we just leave it at that?"
"It's your call," Matthews says, leaning down and grabbing Mrs. Mayberry's ankles. "You ready?"
Hauling the dead body up between them, the two men carefully carry her out the door. As they go, they step through the small pile of stone dust, tramping it out onto the landing, down the stairs and ultimately all the way out to Dr. Wellington's waiting van. As the body is loaded into the back of the vehicle, Dr. Wellington notices that he has forgotten one small but important part of the process. Leaning into the van, he places a hand over Mrs. Mayberry's face and gently closes her eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Opening her eyes, Sam stares up at the ceiling and struggles - just for a moment - to remember where she is. It's only when she realizes that her alarm is ringing, and only after she's grabbed her phone and switched it off, that she notices the time. It's 7.30am, which seems to her to be an unnaturally early time to get up until she remembers that she's supposed to unlock the gates of the cemetery in half an hour, and then get to work putting the place back into some semblance of order.
She sits up in bed and looks across the room. It's so bare in here but, in a way, that's kind of how she likes it. No distractions. No temptations. No laptop and no internet, no DVDs and no video games. Just an empty wooden room and a cemetery outside that needs some urgent attention. She thinks back to that time, about a year ago, when she briefly worked in a coffee shop. If she was late to work back then, the worst that would happen would be that a bunch of stressed commuters would have to wait slightly longer for their lattes. Here, however, the grass is going to keep growing day and night, whether or not it gets cut. Nature provides a less flexible, and more important, deadline.
"Morning, Sparky," she says, glancing over at the window. As the morning sun shines through the glass, Sam can just about make out the silhouette of Sparky, who has been chained to the drainpipe since the early hours. Having suffered the indignity of letting the teenagers push the stone angel toward her without being caught, Sam was determined to end their fun, so in the middle of the night she grabbed a chain and a padlock from the shed and secured Sparky to the side of the cottage. At least this way, she's certain that the kids will have to come up with some other way to torment her.
After getting dressed quickly and eating some bread, Sam steps out the front door and looks out at the vast untamed cemetery. She's decided to tackle it systematically over the course of three days, starting by mowing the grass and trimming the borders. It's a big job, and it won't be easy, but in some way she's actually looking forward to doing something constructive. After the events of the past six months, she feels like losing herself in a task that doesn't require too much thought. The old Sam Marker would have hated the idea of working in a cemetery and spending her days as a gardener, but the new Sam Marker thinks it's a splendid task, and one that should keep the old Sam Marker from come back to cause trouble.
"My kingdom," Sam says, walking over to the edge of the grass before turning and looking back at the cottage. "And my castle," she adds. Although it might seem like a strange, quiet life, she's starting to get used to the idea of living here. After all, there aren't many people who get to live in a place like this. It's tempting to think of her old friends, still out partying and living life in the fast lane back in Leeds; for a moment, she feels a pang of nostalgia for the days of sleeping 'til noon and job-hunting, and the nights of stumbling out of nightclubs with Nadia in the early hours. Still, even if she wanted to go back, it wouldn't be an option. Not now, and maybe not ever. Those days are over.
At 8am precisely, Sam unlocks and opens the front gate, swinging it back and propping it open with a small rock. She glances out into
"It's your call," Matthews says, leaning down and grabbing Mrs. Mayberry's ankles. "You ready?"
Hauling the dead body up between them, the two men carefully carry her out the door. As they go, they step through the small pile of stone dust, tramping it out onto the landing, down the stairs and ultimately all the way out to Dr. Wellington's waiting van. As the body is loaded into the back of the vehicle, Dr. Wellington notices that he has forgotten one small but important part of the process. Leaning into the van, he places a hand over Mrs. Mayberry's face and gently closes her eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Opening her eyes, Sam stares up at the ceiling and struggles - just for a moment - to remember where she is. It's only when she realizes that her alarm is ringing, and only after she's grabbed her phone and switched it off, that she notices the time. It's 7.30am, which seems to her to be an unnaturally early time to get up until she remembers that she's supposed to unlock the gates of the cemetery in half an hour, and then get to work putting the place back into some semblance of order.
She sits up in bed and looks across the room. It's so bare in here but, in a way, that's kind of how she likes it. No distractions. No temptations. No laptop and no internet, no DVDs and no video games. Just an empty wooden room and a cemetery outside that needs some urgent attention. She thinks back to that time, about a year ago, when she briefly worked in a coffee shop. If she was late to work back then, the worst that would happen would be that a bunch of stressed commuters would have to wait slightly longer for their lattes. Here, however, the grass is going to keep growing day and night, whether or not it gets cut. Nature provides a less flexible, and more important, deadline.
"Morning, Sparky," she says, glancing over at the window. As the morning sun shines through the glass, Sam can just about make out the silhouette of Sparky, who has been chained to the drainpipe since the early hours. Having suffered the indignity of letting the teenagers push the stone angel toward her without being caught, Sam was determined to end their fun, so in the middle of the night she grabbed a chain and a padlock from the shed and secured Sparky to the side of the cottage. At least this way, she's certain that the kids will have to come up with some other way to torment her.
After getting dressed quickly and eating some bread, Sam steps out the front door and looks out at the vast untamed cemetery. She's decided to tackle it systematically over the course of three days, starting by mowing the grass and trimming the borders. It's a big job, and it won't be easy, but in some way she's actually looking forward to doing something constructive. After the events of the past six months, she feels like losing herself in a task that doesn't require too much thought. The old Sam Marker would have hated the idea of working in a cemetery and spending her days as a gardener, but the new Sam Marker thinks it's a splendid task, and one that should keep the old Sam Marker from come back to cause trouble.
"My kingdom," Sam says, walking over to the edge of the grass before turning and looking back at the cottage. "And my castle," she adds. Although it might seem like a strange, quiet life, she's starting to get used to the idea of living here. After all, there aren't many people who get to live in a place like this. It's tempting to think of her old friends, still out partying and living life in the fast lane back in Leeds; for a moment, she feels a pang of nostalgia for the days of sleeping 'til noon and job-hunting, and the nights of stumbling out of nightclubs with Nadia in the early hours. Still, even if she wanted to go back, it wouldn't be an option. Not now, and maybe not ever. Those days are over.
At 8am precisely, Sam unlocks and opens the front gate, swinging it back and propping it open with a small rock. She glances out into
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