The Wolf Spinner

The wind screamed, and the rain drummed a heavy metal tune on top of the Landrover. It was making more noise than the classical music coming from the radio. The weather was frightening, Saffron Talbot wanted to be inside, warm in the cottage. This road didn’t even have streetlights, not that she would have been able to see them because of the branches of the trees bending so low. Saffron leaned forward, clutching the steering wheel. She looked at her phone stuck to the windscreen. Was Doris the Sat Nav sending her in the right direction? Doris had been quiet for the last few miles. Her phone screen was black, no internet, no 4G, no nothing.

“Great.”

The road was straight, no turn offs she could see in the next ten yards, her headlights illuminated. Saffron turned the radio up all she could do was carry on and hope that the tree roots were long and well established. She was humming along to Beethoven’s 7th Symphony when right in front of her something shot across the road.

“Wow! What the hell…”

Saffron slammed the brakes on. Was it a deer, poor thing she would have to see if it was okay? Saffron looked in the rear-view mirror and she saw something on the verge. She reversed the vehicle and pulled up in front of the animal. She got out and grabbed the torch from the door. The rain would turn her into a drowned rat in seconds as the rain pounded into her as she struggled in the wind to reach the back of the Landrover.

Saffron gasped, “Oh my God!” she looked at the naked man laying on the grass, the rain and his blood mingling and running down his face and into his thick stubble. She opened the back of the car and grabbed a blanket to cover him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, I’ll get my phone and call an ambulance,”

“No, no ambulance,” he gasped. She was already on the way to the front of the car, grabbing her phone and running back to him. Except… He wasn’t there. Not even a mark of where he had been on the wet grass. Although, he seemed to have taken her blanket with him.

The rain made black rat’s tails of Saffron’s hair. She shook her head she did not know what was going on, and she was so puzzled by what she had seen that her abilities had not kicked in. It was shocking to see anybody out in this weather, but a naked man running in the forest?

“Saffy, you are losing your mind, you’ve driven a long way, you’re tired, and now you are soaking through to your skin,” she muttered.

She thought about the man, but there was no feeling inside her. That was impossible. She could feel everyone’s emotions. She had met no one who could lock their feelings away from her. Her jeans were now soggy as she sat in the driving seat again and she wished that she had stayed at the inn she had passed a while back. Her late grandmother’s cottage could not be much further.

“Come on Doris, do your stuff.” Saffy peered through the windscreen. It looked as if the rain had stopped and the sky was blazing with stars. Doris kicked into life and instructed Saffron to drive for one hundred metres. Turn right and you have reached your destination.

The cottage, when Saffy pulled up, was dark, thatched, and she was sure that if she stood on tiptoe, she could reach the windowsill of the bedrooms. She had never been here to see her grandmother. Saffy’s mum had argued with her Gran, and even though Saffy had never even met her grandmother, she had left everything to her.

Saffron parked the Landrover at the side of the cottage and pulled her phone from the sucker on the windscreen. She grabbed her bag and peeled her wet jeans from the seat. Standing by the car Saffron looked at the chocolate-box-pretty cottage. The sky lightened for a moment and Saffron swayed and grabbed hold of the car handle. God, was she that tired? The cottage seemed to move too as if in a heat mirage, like when you’re driving on a hot day and the road in front seems half disappear. The front door was at the side of the house, with its own little thatched roof. There was a small square window in the white-painted door. Picking a key from the bundle on the keyring, she tried it in the lock. The door was stuck, stiff because of the rain, and Saffron pushed it hard.

The first thing Saffron noticed when she went inside the house was the smell. The house smelled like a garden. She could smell flowers, Pinks, Jasmine, and fresh greenery, and that was just in the hallway. That was odd, thought Saffy. They had locked the cottage up a year ago, well, the solicitors had, and as far as she knew no one had been in it since. Was the smell coming from one of those plug-in air fresheners? Saffron looked around. She couldn’t see one anywhere. Dropping her bag at the bottom of the stairs, she walked down the hallway to the closed door at the end. It was warm in the house as if the radiators had been on for days. The gas bill would be enormous.

Saffron opened the door at the end of the hall. That was strange. The table lamps were on, casting a beautiful golden glow over the room, and the smell, Sweetpeas, and freesia. The room was idyllic, Saffy imagined she would have to decorate, but the room was photoshoot ready. Decorated in cream and blue with what looked like the antique furniture that she loved. The kitchen smelled of lemon; it was fresh and perfectly clean.

There were two doors at the end of the kitchen, one was the laundry room but the other was something that surprised Saffron. The walls had open shelves, and they held hundreds of bottles of all different sizes. On another wall were piles of ledgers and books labelled Illness, Truth, Lies, and Love. Hanging from the ceiling were bunches of herbs and other plants, bunches of feathers, and… What was that Saffy squinted at the ceiling, bunches of tied fur? Laughing inside, she would no doubt find a cauldron and a jar of frog’s legs in a minute.

Saffron shook her head. She was too tired to look at this and make any sense out of it. As she walked out of the room, she knocked a bottle off the shelf; it was only a small bottle, and it smashed on the red-tiled floor. Heaving a sigh, she left it until tomorrow. The warmth of the cottage was making her sleepy, so sleepy.

Saffron hardly remembered going up the rickety stairs to the bedroom. When she opened the door, the lavender smell filled her nose, and she was asleep before her head touched the soft feather pillow. Saffron awoke when the birds outside the window chirped loudly enough to wake her up. She pulled the hand made quilt over her head, and she closed her eyes intending to sleep again. But a tendril of excitement was curling in her belly. She was in her new home, away from the millions of people in London. A place where she had to wear headphones and the darkest sunglasses she could find, to not feel the emotions of all the people she walked past. Not to mention the ones she sat opposite on the Tube. There were no people here, only birds and small furry animals the only emotion they felt was where was the next meal coming from.

There was a bluetit tapping against the window, “Bloody hell, you’re worse than an alarm clock, hang on, I’m sure I saw some bird food in the kitchen.” Saffy found the bag of bird seeds, but before she went back upstairs, she couldn’t resist looking into the strange room. Oh, and she had to clean that bottle up. She found a dustpan and a brush and opened the door, expecting to find glass on the floor. Hang on a minute. She wasn’t dreaming. She knocked the bottle over and there was a space on the shelf, and the smashed bottle should be on the floor. The shelf was full, and there was no glass on the floor or liquid that had spilt out of it. Saffy walked further into the room. There was a piece of paper on the large oak table. That definitely hadn’t been there last night. She picked it up and then dropped it quickly. It fell with the writing face up. Please be careful with the jars, Saffy dear, I’m so glad you are here. Love Granny.