeling quite overcome by this stage. She had never seen a place like this before. It was a riot of leather furnishings, polished wood and remarkable antiques. If the pair of china dogs on the mantelpiece were authentic, they were probably worth more than Sam’s whole wardrobe. In fact, she thought to herself, the clothes she was now wearing were probably worth almost as much.

The tea arrived very quickly, brought in on a massive tray by a young male waiter. Along with the tea was a huge chunk of freshly-baked sponge cake. The Labrador flopped down on the floor beside Sam’s legs, his eyes trained on the cake dish. Samantha sat down on the sofa and sipped her tea, glad to be here, glad to be alive and very, very grateful. She cleared her throat. ‘I can’t thank you enough for helping me. I’m so terribly sorry to put you to all this trouble. You see, I’m afraid I’ve just been really, really stupid. I set out in the kayak without telling anybody where I was going and I foolishly strayed too far out from the shore.’ She paused as the memory of her ordeal threatened to overwhelm her. She cleared her throat, finding it hard to go on. ‘And then I got into a really strong current.’ She couldn’t help herself, she suddenly burst into tears. With an effort, she rubbed her hands across her eyes and explained. ‘I’m sorry… I suppose it’s just the relief…’