I’m not sure I’ll notice when it’s healed. My mind seems permanently foggy these days. Think Claire, think.
And then it came to her. She remembered reading in the hostel notes that it was close to the train station. It seemed crazy taking the train when she had a car but it would be nice to leave the Skoda behind for a while and pretend to be a normal person again.
The walk improved Claire’s mood and she was almost smiling by the time her iPad told her she had arrived at the train station. She stared at the dirty-white temporary buildings and the single railway line.
Train station is a bit of an overstatement. Bugger. God knows when the next train will chug through here. They’re probably still run by steam.
As she thought the words she heard the unmistakeable sound of an approaching train. Stuffing her iPad into her bag she ran for the platform just as a two-carriage train pulled in with a whoosh of brakes. Claire tugged open the door to the nearest carriage and jumped on board. A dozen calmly-seated suits turned to stare as Claire tumbled into the carriage, red-faced and panting. She smiled automatically and slid into the nearest seat, eager to hide her rosy face.
With a jolt the train pulled away and Claire prayed it was actually heading for Sheffield and not Manchester. Please don’t let me end up there today. I’m bound to bump into someone I know and I look like something the cat threw up.
She pulled her fingers through her tangled hair, wishing she had taken time to shower and dress properly. There had been only one thought on her mind as she left the hostel and that was to get a new phone.
Outside the window trees and fields flew past, before they passed through Grindleford station and disappeared into a tunnel. Claire stared at her reflection in the dark window and wondered when she had stopped wearing make-up. I guess it doesn’t matter if we are headed for Manchester: I don’t suppose anyone would recognise me.
The train emerged from the tunnel into a grey landscape and her image vanished. A voice echoed down the train calling for tickets. Claire dug in her handbag for her purse, feeling her heart thudding against her ribs. I’ve never boarded a train without a ticket before. I hope he’ll let me buy one and not make a fuss. She felt the heat return to her cheeks and wondered if it would have been less stressful to wake a hostel full of people to ask someone to move their car.
Why is nothing ever easy?
***
TWENTY-TWO
Claire looked up the location of the hostel she’d just booked and swore. “That’s miles from Hathersage and I’ve still got to go back for the bloody car. Stupid YHA and their stupid school trips.”
She’d been phoning round the hostels for twenty minutes while waiting for the train home, her new phone sitting happy in her hand. It turned out that several of the Peak District hostels were only open at weekends and during the school holidays for non-school visitors. Not that I really want to stay with a bunch of school kids anyway. Eventually she’d found a hostel near Bakewell that had beds free.
I’m not sure I like the name Youlgreave. That sounds prophetic. What’s going to happen to me there? I’ve already been half-frozen, lost, wedged in a rock and mugged since I started on this trip.
Something about the words you’ll grieve made her think of Ruth. I haven’t called since last week. I’d best make sure everything is okay and Sky is happy to come on the road with me.
She pulled out her new phone, smiling at the unscratched screen and brand new cover. Then she remembered she had no idea what Ruth’s phone number was. With a sigh she delved in her bag for her iPad. I really should memorise some numbers. What if they’d taken my iPad too? I’d be buggered. I barely know my own number.
Eventually she located her sister’s number and was able to call.
“Hello, Sky speaking.”
“Hello Sky, it’s Auntie Claire.” She was about to ask to speak to Ruth when she realised she’d have to talk to her niece at some point. “Um. How are you?”
“Auntie Claire! Mummy’s poorly and Nana is looking after me. She picked me up from school today. We did numbers and PE and I learned how to do a cartwheel and then Susie was mean to me but we made up. And Nana let me buy a cake on the way home to cheer Mummy up because she’s sad. Mummy says you’re taking me to the seaside! When are you coming, is it tomorrow?”
Claire held the phone away from her ear and tried to follow the rapid-fire monologue, wondering which bits she was meant to respond to. She figured the last question would be enough.
“Friday. I’ll be there on Friday Sky.”
“Yippee. I can’t wait. It’s going to be so much fun. Will you paint my nails and do my make-up? Pleeeaasse?”
“Er, sure. Yes. We can do that.” Claire thought about her make-up bag. It must be in my rucksack somewhere. I don’t remember leaving it behind. She made a mental note to buy some child-friendly products before she got to Cambridgeshire.
“Is your Mummy there, Sky?” She held the phone further away from her ear as her niece yelled “Mummy!” She heard the phone clunk, followed by the sound of running. I feel bad for disturbing her now. Maybe I should have called Mum instead, although it sounds like she’s probably there too. A shard of guilt stabbed in Claire’s chest at the thought of her mother looking after Ruth while she swanned around taking pictures and writing for the blog. Not to mention getting mugged and sleeping in noisy rooms with total strangers.
The phone clicked and there was a shuffling noise. “Claire?”
Ice slid into Claire’s stomach at the sound of her sister’s voice. She sounded twenty years older. It has been only a few days? I haven’t disappeared into some new time zone out here in the sticks?
“Ruth? How are you?” She tried to make her voice cheerful but she could hear the wobble.
A low chuckle came down the line. “I’ve been better. I’m glad you’re taking Sky. I’m going to miss her, but I need some quiet. She tries, but her nursing me is worse than her being normal.” The words came slowly, like each one needed to rise to the surface before it could be pushed down the phone-line.
“It’s the least I can do. Look do you want me to come before Friday? Give you and Mum a break?”
“No. It’s fine. I think Mum’s enjoying it in a strange way. It’s giving her so much to be a martyr about. Actually.” There was a pause. “Could you come on Thursday? Sky will be off-the-wall hyper when she finishes school. I’m not sure I can bear it. You can stay here the night if you don’t mind the sofa.”
Claire quickly tried to evaluate which would be worse, staying in the Cambridge hostel with a small child or kipping on her sister’s couch. It might be nice to spend a night away from the hostels. Carl didn’t need to know.
“Sure sis, I’ll come Thursday. I can collect Sky from school.”
“Okay.” The phone went silent. Claire didn’t want to hang up. The words you’ll grieve thrummed in her mind. But it was clear her sister was exhausted.
“Great. I’ll see you then. And sis… take care.”
***
TWENTY-THREE
Youlgreave turned out to be a cheery little hostel with spacious rooms and a homely feel. The bunks had individual lights and Claire curled into the corner of hers as a mouse might his winter nest. She pulled a paperback from her bag - one of several she had treated herself to at Sheffield station - and let the world slide away.
After what felt like minutes, but was nearer to an hour, her phone chimed to say the sync was complete. Claire sighed and put down the book, her mind still caught up in a world of Games and tributes. She opened her email and scanned the list, hoping for nothing new. When she saw the email from Julia she had to stop herself launching her new phone out the window. I’d forgotten about the bloody challenges. Don’t let a mugging stop you Julia, you carry on regardless, heartless cow.
Reading the email, Claire felt her lungs fill with anger. Callous bitch.
Claire
I heard about the accident. If you will wander round like a hoyden, these
things will happen. Carl said if anything was stolen you will need to claim on your own insurance due to the event occurring outside office hours.
Please find below your task for this week. As you only saw fit to undertake one activity from my previous list I have not researched any more than this.
Your next assignment will be sent on Thursday owing to the office being closed for the Easter weekend. Carl asked me to inform you that you are still expected to stay in hostels over the bank holiday.
Julia
https://www.peakhanggliding.co.uk/
Claire didn’t need to open the link to discover what Julia’s maliciousness had concocted for her. The bitch knows I’m scared of heights. Hang-gliding? She has to be kidding. I’m almost impressed that they want me to resign this badly. Well tough.
She laughed, her eyes crinkling in mischief. Pulling out an envelope from her bag she retrieved the letter inside and smoothed it flat, before taking a picture with the iPad.
Dear Julia
Please find attached the Doctor’s Note I received, following the severe physical attack I suffered while working for your organisation. I have been advised to avoid any activity which may result in a worsening of my condition. I am sorry to inform you that I am certain Hang-Gliding will fall under that category.
I will notify you when the doctor deems me fit for physical exertion. Until then I will continue in my assignment to the best of my ability.
Kindest regards
Claire
Claire stroked the Doctor’s Note before slotting it into the back of her paperback. Best forty-pounds ever spent. Then she tucked her phone and tablet back into her rucksack and curled up in the corner of her bunk, feeling as if she had done Katniss proud in her skirmish with Julia.
***
TWENTY-FOUR
“Checking out please.”
The man behind the desk looked up from his paper and smiled. “I wouldn’t love. Have yer looked outside this morning?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Heavy snow overnight. Roads are going to be murder. Best stay put for a night or two, wait fer it to clear. Happen it’ll be gone by Friday.”
“Friday? I have to be in Cambridgeshire by Thursday afternoon.” Claire felt fear twist in her gut. Ruth will kill me if I’m not there to pick Sky up after school finishes.
The man laughed, not unkindly but with genuine humour. “You’ll be lucky lass, unless that’s a flying car you’re holding the keys to.”
Claire thought about the Skoda parked out on the street. “Not flying, no, but it is Eastern European. It’s pretty handy at starting in bad weather.”
“Skoda is it? The little brown one? Starting’s not your problem. You’ll dance your rear-end into a hedge driving that, even with bricks under the bonnet. You got ballast?”
Not wanting to admit she had no idea what he was talking about, Claire pulled out her iPad and did a quick online search.
“Would I make it to Hartington Hall do you think?”
The man frowned, as if questioning why she wanted to leave.
“Oh, no,” Claire interjected swiftly. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve loved staying here. It’s just I only have a year to stay in all the YHA hostels and so far I’ve only managed twenty. I’m about to spend two weeks in just four or five hostels and it will put me way behind. I might get fired.” The words spilled out unstoppable and Claire felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
“Weeeell,” the man drew out the sound as he considered the barrage of words. “It’s nobbut eight miles from here but I couldn’t say if she’ll be passable. Gritter’s not been through, not that she’d have been much use. And they ’aint going to plough the back roads.” He stopped, seeming to register Claire’s disappointment. “Though the five-one-five will be clear. Shall I ring t’Hall, see what they think?”
Claire nodded and tried not to care about the look on the man’s face that suggested he feared for her sanity. Never mind that, I fear for my sanity. But I can’t be holed up in this tiny hostel for days. If I must be stuck I may as well tick another off the list. And Hartington Hall sounds like it might be less cabin-fever-inducing.
The man hung up the phone and faced Claire, his brows contracted. “Well, they’ve room and their roads ’aint too bad, but I still reckon you’re crazy to drive that tiny tub of yours in this muck.”
Claire remembered the last time she’d battled through the snow, on her way to Byrness, and wondered if she should just go back to bed. Her book called from deep in the rucksack and she could almost taste hot Earl Grey. As if sensing her wavering the man behind the desk shone a kindly smile. “Shall I just check you in for another night? We have room.”
Something about his face set Claire’s hackles rising. “No. I will not be defeated by the weather. Book me in to Hartington Hall. I’ll get there if I have to walk.”
***
TWENTY-FIVE
Claire looked at the looming snowdrift crowding the road ahead. The snow pushed through winter hedgerows like marshmallows caught in a giant’s teeth. Snow in Manchester was grey and wet, like dirty slush-puppy. She’d never understood how a few inches of snow could bring the whole damn country to a halt. Now, seeing how the wind had whipped the snow ahead of it like a pack of huskies, until it buried most of the country lane, Claire understood how people became trapped in their cars. And died.
“Come on Stella, keep going. It can’t be much further.”
She had been driving for an hour since leaving Youlgreave hostel, against the advice of the hostel manager who clearly thought she was nuts.
I think he might be right. This wasn’t my cleverest idea. I don’t even have a blanket in the car, never mind a flask of tea or a shovel. I’m guessing this doesn’t count as an ‘essential journey’ although the police who advise against non-essential travel are never specific.
Thoughts twisted through Claire’s mind like eddies of snow as she concentrated on the half-concealed road ahead. Her eyes itched and she needed a wee but she suspected if she stopped the car it would refuse to start again.
I do not want to walk anywhere in this weather. Especially not with my rucksack.
It felt as if the landscape was closing in around her but it was hard to tell with the world turned to white. The first stretch of road had been flat and exposed and she prayed that rising hills meant the hostel was somewhere up ahead. Trees draped over the road, their branches bare and stark against the white sky. Claire felt as if she was driving through a tunnel. I really hope there’s a light at the end of it. And a steaming mug of Earl Grey.
At last a house materialised out of the white and Claire felt the knot in her stomach ease slightly. The need to pee took over. Driving into the village the road was clearer; more slush than snow. Claire considered abandoning the car and walking the rest of the way to the hostel but she was sure the cold air would enhance the call of nature. I’m damned if I’m going to squat for a pee in a snowdrift.
Stella the Skoda slipped and span on the slushy road, the back end swinging out towards parked cars. Knuckles white and brow furrowed, Claire wished she was back in her bunk reading Hunger Games rather than living her own adventure. Not that negotiating parked cars in the snow is really the same as fighting for your life against your fellow man. Well, only a little bit.
Eventually the Hall came into view. Claire had no time to marvel at the stately building tucked in amid the snow-laden trees. She slid the car into what she hoped was a parking place and scrambled out. Not waiting to retrieve her bag she scuttled into reception and searched for a sign. When she couldn't see one she felt a flutter under her ribs. Come on, come on.
A head popped up from behind the desk and a smile greeted her pained expression.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, toilets please?”
With a bemused smile the woman pointed to a door round the corner and Claire fled.
***
TWENTY-SIX
The royal-blue carpet gav
e Claire a headache, but the wood-burner offered too much welcome warmth to be ignored. She shifted her position on the sofa, minimising the amount of iridescent flooring visible above the pages of her book. Outside the window, snowflakes swirled and danced like winter sprites.
Not fancying the drive to Cambridge on Thursday if this keeps up. She wondered if there was a train. Maybe she could hire a car and come back for the Skoda after Easter. Sky would probably rather be in a comfortable car, instead of my mucky-brown rust bucket. Closing her eyes, Claire tried to remember what car her parents had owned when she was six and whether she’d cared. She realised she couldn’t picture any memories from her early childhood. Maybe I’m still concussed. It wasn’t that long ago; twenty years. And a bit, her brain added. What car would my parents have driven? They didn’t have Chelsea Tractors back then.
Claire shrugged off the thought and returned to her book. She could feel the story building tension, through her shallow breaths and the pain as she chewed the inside of her cheeks. The novel wasn’t her normal chick lit fare and she was surprised at how involved she had become in Katniss and Peeta’s lives.
The sound of chattering children skipped through the door and Claire sighed. Generally youngsters added life and colour to the hostels but it was impossible to read with their penetrating babble -- designed to permeate a parent’s brain at twenty paces. It didn’t sound like a school party; the voices were too shrill and too few. She peeked over the paperback and saw two children lurking in the doorway. They were younger than Sky but not babies or toddlers. Claire had no idea how you guessed what age a child was. Somewhere between 2 and 6 at any rate. She smiled at them and dropped her eyes back to the page.