She swung down her rucksack and got out her torch. If she had doubted the wisdom of her mission before, she doubted it even more now. If Milou hadn’t heard her by now he wasn’t going to. And climbing the hills in the dark and rain would only put her at risk. She already felt stupid for coming so far without thinking about this before.
She would switch on the torch and go back.
But going down was harder than travelling up had been. She slipped on stones and branches, and now the rain was finding its way past the leaves and adding mud to the hazards. She nearly fell several times. And then she did fall, dropping her torch, bumping down the hill, bouncing off rocks and tree roots. The thought was flashing through her mind that this was a much faster way to get down than walking was when she banged into a large rock and stopped. She was breathless and frightened, not daring to move in case she’d broken something.
She seemed to be sitting in a stream and realised that rain was running off the mountains and through the woods. But being wet and cold was the least of her problems. Did anything hurt? Eventually she decided she was all right – bruised, shaken, covered in mud, feeling like an idiot, but not hurt. But she didn’t move for a little while, as she let herself get over the effects of shock. It was going to be a lot harder without the torch.
She felt suddenly tearful at the prospect of making her way back through the forest in the dark when it was so slippery underfoot. But crying wouldn’t help. She had to get on.
‘Right!’ she said. ‘Let’s get going!’ Then she wished she hadn’t spoken her thoughts out loud. Her voice among the dripping trees sounded so lonely and vulnerable she almost wanted to cry again. The forest seemed darker than ever and the rain to be coming down harder.
She got to her feet and instantly they slid from under her, making her sit down hard on a rock. A few more tears came but she was determined to fight this useless self-pity. She had to move – she couldn’t stay where she was all night, sitting in a stream getting wetter and colder with every second.
She should have brought a walking stick, she realised. There was a good collection of them in the umbrella-stand by the front door but it hadn’t occurred to her that she might need one. She’d have to improvise.
There was just about enough light to see a fallen branch to her right. It was so slippery underfoot she’d be safer if she crawled to reach it but once there, she might be able to break off a bit to use as a stick.
She took off her rucksack, which kept banging into her and making things more difficult; then she got on her stomach and began crawling. It was horrible lying in the freezing cold mud and she could only move very slowly, pulling herself along on her elbows, and the branch seemed further away than she’d first thought.
She was just reaching out for it when she heard what sounded like stampeding cattle. Instinctively she curled into a ball, making herself as small as possible, pulling her hands under her body. A creature thundered past, inches from her. When she opened her eyes, she saw it was a boar, and racing after it was Milou.
‘Milou!’ Alexandra shouted as loudly as she could, but her voice was small and croaky. ‘Milou! Stop!’
She clambered to her feet so she could go after him, managed a few steps and then tripped on a log and fell again, but this time much further. She bumped and slithered down the hill and when she stopped everything hurt and one ankle was folded under and hurt a lot more.
This time she couldn’t muster any positive thoughts. She was in a pitch-dark wood, freezing cold and soaking wet, and it seemed to be raining harder by the minute. Her ankle was incredibly painful and moving in these conditions could be dangerous. Getting home no longer seemed possible. It would be better to just stay put and hope David would find her in the morning. It was either that or crawl home on her own. She swallowed a lump in her throat; crying would make her feel even worse. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rested her head on them and closed her eyes.
The time passed so slowly. Every minute seemed like an hour. Her ankle hurt more than any other part of her and the rest of her was badly bruised. She was stiffening and her muscles ached as well as her bruises. She was shivering convulsively.
Even if David did come looking for her, he wouldn’t be able to find her in the dark. He wouldn’t see her Swallows and Amazons patterans; he had no idea where she was. She was stuck in a French forest that was full of wild boar. A sob escaped her and sounded so feeble and pathetic more sobs followed. She huddled down closer to the ground.
Suddenly there was a loud snuffling and whimpering and then her ear was being licked. It was Milou!
‘Oh, Milou! I’ve been so worried!’ she said as she wrapped her arms round him, holding as much of him as she could, burying her face in his wet fur.
He seemed very pleased to see her too. He licked her ears and whimpered with joy, and she hung on to him. ‘You must stay with me now, Milou. I had a rope for you but I’ve lost it now. You’ll just have to stay by me and not go off after boar.’
She wished she hadn’t mentioned them. The memory of those galloping hooves missing her by inches added to her fear. But she had Milou now. He would keep her warm. They’d go back tomorrow and everyone would be so glad to see them. Well, they’d be glad to see Milou, she thought. They’d just think that she had been incredibly stupid.
They huddled together in the wood, Alexandra with her eyes tight shut, clinging on to the dog. He was her friend and source of precious warmth. Her ankle was throbbing and all her aches and pains surrounded her in a blanket of discomfort. But she had Milou.
Then suddenly she didn’t have him! He’d escaped from her arms and bounded up the hill. He must have heard another boar. Having him and losing him again tipped her over into despair. The one good thing about this desperate situation was Milou, and now he’d left her.
She looked up the hill, although she knew it was far too dark to see him, and saw lights dotted around like fireflies. There were voices, men shouting to each other in the darkness. There was someone there! Someone who could help!
‘I’m here!’ she shouted, her voice hoarse and pathetic, and then she realised she’d said it in English. ‘Je suis ici! Aidez-moi!’
She took a breath to shout again and then Milou was suddenly on top of her again, licking her face. And shortly behind him was Antoine.
Alexandra didn’t believe what she was seeing. Antoine was supposedly miles away in Nice, yet somehow here he was.
He didn’t speak at first; he just pulled her up from the ground and took her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe.
‘Oh, thank God, thank God! You’re safe!’ he whispered, adding endearments in French, pulling her head in under his chin. Then he seemed to come to. ‘I am so relieved to find you safe. When we found your rucksack I thought anything could have happened to you!’
‘But why are you here? You went to Nice!’ Alexandra whispered.
‘I couldn’t stay there when I realised you were going after that wretched dog. But he found me and led me to you, so at least we have to thank him for that.’
