The Girl Who Wasn't There Ch. 05

"No!" I yell. He looks back at my shout and stumbles: his head crashes heavily into the bathroom doorframe and he slumps to the ground, leaving a long, bloody streak down the white woodwork.

In the sudden silence my rapid breathing is loud. "Freja! It's me, come out!" I call.

The bathroom door opens wider and there is my darling, pale and terrified and crying. She looks in horror at the man crumpled in the doorway and steps over him gingerly. She receives another shock seeing the body in the corridor, blood pooling on the floor under his chest.

I wrap my arms around her, trying to still her trembling, letting her share my feelings of protectiveness and determination as our breathing steadies. "What happened?" she asks.

"Fear. I used ESM to fill him full of fear." I point to the man by the bathroom. "He shot the other guy because he was so afraid, I guess. Then he tried to run into the bathroom - and missed." I find I cannot help giggling in the aftermath of the terror I've been through. I kiss her hair. "Come on," I tell her, "there'll be at least one more, according to Tanya. We need to hurry." I slip the laptop and files into the larger rucksack and we grab jackets, helmets and gloves. At the last minute I notice the pentagram pendent Freja gave me sitting on the bedside table. I grab it and put it on, tucking it into my collar and resolving never to take it off again until we are safe.

We make our way quietly and stealthily to the car park, to the corner where my bike is parked. To our relief, there is no one there so I fasten one rucksack to the back of the bike while Freja wears the other and we climb aboard. We are away, swiftly along the access road and out onto the highway.

We ride hard for half an hour or so; first on dual carriageway that I know has no cameras and allows us to make good speed and distance, then onto back roads. By then the adrenalin that has powered me for the last hour has gone and I'm left with a cold, sick, empty feeling.

I pull the bike over and turn off the engine and pull off my helmet. I sit there, tears streaming and my breath coming in huge, sobbing gasps. Freja climbs off the bike and stands beside me, wrapping her arms around me. "What's the matter my darling?" she asks, her face full of concern and fear at my emotion.

"I killed them, Freja. It's my fault: my ESM killed them both." I sob uncontrollably and Freja holds me tightly.

"Nay, 'twas not your fault my love. Ye did nay make him shoot his mate, nor brain himsel' on the door jamb. 'Twas accidental and," she hugs me tighter, "to protect me!" I am grateful for her words but cannot rid myself of the guilt I feel.

"So much for 'an harm it none'. What would the Goddess say about what I've done?" my sobbing has eased but tears still flow.

"She would understand ye were trying to protect me, us. Ye tried to make the man run, but he responded with violence. Violent men meet violent ends, it's as the threefold law warns: what we do comes back to us threefold." She raises my chin and kisses me; I hesitate and then start to kiss back. I slip my arm around her and my hand cups and squeezes her arse cheek.

Freja takes my hand and leads me from the bike onto the grass beside the road and we duck under the low hanging branches of an evergreen. She pulls me down onto the grass and we kiss fervently. Part of me knows that this, too, is a reaction to what we've just been through but I don't care: better this than the tears and sobbing.

Our hands slip under clothes, seeking the soft, warm flesh beneath, as we grind our pussies against each other through jeans. I am desperate for the release. I feel her mounting excitement but am shocked when, almost without warning, my own orgasm strikes: it is intense and short, a jolt through my body. I feel Freja's own orgasm build as mine is waning. Brief as it was I feel calm and at peace, whole once again as I hold Freja tightly while she climaxes.

We lie, huddled together but the cold starts to get to us and we return to the bike. "Where do we go, Ginny?"

"I don't know - away from the University is the most important at the moment. I guess we keep moving until we find somewhere we can be safe. But wherever, we'll be together my love."

"Aye, anywhere's fine by me, as long as it's where ye are!" She kisses me and we mount the bike again, donning our helmets. I kick the engine back into life and we head into the night and out future together.

++++++++++++++++++

I sit back, looking at the finished writing. The end and yet not: we are still heading into the night but, blessedly, still together. Eighteen months of stopping and moving on, of looking over our shoulders and worrying about tomorrow.

I've called Tanya a couple of times. The Department of Parapsychology has closed; neither she nor Wanda or Alex had the heart to continue the work after what happened. She now works in a college, teaching Psychology, and has a new girlfriend, Emma. I'm glad she's found someone she can trust after Marie's deception. Wanda has a daughter and is enjoying motherhood. She named the girl 'Freja' which deeply touched both of us.

Maybe, one day, we can all meet again.

++++++++++++++++++

EPILOGUE

It had been a happy fortnight until, during her lunchtime, Freja overheard someone in town asking about two girls on a motorbike who might be looking for casual work. That was enough and that same evening we were back on the road. We headed south-west; somewhat risky as that was heading back towards the University but we gave it, and the nearby towns, a wide birth.

We did get to visit Stonehenge though, which pleased Freja. However, she was disappointed that we couldn't walk amongst the stones, something that my Dad had told me people were allowed to do when he visited the monument as a boy. We arrived early, so it was quiet with few other visitors. It is an amazing place, primitive and otherworldly at the same time.

I don't know if our troubles have been the triple repayment for what we had to do to escape but, as Freja puts it, 'the Goddess and God have finally blessed us with protection'. Certainly, how we came here has the feel of a guiding power. However it is, I now sit and write more at peace than I have in many, many months.

As far as possible, we stuck to B roads and back roads, never using motorways and only travelling on A roads when there was no alternative. This helped us avoid the police in their cars and through their cameras. The downside was that it could be difficult finding petrol. And breaking down: a flat tyre on a motorbike and you're not going anywhere.

This flat tyre - courtesy of a twisted, barbed length of metal lying in the road that I didn't see in time - left us stranded on a country lane in the middle of nowhere. Okay, maybe not 'nowhere': in most of England, even rural England, it's difficult to be much more than 5 miles from some town, village or hamlet. The problem is knowing in which direction to go to find it, especially without satnav or a smartphone conveniently providing Google Maps. (Rule one of the fugitive handbook is, of course, 'don't carry a mobile phone unless you want to be found really fast!')

So when, hot and tired from pushing the bike, you find a slightly overgrown driveway that might lead to a farm or house, you choose that rather than the possible village that may or may not be in the direction you've chosen: at least they can give directions, if nothing else.

The drive was annoyingly long and winding, which meant that we were close to the house when we finally saw it. It was large, six or seven bedrooms at least by the look of it, and quite dilapidated. There were a few chickens wandering and scratching in the dirt in front of the house and what looked like a VW campervan rusting to oblivion in a drift of nettles off to one side. A fading sunflower was painted on the wall by the front door. As we approached we heard the faint sound of a guitar being strummed coming from within the building.

I put the bike on the side stand and we went to the door and knocked. There was no reply and I was about to knock again when a woman came round the outside of the house. She called to us in a gentle West Country accent, "Good day, travellers, and bright blessings. Are you lost?"

She was older, mid to late forties perhaps, with a lined, tanned face; she was dressed in a long blue skirt embroidered with flowers and a loose, long-sleeved cream blouse. "Our bike got a puncture," I explained, "and we happened to pass your driveway. I need to find a garage or a bike shop."

"I don't know 'bout that. Nate may know: he drives the car. Come in and you can ask him and have something to drink; you both look hot and tired. I'm Daisy-May, by the way." And with that she led us round the house to the kitchen.

Two hours later we were still there and had been introduced to six of the other residents by Daisy-May. They were all older men and women and just as warm, friendly and welcoming. She made us tea and fed us sandwiches. Now, as the shadows started to lengthen, she was pressing us to stay the night and share their evening meal. We'd been two days on the road and hadn't slept in a proper bed during that time so we didn't need much persuading. Later that evening she led us to a bedroom with a large double bed. I looked at her in surprise but she just replied saying, "I knows a couple when I sees 'em. You two are lovely together, bless you. Now, get some sleep." She kissed us each on the forehead and ushered us into the room.

Over breakfast the next morning we met the whole community, nine in all. All were friendly and accepting but none more so than Rosie-May and we found ourselves telling much of our story as the others left and just the three of us remained around the kitchen table. I think Freja had wondered from the moment we met Rosie-May but it wasn't until now that she started asking some questions.

They were a community that has chosen to live together. Some followed Wicca or paganism (that made Freja smile) while others had no particular religion. There had been more of them in the past, but people came and went. It had started about 25 years ago. I could feel Freja's mounting excitement and tried to project some calmness, wanting her to be ready for the disappointment that I felt was inevitable.

Yes, there were some who had lived here the whole time: Rosie-May herself, Nate, Dafydd and Shell. Yes, there had been a number of 17 or 18 year old girls over the years. Dawnbeak Sunchild? That sounded like the sort of names they'd used in the early years. Jack Mause... My chest had two heart beats - mine and the feeling of Freja's that she was projecting along with her excitement. Rosie-May wasn't sure so, when Dafydd happened to walk in, she asked him, making him stop and think.

"Jack Mause? Yes... short, dark haired chap. Bit of a bastard, I recall. Had a younger girl with him; they arrived together, like. Scottish she was. She started calling herself 'Dawnchild' or some such and then got pregnant, so she did. Do you remember, Rosie? And that Jack bloke buggered off an' left her. Sweet little baby it was too, but she left a few weeks after the birth. I don't know what happened to her, mind. Nor him for that matter."

Rosie-May was nodding and looking intently at Freja. She, meanwhile, was flooding me with such a mix of confusion, excitement and fear that I knew she probably couldn't begin to speak.

I slipped my arm around Freja's waist. "Dafydd, Rosie-May, I think you should meet Freja Mause: Dawnbreak's and Jack's daughter."

Rosie-May's face filled with wonder and happiness. "You were welcome as travellers, now you are doubly welcome as kin," she said as she came and embraced us both. "Welcome home, child, and you too Ginny."

- - - - - - - - - - -

We have now been living in the community for ten months and are very happy here. We share in their work and life here and the other members have become friends; it feels so peaceful and safe that I cannot see us leaving anytime soon. Last month, Rosie-May conducted a 'handholding' ceremony - a pagan wedding - for Freja and me where we jumped the broom together and pledged ourselves to each other 'for as long as love lasts'.

We both intend for that to be a very long time indeed.

+ THE END +