‘Midonia,’ comes Irena’s now familiar voice. She approaches from the next hut over, her cheeks pink with the morning’s chill, her eyes shining. ‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’
‘Yep, great.’ What am I going to tell her, that I had a waking nightmare? That the shadow who’s haunted me all my life might actually be solid, be real? That I’m dying to get away from this place and their so-called worships? Everyone deserves a place to feel safe, to practice what they truly believe in, but I want no part of it.
‘Will you be staying for breakfast?’
‘Sorry, Irena. As soon as I get my clothes back, I’m out.’
‘Of course,’ she replies, congenial, gentle.
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. Around us, the village is waking. Laughter drifts out from the dining hall, along with it the smell of cooking fires and fresh bread. Some of the sisters are already out andabout, some coming in from the woods and carrying baskets. Others make their way to the dining hall.
‘So,’ I say at last. ‘My clothes?’
Irena raises her eyebrows.
‘Where are they?’
‘With the rest of the laundry.’
‘And the laundry is … where?’
Irena points. I follow the direction of her gaze, and land on a sister in white, carrying a lumpy, dripping sack away from the river. The laundry.
‘Irena.’ I try to keep my voice steady, free of complaint. ‘You knew I was only staying for one night.’
She pats my arm. ‘It will only take a few hours to dry. It will be hung over the fire, and your clothes will be ready by the afternoon.’
I consider going along with this. But the memory of that shadowy presence in my room, clings to me like a possession. I can’t shake it. I can’t shakehim.
‘Can I get my boots and jacket, then?’ I ask, relieved that I don’t sound as anxious as I feel. ‘I can’t hang around all day, I have another job lined up.’
Irena’s brows push together. ‘Another job?’
‘Yep.’ It’s an easy lie. ‘And I really can’t afford to be late for this one. So, can I at least get my boots and jacket?’
‘Why did you not tell us earlier?’ Irena asks, apology written all over her face. ‘Had I known you were in ahurry …’ she shrugs, holding out her hands as if there’s nothing she can do.
Frustration fizzes in my chest. ‘I didn’t tell you because I just got the gig. I couldn’t sleep, so I checked on my ship around dawn. Got a ping from my boss. I have to get to the pickup point by 1200 hours.’
She tilts her head, holding my gaze like she’s trying to read the inside of my skull. ‘You were up at dawn?’
‘Yes.’
‘You received a ping from your boss at that time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well then,’ she says, ‘you’d better be going.’
‘Myboots,’ I prompt, with growing impatience. ‘And my jacket?’
She smiles sadly. ‘In the laundry.’
‘In the laun–? Those areleather, Irena. You’re ruining …’ I take a deep breath. In, then out. There’s no point in losing my temper now, not when there’s nothing to be done. ‘Okay. That’s fine.’ I turn on my heel, still dressed in my ridiculous white getup, and make for my ship. I can curse to high heaven when I’m not in front of a damn client.
Irena trails behind me. When I get to the ship I shoot her a glance that clearly says,Please go away and leave me alone. She either doesn’t get the hint, or ignores it. She hovers there as I press in the code and wait for the boarding door to slide open.
Nothing happens.
