It was partly wedged in by snow, meaning her bags were stuck, held hostage by this incredible weather event.
With a grimace, she gave up on liberating her suitcase and made do with the bag in the backseat – a rucksack containing her laptop, camera, notes, a half-eaten piadina from a roadstop about twenty miles back, and a pair of fingerless gloves.
Fingerless gloves, she thought with a shake of her head, a smile finding her lips despite the tenuous situation she was in. Leave it to an Australian to bring such unsuitable winter garb as fingerless gloves to weather that could well have blown in from the north pole.
Thankfully, her far more appropriate jacket was also discarded on the backseat. She pulled it on first, cinching the belt around her waist and burrowing into the faux fur collar, before lifting the rucksack onto her back.
“And now what, genius?” She muttered, looking around in the thickness of the snow. The woman working at the roadhouse had said the village was ‘just a few miles up the road’, but after an hour’s driving in conditions that had taken all of Isabella’s concentration, she’d begun to realise they’d been talking at cross purposes. There was no village in sight. In fact, there was nothing in sight except the thick blanket of just-fallen snow, and the dark, rigid trunks of thick, pine trees.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she loaded a browser, wondering if she could google a map – something, anything – to work out where the hell she was. Except the browser just displayed an unhelpful little exclamation mark, and bore the words that even she with her somewhat limited Italian could interpret: no internet access.
The moon was almost completely covered by clouds. With a quick assessment of the car, Isabella risked one more incursion, flicking open the glove box to find little more than the operating manual and rental agreement. She checked between the seats; nothing. Nada. Then, beneath the passenger seat, her hands curved around a box. Hopefully, she lifted it out. A basic first aid kit. Nothing more. No flashlight.
Of course.
Most people driving on nights like this probably brought their own.
She couldn’t stay in the car. And standing here prevaricating wasn’t the answer either! She needed to move. At least by moving she’d stay warm, and have some chance of seeing someone who could help her. Refusing to give in to the apprehension that was threatening to grip her, Isabella began to walk, choosing a direction on impulse at first, she had only trudged along for about five minutes before she began to doubt the wisdom of this plan.
Letting out an uncharacteristic cry of frustration, and stomping one foot into the thick, snowy ground Isabella turned around in a circle, her long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail that whipped her cheek as she went. Everything had started off so well, until around sunset when the stunning dusting of snow had turned into more of an onslaught. By then, it had made sense to Isabella to cut short her evening’s plans and head straight to the Airbnb she’d reserved.
On her second rotation, something caught her eye. She stopped spinning immediately and narrowed her emerald green eyes, looking more closely. She was practically frozen to the spot, but yes, it was there – a light! Another noise passed her cupid’s bow lips, this one of joyous relief as she immediately changed course, veering off the road to carefully make her way towards the source of the light. A thick pine forest stood between her and it, so every now and again the trunks would grow too thick for her to see the light and her confidence would wain – was it some kind of mid-winter’s illusion? An alpine mirage?
But then she’d sweep sideways and think, ‘ah ha!’ as the light re-appeared. Step by step, she drew closer, telling herself she was at far greater risk of turning into an icicle than she was of happening to appear at the house of a villain – a rapist or murderer. It was a tenuous risk assessment at best, but she had to believe that safety – and warmth – lay somewhere near the glowing lights.
Closer and closer, until a silhouette appeared. The light wasn’t coming from a simple cottage, as she’d originally thought. This was the front porch light of some kind of magnificent, enormous castle. She stared at the turrets with a sense of awe, and for a moment a sinking feeling of disappointment, because the castle was enormous yet there was only the front light. And even if that were the case? She’d simply have to break in. She could find somewhere warm to shelter for the night and leave a note for the owner in the morning. Everything would look better in the morning, she repeated her well-worn mantra – words that had served her well throughout her life, words that she’d uttered silently when she was scared or alone, words that steadied her nerves now.
She scanned the castle again, with a frown at first, and then a flutter ignited in her chest. More lights! They were just too dim to easily see through the wildly tumbling snow. With renewed purpose, she moved forward as quickly as her legs could carry her, her whole body shaking from the cold when she approached the porch light. It stood as a silent sentinel to a large, carved timber door, set back in a stone entranceway. There were no signs here of occupation, no indication of who might be in this fairy tale castle.
Had she been less cold, she might have hesitated longer, but she was frozen almost all the way to her core. But she had known enough of life’s disappointments, and felt true fear on more than one occasion, to know that she had to employ at least some rational thought. With fingers
