It was as she was considering this that Sally appeared at the bedroom door carrying a handful of washing.
On seeing Maureen awake, she put the laundry down and rushed over to her.
"Oh Maureen, you're awake.
How do you feel?"
Maureen raised a hand to her bandage.
"My head hurts."
"Well it's bound to.
You probably really needed stitches.
So don't fiddle with it."
There was a forceful yet concerned tone to Sally's voice, such that Maureen lowered her hand and did as she was told.
Maureen looked down at the pile of laundry, Sally had brought in.
"Yes," she said.
"I washed your clothes.
I know you hate me meddling but... well, let's just say there's a cleanliness you get from a washing machine that you don't get from hand washing and let's leave it at that."
She smiled, and Maureen found herself wondering if she had misjudged the woman.
"Thank you."
"Oh don't be so silly, Maureen.
You do very well for someone your age, but there's no shame in asking for a little help from time to time."
Maureen felt disarmed by this previously unseen side of Sally.
Sally, her saviour.
Who would have thought it?
"You really didn't have to."
"No," Sally replied, "I didn't but I did.
How did you manage to cut your head so badly?
Simon thought you might have been mugged, but I told him how good you are with being careful at the door."
She laughed, “I told him that if I can't get in, then what chance does a mugger have?"
Maureen tried to laugh along too, but her head throbbed and laughing seemed to make it worse.
She managed a weak smile.
"No, I just whacked my head on a shelf," Maureen lied.
"I know, I know, I should be more careful at my age."
Sally shrugged as she started folding the laundry and placing it in drawers.
"Could have happened to anyone.
These things happen."
Maureen cast her mind back over yesterday's events.
Could they really have happened to anyone?
And what about Joseph?
Had he escaped?
Was he injured?
Was he even alive?
Maureen tried to push herself up in bed. She felt so weak and frail.
"I need to be getting up.
So much to do."
"What you need is some bed rest.
I wouldn't be getting up just yet.
You took quite a knock."
"I need to feed the cats," Maureen said.
"I've fed them, don't worry.
And don't go worrying about meals either.
I'll bring them over to you."
Suddenly Maureen felt trapped, her warm, comfy bed becoming a prison.
"Oh you don't need to go to so much trouble."
Sally sighed.
"It's no trouble, Maureen.
Stop thinking of yourself as a burden.
Besides Simon's project isn't going very well and he's having to stay late at work, so you'll only be eating what I'd otherwise throw away."
Maureen looked at the flowers by her bed and felt ashamed.
She'd misjudged Sally and she couldn't help but feel guilty about that.
Maureen had constantly shut the door in the woman's face, and yet in her hour of need, Sally had been the one to come to her aid. Maybe she should just accept she was old and couldn't manage any more.
Maybe a home wouldn't be so much of a bad thing.
Nothing lasted forever, even the flowers would eventually die.
"Do you like them?" asked Sally.
"Yes," Maureen replied.
"Thank you... for everything."
Sally brushed a hand in front of her face.
"Oh don't be silly.
It's my pleasure."
#
Sally left her alone with the promise to be back in a couple of hours, but not until she had helped Maureen to the loo and back.
Stepping out of the warmth of her bedroom and into the cold had struck her, had chilled her to her bones.
How had she managed to live like this?
But as much as a dream the other world felt to her, she couldn't help but think of Joseph.
She kept telling herself that he'd told her to escape and yet the fact that she'd run away just added to her guilt.
Run, she scoffed.
In Venefasia, she'd felt spritely, yet look at her now, too frail to even get out of bed.
The thought struck her out of the blue as she lay in the bed waiting for Sally to return.
You're dying, Maureen.
All the time you lie here in this bed, you're just getting more and more frail.
Just like flowers without water.
If you stay here, you'll die in this bed
, she thought.
At least it's warm
, another part of her mind countered.
She found herself reaching out and snapping off one of the flowers at the stem.
She muttered the butterfly spell she'd seen the acolytes practising in the classroom and watched as the flower did nothing.
There was no butterfly.
The flower did not disintegrate.
She spent a long time just looking at it in her hands.
Everything that had happened just seemed like unreal.
Yet, she knew it wasn't.
She'd been looking after the gateway for that many years it seemed natural to her to have trolls answer the door and wizards pass thru her home.
But her recent adventures in Venefasia felt apart from that.
"I need to get to the gateway door," she told herself.
This in itself seemed like a herculean effort.
Even being helped to the toilet had sapped what little strength she had.
She spent a long time thinking about it, willing herself to get out of bed, her body rejecting.
It was warm and comfortable and she didn't want to move.
But eventually she willed first one leg, then a second out of the bed.
Aching and head spinning, she found herself sitting at the edge of the bed.
The trick is to do this in baby steps
, she told herself.
Focus on putting on your dressing gown, nothing more.
Then, put on your slippers.
Then stand
.
Each task seemed to drain her even further, but she waited a long time between each stage, gathering the strength and willpower to accomplish the next task.
And so, she found herself at the door, then the top of the stairs, then half way down, then at the bottom.
She knew the return journey would be a lot harder, but she tried not to think of that, instead just focusing on getting to the cellar door.
The room was now spinning around her, and her legs ached, but she refused to sit at the bottom of the stairs for a while.
You have got to keep going
, she told herself
.
Think of Joseph, think of Ernest
.
The flat walk to the cellar door caused her to break out in a sweat.
By the time she was ready to make her way down the rickety stairs she just wanted to close her eyes as if it would somehow stop the nausea and pain.
One step at a time
, she reminded herself.
You're nearly there
.
Those stairs seemed to take forever and more than once she didn't think she could go on.
But what option did she have, carry on, or try and climb back up to her bedroom?
The easy option was to continue down.
The cold had penetrated her dressing gown, and what warmth she'd had in her body had now left her, to the extent that at the bottom of the cellar stairs, she just wanted to curl up on the floor and die.
The sight of the gateway door gave her strength, but not as much as the letter that seemed to be pushed under it.
Had someone been scheduled to come through?
She'd lost all track of time and her diary was upstairs.
Had the Inquisitor realised he'd left his folder here?
Was someone enquiring if she knew where Joseph was?
Curiosity fuelled those final few steps.
She staggered to the door, and with great effort, unlocked it and threw it wide open.
A late Venefasia afternoon bathed her in heat and light, bringing warmth to her bones and soothing her head.
On the way down she didn't honestly think she'd ever be able to make it back upstairs, but now as she breathed deeply and the warmth returned to her body she felt she might.
With effort, she bent down and picked up the letter.
She wasn't used to having letters tucked under the door.
In fact, this was the first bit of post she'd ever received from Venefasia.
She recognised the handwriting on the envelope, the big awkward letters of a troll.
It said "Maureen" on it.
Her heart skipped a beat as she realised Joseph must be alive.
Frantically she tore at the envelope, ripping out the letter contained within.
"Dear Maureen", it read.
"They have me.
They say they will kill me unless you come.
Please come quick.
15 Park Place East.
Come alone.
Joseph."
On a second sheet, a crudely drawn map showed the directions to the location.
Maureen found herself crying.
Part of it was relief that Joseph was alive, part of it was fear for his safety.
Perhaps she could go to Rofen.
Maybe if she explained, he'd understand.
Was her job really worth more than Joseph's life anyway?
No
, she told herself.
They said come alone, she'd seen enough police shows on the television to know that involving the police rarely ended well for the hostage.
And if her experience of New Salisbury police was anything to go by...
She walked carefully a few steps onto the cloister of the Friary.
She felt an inner warmth strengthen her and she fished the broken plant stem out of her dressing gown pocket.
Again she muttered the butterfly incantation, and felt a shiver down her spine as the plant disintegrated and a ghostly butterfly flew about her head.
Her jaw dropped and a hand went to her mouth.
She could do magic, it wasn't a dream, it wasn’t elven trickery.
She walked over and looked out over the side to make sure there were no elves hiding there, just to make sure.
No, she told herself, they had no reason to toy with her.
She
really could
do magic.
She wished she had more plant stems to test more spells, but no, she told herself.
She needed to get back to bed before Sally came.
Whilst the cold of the cellar hit her and made her shiver as she locked the door and hung up the key, she felt an inner strength that she'd not felt since she'd last stumbled out the gateway, injured and bloody.
Consequently, the journey up the stairs was a lot easier than the journey down.
She still felt weak and frail, but her head had cleared, and she felt a fire in her belly.
They had Joseph but he was alive.
She was just getting into bed, when she heard the key in the front door lock, and Sally enter.
"You're looking a lot perkier," Sally told her as she ate the soup and toast Sally had brought for her.
"I was worried about you for a while."
"I'm feeling a lot better than you," Maureen said between mouthfuls of toast.
How long had it been since she'd last eaten?
"Well, just take it easy," Sally warned.
"Don't go doing things before you're ready."
She was right of course, even though her little trip down to the gateway had done her the world of good, she still wasn't a hundred percent.
As Sally took the tray and left her be for the evening, Maureen's thoughts turned to Joseph.
They wanted her and for that reason, resting and regaining her strength would do no harm.
She could do magic and that changed things.
That changed things dramatically. She wouldn't go to Rofen, she would come alone like they asked.
She had the element of surprise, and those elves were going to be
very
surprised.
She rarely thought that violence beget anything other than violence, but it was looking more and more likely that the elves had murdered Ernest.
And now they were holding her best friend captive.
That sort of thing made her a tad annoyed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - The Trap
"So," said Ryan, breaking the silence as he guided Cassidy through the streets of Swindon.
"How long you two been going out?"
There was something about the guy Darwin didn't like.
Maybe the fact they were a similar age.
"We're just friends, we're not an item," Darwin replied and regretted it when Ryan's face perked up.