A walk in the woods….
A short story by Penny Mattocks

- Cornwall 2011 -

Angela pulled her fleece tighter around herself and shivered.  In spite of the sunshine, there was a stiff autumn breeze and the remnants of a clammy mist that seemed to cling to everything it touched.
She wished she hadn’t argued with Peter. She couldn’t even remember why they’d fallen out now – the details were hazy and forgotten.  ‘Both just overworked, overtired and grumpy!’ she said aloud to the empty air.  ‘A walk is just what I need to clear my head.’  She turned and looked at the small cottage with its small, square-paned, bay windows glinting in the morning sun.  They hadn’t been there long – she couldn’t quite recall why they’d moved out here to the middle of nowhere.  Probably Pete’s idea.
She sniffed the air and set off down the wooded lane that led away from the cottage.  Birds chattered loudly in the trees and a murder of crows cawed and cackled to each other overhead.  Their noisy activities heightened her irritability and she quickened her pace to leave it behind.  Gradually, the tree canopy thickened and the dappled sunlight grew sparser.  The heavy gloom was in stark contrast to the breezy sunshine she had set out in and did little to lighten her mood.  Even the birds’ chatter had all but disappeared with only the occasional ‘caw’ of a solitary crow to break the silence.  The first autumn leaves, stirred by a mischievous breeze, danced and chased each other along the lane ahead of her.  The occasional snapping of a twig in the undergrowth alongside the lane, suggested the scurrying of some woodland creature, busy with its winter preparations and oblivious to Angela and her concerns.
Suddenly, and with no warning Angela, was whirled around by a speeding cyclist, in full cycling gear and astride a razor-wheeled racing bike.  ‘Road hog!’ yelled Angela and received a cursory wave by way of apology from the cyclist.  ‘Some peace and quiet this is turning out to be!’ Angela muttered to herself, angrily resuming her pace.  She had just about got to a point where she felt relaxed and calm but now she felt her muscles tighten again in her cheek and the familiar dull ache of tension across her shoulders.  ‘Damn cyclists! Who do they think they are anyway?’  She continued along the lane, the disturbed leaves twirling before her feet.
The lane resumed its eerie gloom and Angela trudged along in silence, thoughts dancing around her brain like the fallen leaves around her.  She reached a particularly dank stretch of the lane, its rills and features outlined with dark green moss and that gave way to an incline that veered off to a right hand bend at its top.  Angela stomped ahead, pleased to have the hill to work her aggression out on.  When she reached the top and looked down to the next hollow, however, she was alarmed to see the cyclist lying in the middle of the road, his bike, complete with mangled front wheel, lying at his side and the rear wheel spinning in mid-air.
‘Oh God no!’ she cried and raced down towards his unmoving form.
‘Are you OK?  Can you hear me?’ she cried, gingerly cradling his head.  She noticed a trickle of blood run down the side of his face from the edge of his helmet.  ‘Please! Can you hear me?’
The cyclist murmured ‘What the….?’ He looked up at Angela revealing the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen and that seemed to see straight into her soul.
‘You had a fall but I don’t think anything’s broken’ said Angela gently prodding for other injuries.  ‘Do you think you can sit up?’
‘I can certainly try!’ said the cyclist raising his arm to his head.  ‘Mind if I lean on you?’
‘Of course.  Here, put your arm around my shoulder – gently now.  Don’t move too quickly.  You may have a concussion.’
Angela helped him to his feet.  He was a tall man in his late twenties and no lightweight but between them they got him to an upright position.  Angela said ‘Let’s see if we can get that helmet off and look at the damage.’
He inclined his head towards her and she gently undid the chin strap and slowly lifted the helmet away from his head.  He had a thick head of tawny hair, shot through with natural golden highlights suggesting a person used to spending most of his time outdoors.  ‘Thanks.  I’m Andy.’ He smiled.
‘Hi Andy, I’m Angela.’ She smiled back.  ‘Best get you home I think.  Do you live round here?’
Andy shot her a look, once again revealing those crystal clear blue eyes that seemed tinged with sadness.  ‘I was just heading there now to see my Mum.  It’s not far – her cottage is the first one at the end of this lane’.  As he spoke more blood slowly trickled down across his brow line and along his cheekbone.
‘Here, use this.’  Angela handed him a tissue.  ‘You’re still bleeding.  Hold it against your forehead’
They hobbled along the lane together like a couple of war buddies - Angela supporting his weight and Andy wincing when he came down too hard on his right leg.  ‘You’ll need to go to hospital.’ Angela advised but Andy didn’t answer.  He looked down the lane ahead of them.
‘I always loved this place.  I grew up round here you know.  That’s why I was on autopilot coming round that bend.  I didn’t count on the amount of moss on the road though…..’   His voice trailed off.
‘Was your Mum expecting you?’ enquired Angela.
‘Always.’  Andy muttered and once again Angela thought she detected a sadness within him that she couldn’t explain.  She tried to distract him from his pain by chattering about the cottage, Pete and anything to make the pain less prominent.
‘It’s just over that wall’ Andy groaned.
‘OK, I’ll go and get help.   Here, you look pale.  Sit down and lean against the wall and I’ll be back in a jiffy.’  Angela turned to go but Andy caught her hand and once again those blue eyes made her catch her breath.
‘Thanks Angie.  You’re a real good Samaritan!  By the way, you have a great smile too!’ he teased.  It certainly lights up a dark place!’

Angela felt a flush rise from her neck to her cheeks.  Only Pete called her Angie.  She liked Andy’s easy manner and the way he made her feel; the way Pete used to when they first met, before life and work got the better of them, before….. She shook herself away from his grasp. ‘I’d best get going – you’re starting to sound delirious!’
She clambered over the wall and headed off in the direction of two small cottages.  In the garden of the nearest one, a middle aged woman was hanging out washing in the stiff breeze.  ‘Hello!  Hello there!’ shouted Angela.  ‘I need some help!’
The woman turned and Angela was struck by her piercing blue eyes.  ‘What is it Pet?  Are you hurt?’ the woman cried.
‘Hi I’m …. Angie.’ A breathless Angela stood in front of her and held out her hand. ‘No, it’s not me but there’s been an accident in the lane behind me.  A young man has come off his bike…..I think he’s your son, Andy but he’s hurt.’
The woman blanched and, wide eyed, cried ‘Andy, you’ve seen my Andy?’
‘Yes, well I assume so….. are you OK?’ she took a step towards the woman who had dropped her washing and was staring at Angela.  Angela continued ‘Er, I helped him to just over the other side of the wall over there – he said he was on his way home to you but skidded on some moss at the bottom of the hollow.  You are his Mum aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m his Mum Pet’ the woman murmured with tears in her eyes.  ‘My Andy was coming home to me.’
Confused Angela pressed on ‘Look, is there anyone around here that can help him?  He’s hit his head pretty badly and his right side is pretty banged up…..’
The woman fixed Angela with a faraway look ‘There’s no one that can help my Andy Pet.  You see he died on that road five years ago to this very day.  We never did know what had caused it.’
At that moment a car pulled up outside the garden gate and a young man got out and leaned over the wall.  ‘Hi,’ he shouted. ‘I’m Pete, your new neighbour.’
Startled and momentarily distracted the woman turned towards him.  ‘Sorry if I made you jump’ Pete looked concerned when he saw the dropped washing.  ‘Shall I help you pick that lot up?’
‘Thanks love.’ The woman said softly.  She turned to where she had seen the young woman but all she saw where sheets flapping in the breeze.  ‘Give me a hand and I’ll make you a cuppa.’
‘Deal!’ smiled Pete, hopping over the wall.
Fifteen minutes later and with steaming cups of tea in front of them the woman introduced herself.  ‘I’m Alice Rowlands’ she smiled, offering her hand in a formal introductory handshake.  ‘And you must be the young widower who’s moved into the old Jenkin’s place over the way there?’
‘That’s right’ sighed Pete sadly.  ‘I lost my wife Angie a little over a year ago and moved out here to find some peace I guess.  We’d been together since we were teenagers.’

‘Angie you say?’ said Alice.    ‘I don’t suppose you have a picture do you?’
‘Of course’ Pete fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket.  ‘Always carry her with me.  Here you go.’
There, in the front section of the wallet, squinting in long ago sunlight and smiling happily at the photographer was the young woman Alice had spoken to earlier.  Alice touched the face in the photo and smiled sadly.  ‘I’m sure she was a lovely girl’ she murmured.
‘Angie was the love of my life’ said Pete softly.  ‘I still don’t know how I’ll get by without her.’
‘Oh, you’ll never be without her Pet,’ Alice said gently.  ‘Loved ones have a way of letting us know that they’re still around…..’

The End

ooOoo

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