When a beautiful but mysterious stranger offers nineteen-year-old Evelyn a fresh start, away from her tough life on the streets, desperation sees any initial doubts overruled by curiosity of the heart. But after arriving at Edenhall Park - an ancien...
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A stream of warm sunlight crept through a gap in the heavy silk curtains. Rolling over, I nestled down further into the blankets, my head burrowing deep into the soft feather pillow. It was a couple of seconds until the full realisation struck that I was in a bed, not curled up somewhere dangerous, shivering on a hard concrete floor.
My hands grappled with the mattress as I scrambled to sit up. Blinking furiously as my eyes took in their surroundings, things started to click back into place. Amelia. The car. Strange, beautiful people and flowers; flowers everywhere. It wasn't all a dream.
Throwing the thick, soft blankets back from my body I glanced down, relieved to see the previous night's outfit still covering my body. How had I ended up in bed? The last thing I could remember was taking a long, deep breath of sweet, fragrant smoke, and then his face. His perfect face.
A new image flashed into my mind. Strong arms carrying me up the stairs. A silhouette in the darkness as those same arms lowered me onto the mattress and cradled my head down to meet the pillow. It couldn't have been Arden; he and I hadn't yet even spoken. It must have been William.
William may have come across a little odd at first, but one thing I'd learnt on the street was not to judge everyone on first impressions alone. That could be dangerous. The scarce handful of wanderers with whom I'd developed a mutual unspoken respect had started off as frightening strangers. But, as a nineteen-year-old female, alone and naive, it was probably for the best that I had been wary of them.
Over the weeks I'd roamed, however, that same few strangers would pass by every now and then. Some of them even became the closest thing I had to friends, offering a share of what little they had managed to scrape together, or quietly passing on a tip about the best refuge to head for to stand a chance of getting a bed.
Now, as I sat on the softest mattress I'd ever felt, surrounded by the very finest things, I couldn't help but think back to those faces. Maureen - the lady who had given me a spare coat off her own back during a cold night. Jonny - a young guy so ravaged by years of drug abuse he was almost skeletal, yet he'd still shared his bread when I hadn't been able to find food. And then there was Elena - a beautiful Spanish girl around my own age, who taught me how to avoid falling in with the 'night workers', like she had done.
One day, Elena simply disappeared. She wasn't in her usual spot, and none of the other ladies knew - or wanted to say anything - of her whereabouts. As I sat in that bed, thinking back on her pretty yet troubled face, my heart sank. If only she had been lucky enough to be found by Amelia. If only she had made it to Edenhall, she too could have been one of the lucky ones.
Just like me. Whatever I had done to deserve a place within its walls, perhaps I should count myself lucky.
Cranking the stiff gold taps, I perched on the edge of the bath, wrapped in only a towel as I swirled my hands in the warm water slowly filling the large tub. Less than twenty-four hours before, I would never have even dreamed that I would be in my own private bathroom after spending the night in my own luxurious bed, with a full stomach and a rested body.
