Will and Testament // Sequel to the Rosie Grey series

Chapter Eighteen

I sat on the bank of the pond for hours.

The water washed around my ankles and I grew used to the icy temperature the longer I sat there. Every now and then, a frog would hop out of the pond and hop along the edge of the water before diving back in and disappearing from view. Birds tweeted in the trees and the leaves rustled in the wind. My arms stung from where the branches had cut through the fabric of my sleeves and marked my skin but I ignored it.

No one came out to find me.

Water soaked the very bottom of my dress, the hem just touching the water's edge. I watched the water slowly work its way further up the bottom of my dress the longer I sat there. The ground underneath me had become marsh-like because of the pond and I knew the back of my dress would be stained by the mud and grass. Goosebumps formed on my arms but I didn't move or make any attempt to return to the house. I didn't want to go back to the house.

Darkness fell with the sun starting to dip behind the trees. I glanced up and could see the pink clouds covering the sky, the darkness moving in behind it. Behind me, a branch snapped. I twisted around and stared in the direction of the snapped branch. My heart thumped in my chest at the thought of who could be walking towards me. Although we were outside of London, Grandfather always said that there were some strange characters who would wander around the trees.

I dug my fingers into my mud and stared into the trees, listening to the sound of other branches snapping and what sounded like someone stumbling through the trees. A shadow travelled across the grass and I grabbed a handful of mud intending to throw it at whoever emerged from the trees, although I didn't think it would be all that effective.

The shadow grew larger and I watched Uncle Matthew stumble through the trees, brushing his jacket off and huffing. I relaxed my hands and let the mud fall onto the ground. Before Uncle Matthew saw me staring, I turned back to the pond and looked down into the murky water. The anger bubbles started to rise up again; I didn't want to talk to him.

"You've chosen a good hiding spot," Uncle Matthew said. "I've been looking for ages."

"There's a reason it's called a hiding spot," I muttered.

"That's true." Uncle Matthew sat on the ground beside me, ignoring the mud. His hand brushed mine. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I'm not having you get sick."

Uncle Matthew removed his jacket, even though it would make him cold in the process, and draped it over my shoulder. Warmth enveloped me immediately but I tried not to show it and made no movement to pull the jacket down my arms. I swung my feet around in the pond, disturbing the water and sending small ripples across the pond. One of the frogs jumped out, it croaked at me before hopping back into the water.

"That was something, back at the house I mean," he said.

"If you've gone to give me a lecture, then you can go away.

"No lecture. I'm not the lecturing sort, that's more James and Christopher than me." He chuckled to himself. "I like to think I'm more of a listening person. Someone you can talk to if you want to."

"I don't want to talk."

"That's why I said if you want to."

"All I want is to be left on my own."

"You know I can't do that, Izzy. It's getting late and I doubt that even you can see in the dark. I'm out here because you've been out here for hours and we were getting worried."

"Right, of course, you were."

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my hands, picking at the mud that started to dry on my palms and under my nails. They don't care about me. If they did, they would have come after me hours ago and not when it started to get dark and everyone was due to return home. For all they knew, I could have been hurt in the middle of the woods and none of them would have been any the wiser until they came to look for several hours later. There was no care or worry, just self-preservation.