Page 68 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘Is that a problem?’ asked Matthew, scaring me by suddenly appearing at my door.
‘I just can’t see anything. At all. Definitely not a moon. And where actually are we? My phone’s stopped working.’
‘Dartmoor,’ said the man. ‘You’re off grid. Won’t get a signal anywhere here.’
‘Dartmoor?’ I said. ‘As in prison?’
The man said something quietly to Matthew that I couldn’t hear. Probably along the lines of ‘it won’t be long before they notice I’ve escaped’.
‘Come on, Alice,’ said Matthew. ‘I’m getting cold out here.’
‘You’re not selling it, Matthew. And if our phones won’t work, how are we meant to know what direction to go in?’
‘I know where I’m going.’
Both of the men were staring at me, frankly a little impatiently. So, after weighing up my options – prison man or Matthew Lloyd – I opened the car door and tried to step down but it was too far, so I sort of slid out, getting mud and other gross stuff all over my nicest tracksuit bottoms.
I looked up and Matthew was already off, trekking through the woods.
I managed at least five minutes in the manner of full-onSAS: Who Dares Wins, slogging, tripping and stumbling behind Matthew, panting – and, if I’m honest, terrified – before I caved.
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Just tell me where we’re going.’
‘It’s through these last few trees,’ called Matthew. ‘Come on!’ He marched ahead and I started rushing again, worried he was going to leave me completely behind.
‘Where?’
‘You’ll like it.’
‘Matthew?’ I called, pushing ahead through the dense trees. ‘I can’t see you.’
‘Follow my voice. You’re nearly there. Trust me.’
I didn’t trust him. And that was before the trees suddenly gave way and I saw him standing, encircled by mist, next to a stone cross with an iron ring on it. And that was before I realised he was surrounded by gleaming eyes. It was like a billboard for a horror film.
I squealed, ‘What the FUCK?’
‘Stone cross,’ said Matthew, smiling. ‘They’re everywhere. It’s seriously old here. Ley lines everywhere.’
‘No.’ I took a few steps backwards, my heart beating a rapid patter that rivalled Phil Collins. ‘What arethey?’
More and more eyes were emerging from the mist. And then I saw the horns.
‘Sheep. How can you not recognise sheep? You grew up in the Cotswolds.’
‘They’ve got horns! I’m not going near them. We’ll have to turn around.’
Matthew sighed. ‘Alice, you’re fine. Come on.’
Then something screeched and flapped, literally right next to my face, and I screamed again, sprinting towards Matthew, and dived into his solid chest, my arms up shielding my head.
‘Help me,’ I gasped. ‘I’m being attacked by an eagle.’
‘It’s a bat.’ His calm voice vibrated through his body and into my ear, sounding even deeper than usual. ‘You don’t need help.’
He put his hands on my arms and moved them down to mysides, but he didn’t push me away; he stood there, letting me press my face into him, taking my weight.
‘When you said you had an affinity with nature,’ Matthew said drily, ‘I had no idea just how much.’
