The Valley in Longing 21

The drive to the farmhouse took no time at all, and he was soon pulling up in the yard in front of the partially destroyed house. He looked around briefly, but was confident they were alone, and he knew he was going to have to work quickly if he was going to be back home in time for dinner, without anyone suspecting anything. Throwing open the door next to him, he got out, shouting for Daisy to get out as well. Daisy was stunned and horrified by what had happened; she had never been hit before, not properly, and she didn’t know how to react to it other than to be afraid. Releasing her seatbelt when he got out of the Land Rover and started towards the rear of it, she threw herself across the car so she could pull the driver’s door closed and locked it. After that she reached over to hit the lock on the passenger door, she then dropped herself into the driver’s seat. She had never driven a car before, never even started the engine on one, but she had seen her parents drive often enough to be reasonably confident that she could manage. Unfortunately, there was one thing she hadn’t thought of. She was groping for the keys, so she could start the engine, when there came a sound that set her heart to pounding in her chest. Fearfully, she looked around, and saw that He had the keys, and was tapping them on the window’ when he saw that he had her attention, he stopped and unlocked the vehicle. ‘That was very - fucking - stupid,’ He said angrily, speaking slowly and deliberately to emphasise his words. Reaching into the Land Rover, he grabbed Daisy and dragged her out. She fell to the ground when he let go of her, and simply lay there, sobbing. ‘Get up,’ he ordered in a voice so harsh it made her sob all the harder, ‘I said get up. Get up and get inside.’ He accompanied the order with a kick that lifted her half off the ground, and drove the air from her lungs in an explosive gasp. Daisy lay there for several long moments, overwhelmed by pain and struggle for breath, and then she slowly began to push herself up. He seemed satisfied that she was doing as she had been told once she started to get up, and she used that to her advantage; while He was focused on what he was doing at the rear of the Land Rover, she, instead of heading towards the farmhouse, began moving slowly back the way they had driven. She wanted to run, to sprint for the road that led to the village as fast as her legs would carry her, but she was afraid that running would attract his attention, which was the last thing she wanted to do. She had gone no more than a couple of feet, when she saw what it was he was taking from the boot of the Land Rover. The moment she saw the body - she couldn’t see the face, so she had no idea who it was, but she could see that it was female - she screamed, a prolonged sound of terror that made him drop his burden and spin towards her. The anger in his face gave Daisy a burst of adrenaline that sent her racing away, like a rabbit being pursued by a pack of dogs. He forgot all about Amy’s body as he sprinted after Daisy - Amy was not going anywhere, but if Daisy got away, he would be in serious trouble. He was not as fast as the fleeing girl, he saw that almost immediately, so he did the only thing he could think of; He threw himself into a diving tackle. He caught Daisy around the legs with one arm, and drove her to the ground with his momentum. Untangling himself from her, he rolled the teen over and pulled her towards him. ‘That was really - fucking - stupid.’ He punctuated each word with a punch that threatened to dislodge Daisy’s teeth. ‘You - had - to - make - things - worse.’ He continued to berate her between blows until he was out of breath and his knuckles were beginning to get sore, at which point, He stopped and got to his feet. After several long moments, during which he regained his breath, he bent down to grab Daisy’s foot, so he could drag her to the farmhouse. With trembling fingers, Tara unlocked the front door. She was late home, and dreaded what her father was going to say - the only consolation she could think of was that she was too old to be spanked. She hadn’t meant to be late, if it hadn’t been for her friend, Marleen, distracting her with some videos and Youtube, right when she was about to leave, she would have been home on time. All thoughts of the punishment she was likely to receive, was driven from her mind when she got the door open and was greeted by a cloud of thick black smoke which billowed out to engulf her. She stumbled, choking, away from the door until she found fresh air and could breathe again. It took her a short while to recover enough to wonder what was going on, and once she did, she cautiously approached the front door; the worst of the smoke had cleared, so she could see beyond the front door to the passage, but she still felt her throat close - up a little as she stepped over the threshold and started down the passage. ‘Am. Am. Amy!’ Tara called out, as she headed along the passage to the kitchen; she wondered where her sister was. She realised before she got to the kitchen that the smoke was coming from the dinner Amy was supposed to have been cooking; how the dinner had come to be burned, she didn’t know, but she was certain that it meant Amy was going to be the one in trouble, not her. There was no response from Amy by the time she got to the kitchen, and no sign of her dad. Tara’s instinct was to go looking for them; she resisted that instinct, however, knowing it was more important to deal with the situation in the kitchen. She paused long enough to collect the fire extinguisher from the cupboard under the stairs, where it was kept, and then she entered the kitchen, holding her eyes blink, but she found her way to the stove without any problems, and once there she put the fire extinguisher down - there were no flames for her to deal with just then. Since there was no fire for her to extinguish, she focused instead on the smoke. Grabbing the pans off the top of the stove, she carried them to the sink, where she turned on the cold tap to douse the contents - at one time they might have been described as food, but that was no longer the case. That done, she returned to the stove. She groped through the smoke, while continuing to hold her breath, until she had turned off all the hobs and the oven and found the oven - gloves. As ready as she was going to get, she pulled the oven door open, releasing a fresh cloud of smoke that threatened to choke her, and reached in for the roasting pans. She almost dropped them, but made it to the sink without mishap, and dumped them into the water with the other pans, she then yanked open the back door and made for the fresh air. Tara remained outside until the last of the smoke had cleared, and then she returned to the kitchen to turn off the water before the sink could overflow and flood the kitchen. The last thing she needed was more mess, even if she wasn’t responsible for the state the kitchen was in, and she had no intention of being the one to clean it up. Once the water had stopped, she checked the oven to be sure it was out, and there was no fire to be dealt with - there wasn’t, thankfully - and then went in search of her sister. As she headed nervously up the stairs, afraid of what she was going to find - she knew that something had to have happened for Amy to have left the dinner burn - Tara took out her phone so she could call her dad, it rang several times before switching over to voicemail; she immediately disconnected the call and dialed again. The second time she reached voicemail she began speaking, babbling. ‘Where are you, daddy?’ she wanted to know, almost sobbing into the phone. ‘Why aren’t you answering. I need you. I think something’s happened to Amy; the dinner’s been burned and - and …’ Her voice stumbled when she reached the top of the stairs and she saw the mess that was once the door to her sister’s bedroom. ‘I’m s-s-scared d-d -daddy.’ she stammered as she edged towards her sister’s bedroom; she wanted to turn and run down the stairs and out of the house, but she couldn’t, she had to know if Amy was there. ‘Amy’s door’s broken,’ she continued down the phone. She saw the messed - up quilt straight away, but wasn’t troubled by that. It wasn’t until she reached the end of the bed, and saw that Amy was not in the room, and that there was blood - her brain leapt to an answer for what the red stuff was - on the bedside cabinet that she lost control of herself. With a scream, she fled the room, with such haste that she tripped when halfway down the stairs and fell the rest of the way. Bruised and shaken, but somehow still in possession of he phone, Tara got to her feet so she could run from the house; she had always felt safe and secure at home; she had always felt safe and secure at home, but now she felt scared to be there. She wanted to keep running, across the yard and out the gate and down the road, but she forced herself to stop in the yard so that she could call for help - not from her father, since he was clearly not answering his phone. Cecil Wright was surprised and alarmed to find both of Dorning Draad’s patrol cars in the yard outside his house when he got home. He brought his Land Rover to a stop and threw open the door, almost falling out of the vehicle in his haste; once on his feet, he ran across the yard and into the house - the front door was already open, so he didn’t have to waste time fumbling for his keys but that didn’t make him feel any better, if anything, he felt worse. ‘Amy, Tara,’ he called out as he started down the passage. He stopped almost immediately as he caught sight of his youngest daughter out the corner of his eye. ‘Tara, what’s going on?’ he asked as he strode across the living room to the sofa, where the fourteen - year - old was sitting with Melissa, who had been calming her after the shock she had experienced. ‘Where were you, daddy?’ Tara asked in a desperate voice. She was torn between the urge to leap to her feet and throw herself into her father’s arms, and the desire to remain where she was on the sofa, where she had been made to feel safe by Melissa. In the end, she stayed where she was; the distress she felt at her failure to get hold of her father kept her from going to him. ‘I called and called, but you didn’t answer. Where were you. I needed you!’ ‘I’m sorry, honey,’ Cecil apologised, pulling his daughter up and into his arms so he could comfort her. ‘But you know how I am with that damned phone - if I’m not right there when it rings, I don’t have a clue that someone’s tried to call me. Are you alright?’…