Page 16 of The Betrothal

I arrived at the checkpoint, my hands clammy with nerves and resting on the envelope holding the physical authority forms. A young man looked me over and I hoped he couldn’t sense my dread.

“ID and papers?” he requested my documentation casually.

Pulling the identity app up on my phone so he could scan the code, I watched the photograph and my personal details pop up on the screen behind him.

He held a scanner out and I presented the papers my father had provided, another beep of the system logged the dates I was due to travel and return. The man checked the screen once more before waving me on.

Kent was close, that was why Father had chosen it, but I worried as the drive continued, mile after mile, no matter how close I came to the cottage I remained concerned that any local communities might wonder why a woman was driving alone, at night, into the remote countryside.

Sure enough, as I passed a small village pushing towards the end of my journey, the alert of a police siren told me I was being pulled over.

Blinking red and blue lights neared, flashing in the rear-view mirror.

I slowed the car, the wheels crunching over the crisp verge to pull as ‘off-road’ as I could.

The door of the police car opened and closed behind me as I maintained my posture, staring straight ahead.

Smile, Izzy.

The rap of knuckles on glass had me rolling down the manual window.

“Good evening.” My smile was purposefully mild.

“Miss.”

“What can I help you with, officer?”

The officer leaned towards the car, looking inside. “Late for you to be travelling. Alone?”

A laugh tittered; it was me but I felt detached from it.

“Yes, sir. I’m late actually.”

“To what, may I ask?” His head tilted with the question.

“My hen party. If you could call it that. Everyone is already at the cottage, and I got caught up with wedding planning and before I knew it, I was late!”

His features softened at my story.

“I have my papers.” My hand tapped the paperwork on the passenger seat. “Should you want to see them?”

He nodded, smiling, so I passed them over.

“The forge, eh? You’re not far now. There’s a sign on the left about ten minutes down this road.” He pointed ahead, then scanned the authority of movement. “Don’t dither now, miss. It’s safe around these parts.” He looked over the car. “But you’d be best to hurry to your friends.”

I nodded gratefully. “Yes, sir.”

Winding the window before he’d even left to return to his car.

The cottage was lovely, remote, open-plan luxury, and I’d benefit from none of it.

The sun was barely a sliver along the horizon by the time I was up, allowing myself the brief joy of the jet-powered shower, I boiled my skin.

The weather had dropped, if that was possible, and reports on the weather channel showed it was forecast to deteriorate.

I looked to the most expensive paperweight that was my phone. It had been off since the first checkpoint, the little information I’d received from these Removers told me I had to dispose of it, but something told me I would rather be found in the event of an emergency than have an emergency and no back-up plan.

I checked the printed maps laid out on the bed. It was almost a straight line of hikes and paths towards Saint Margaret’s on the coast, and although I couldn’t digitally trace the routes, I was confident. Enough.