The Wolf Spinner

d out of the windscreen. This weather was frightening. Saffy wanted to be inside, warm in the cottage. This road didn't even have streetlights, not that they would have been any use,

ion? Doris had been quiet for the last few miles. Her

re

fron turned the radio up. All she could do was carry on and hope that the tree roots were long and well establis

hat the

nd she saw something on the verge. She reversed the vehicle and pulled up in front of the animal. She got out and grabbed the torch from

, the rain and his blood mingling and running down his face and into his thi

n to hit you. I'll get my p

ing her phone and running back to him. Except... He wasn't there. Not even a mark of whe

e only thing that puzzled her. Why hadn't she felt the emotions of that man? She could feel everyone, and that was why she had left London, to stop feeling the emotions of every person she made eye contact w

ven a long way, you're tired, and now you ar

. She had met no one who could lock their feelings away from her. Her jeans were now soggy as she sat in the driving seat again, a

ain had stopped, and the sky was blazing with stars. Doris kicked into life and instructed

ld reach the windowsill of the bedrooms. She had never been here to see her grandmother. Saffy's mum had ar

ned for a moment, and Saffron swayed and grabbed hold of the car handle. God, was she that tired? The cottage seemed to move too as if in a heat mirage, like when you're driving on a hot day and the road in front seems half disappear. The front door was at th

ht Saffy. They had locked the cottage up a year ago, well, the solicitors had, and as far as she knew, no one had been in it since. Was the smell coming from one of those plug-in air fresheners? Saffron looked around. She cou

the smell, Sweetpeas and freesia. The room was idyllic, Saffy imagined she would have to decorate, but the room was photoshoot ready. Decor

far off memory, one that she couldn't quite grab. The walls had open shelves, and they held hundreds of bottles of all different sizes. On another wall were piles of ledgers and books labelled Illness, Truth, Lies, and Love. Hanging fro

the room, she knocked a bottle off the shelf; it was only a small bottle, and it smashed on the red-tiled f

e her up. She pulled the handmade quilt over her head, and she closed her eyes, intending to sleep again. But a tendril of excitement was curling in her belly. She was in her new home, away from the millions of people in London. A place where she had to wear headphones and th

d to clean that bottle up. She found a dustpan and a brush and opened the door, expecting to find glass on the floor. Hang on a minute. She wasn't dreaming. She knocked the bottle over, and there was a space on the shelf, and the smashed bottle should be on the floor. The shelf was full

jars, Saffy dear, I'm so gl