Down to Earth. Melanie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ in the soft earth I stuffed the parachute and my helmet in it, covering it with stones to weigh it down. Drawing another steadying breath, I noticed the outline of trees to my right and set off in what I hoped was the right direction.

      Ten to fifteen minutes later a building loomed ahead of me, I could see enough to recognise the aircraft hangar and the one-storey buildings, which housed the small office, toilets and mess room where I’d had lunch several hours earlier.

      I decided to check the mess room first. But when I reached out to open the door I found that it was locked. Rubbing at the filthy, cracked window pane with the cuff of my jumpsuit, I squinted into the dark interior. I hadn’t noticed the window being quite this dirty earlier in the day and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been cracked either, but anything could have happened in my absence. Moving to the next building I located the ladies’ loo. The door was swinging gently on its hinges in the evening breeze. Pushing it open I saw that the fittings had been vandalised, the toilet seat was hanging to one side and the wash basin had been wrenched off the wall and was lying splintered on the concrete floor.

      Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I decided to use the facilities anyway. This same toilet had been clean and tidy only a few hours before, with brightly coloured curtains hanging in the window which had now mysteriously disappeared.

      Zipping up my jumpsuit I stood shivering in the moonlight, unsure what to do next. The hangar looked to be in complete darkness, but I did briefly wonder if this was all some kind of wind-up. Maybe Ingrid, Graham and Kevin were hiding in the shadows waiting to leap out and shout ‘You’ve been framed!’ and spray champagne everywhere, while the airfield crew stood laughing appreciatively in the wings.

      I walked towards the hangar only to find that the door wouldn’t budge. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I noticed that the door had been kicked in, in one corner, leaving a jagged hole near the ground. Glancing round warily to ensure that no one was around, I lay down so I could spy through the hole into the interior.

      The hangar was empty. Everything that had been in there earlier, the television screen on which we’d watched the information video, the padded mats we’d used to practise our rolling falls, the plastic chairs, the parachutes themselves – not to mention two light aircraft lockers, work benches and tools – had all simply vanished.

      Completely nonplussed, I crawled onto my knees and scuffled round into a sitting position. Leaning my back against the cold hangar wall, I drew my legs up to my chest, gazing into the oppressive nothingness with wide-eyed fear. For the second time today I found myself muttering a desperate entreaty to the God of my childhood, while staring like a lost and lonely soul into the darkness.

Chapter Three

      It took me some time to realise that although my fleece jacket and handbag (including my mobile phone) had probably disappeared along with the locker, I still hadn’t checked the car park for my car.

      Gingerly getting to my feet, I tried to hold back my tears and slowly walked the short distance to the car park with folded arms and hunched shoulders. I didn’t really want to look. The thought of not finding my car sitting waiting for me was so awful that I didn’t raise my head to look properly until the very last minute.

      It was every bit as bad as I’d expected. Not only had the dozen or so cars disappeared, including my Suzuki Vitara jeep, but the gravel surface had gone too. A rusty tractor stood in the corner of a deserted field, but it might as well have been a spaceship for all the sense things were making right now.

      There hadn’t been many instances in my life when I’d been at such a complete and utter loss. Once, at school, when I was about ten years old I’d been asked to stand up in class and recite a poem. My mind had buzzed emptily rather like it was buzzing now and my throat had dried to the point where I could barely swallow. But it had been warm in that room and the teacher had come to my rescue by leading me back to my chair and saying kindly that I could try again later.

      Here it was cold, and I was on my own. A chilly wind whipped my dark blonde hair around my shoulders, and I shivered, hugging the jumpsuit closely round me, glad of the extra layer of warmth over my jeans and thin T-shirt. I wondered if anyone was likely to come and help me now. I thought probably not. If there was going to be any sort of rescue, then I would have to do it myself. Whatever had happened here, my only recourse was to try and find some shelter, some food and some warmth, a place to collect my wits and plan how I was going to get home.

      I remembered passing a village on the way to the airfield this morning. Perhaps I would find help there. I walked down the dark road for what seemed like hours while the wind howled mercilessly and blew dried leaves down from the trees, making me jump with every rustle. When I finally saw the lights of a pub, I could have cried with relief. Pushing open the entrance door, I blinked in the sudden brightness and paused to take stock.

      There was a fire burning in the grate against the opposite wall, a long wooden bar counter taking up most of the space to my left and about fifteen people of all ages sitting at tables. Squeezing past them towards the fire, I was surprised by the complete absence of cigarette smoke. I’d always hated the way smoke hung in the air stinging my eyes and throat, making my clothes and hair reek for hours afterwards.

      As I took a seat halfway between the bar and the fire, I eyed the couple sitting on bar stools nearby, wondering how I was going to ask for help. I had no money about my person, no personal details or any form of identification. Who would take me seriously?

      ‘Can I get you anything, love?’

      I glanced up to find the barman staring at me from behind the bar.

      ‘Er, do you have a pay phone I could use?’ I called back.

      He pointed his head to the end of the bar. ‘There’s a phone out by the toilets, but you’ll need a phone card.’

      ‘Can I reverse the charges?’

      He looked at me long and hard. ‘Are you alright, love?’

      I felt myself blushing under his scrutiny. The couple at the bar were looking at me now and several of the other customers had stopped talking to glance my way. I suppose I looked a bit out of place sitting in an ill-fitting blue jumpsuit with my tear-stained face and lack of personal belongings.

      ‘I had an accident up the road there.’ It wasn’t too much of a lie, I thought. ‘I need to ring someone to come and fetch me.’

      ‘You look a bit peaky, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?’

      ‘No, really,’ I shook my head. ‘If I could just use your phone I could get my boyfriend to come for me.’

      ‘Where’s your car? It isn’t blocking the road or anything?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And no one else was involved?’ The barman had come round the bar to get a better look at me. He held out a glass of water. ‘Here, drink this.’

      He watched as I gratefully sipped the cool liquid. I hadn’t realised how thirsty I was.

      ‘You look familiar, somehow.’ He looked at me closely. ‘Are you from round these parts?’

      I shook my head again. ‘I drove down from Surrey this morning.’

      He seemed to come СКАЧАТЬ