Ch20: Stolen June 7th-12th

June 7th

“Remember, a smile is free to give away.”

I wake with my mother’s words in my ears. Jumping out of bed, I actually search the cottage for her, so clear was her voice. But I am still alone. The sofa is up against the door and the windows shut tight. No one is in here with me. The pain of being alone, truly and completely alone hits me properly for the first time and I crumple to the floor by the bathroom door, sobbing.

Day 7 of my captivity.

Why did this happen to me? All I wanted to do was clear my head, work my way through Chris and Gemma and get on with my life. Surely this can’t be it? There has to be a way to escape. There must be.

June 8th

Day 8 and I am still trapped.

I spend the day down on the pier. Yesterday was a rainy, windy day and after staying inside the cottage all afternoon I woke up feeling trapped. I watch the ferry come in from Aberdeen, and as soon as I judge it close enough, I jump to my feet, shouting and screaming, and waving my arms manically. No one comes to save me.

Using the biggest knife in the cottage I go up onto the hill and start to carve out my SOS sign. Using the knife is a slow process, and it takes me most of the day to do the ‘S’. I place the sections of sod back into place. I don’t want Ian to know what I’ve done. My plan is to uncover it only when a ferry or one of the fishing boats is going by.

I return to the cottage exhausted and famished. My hands are sore, my fingernails muddy and shredded from clawing the cut sections of sod from the ground. There’s a large blister on my right hand from using the knife. I’m going to have to figure out a better way of doing it for the other two letters.

June 9th

Day 9 and I’m still here.

After searching through the driftwood pile at the back of the cottage, I find a few sticks that might double as makeshift trowels. There’s a plaster covering the blister on my palm and a few spares in my pocket. Up on the hill I start work on the ‘O’.

Work goes faster today. My fingers still hurt from clawing at the soil yesterday and using the wood as tools makes everything easier. By the afternoon, I’m finished. The ferry goes by about seven. I’m hungry but don’t want to risk missing it. A light rain starts, and I fetch my red coat, zipping it up against the drizzle and wind.

The ferry finally emerges from between Mainland and Bressay. Working fast, I remove the sections of sod on my SOS sign. It doesn’t take me long, and the ferry is still a few miles north of my island. I rush down to the pier and look back at the sign. The mud is dark against the grass and flowers. I’m not sure how easy it is to see.

I’ve got the binoculars with me and I train them on the ferry as it gets closer. There’s no sign anyone’s seen anything. With the rain getting heavier there’s no one on the decks. Surely someone is looking out a window? Maybe if my sign has been spotted it’ll take time to notify coast guards and send a boat my way? I need to believe.

Once the ferry has passed by I hike back up the hill and replace the pieces of sod. With Ian due back any day now, I resolve to getting up first thing and trying again. Although I still have plenty of food, the coal is getting low. I’ll have to be careful and not overfill the aga.

June 10th

Day 10, I hate being so alone.

After setting my sign up for the returning ferry and eating breakfast, I return to the hill and replace the sod. There’s an ache in my chest and my emotions are threatening to overcome me. I honestly thought with one attempt, I’d have the coast guards here, searching for me. I hardly slept, waiting for banging on the door to announce their arrival and I’d be saved.

During the night there was a storm and the cottage is cold. I decide to start a fire in the fireplace for the first time. I arrange a bundle of small twigs and strike a match. The flame catches and then goes out. I try again from the other side of my arrangement. This time I cup my hands around my mouth and blow gently on the little flame. It grows and then dies again. I decide to go for overkill and light match after match and stuff them inside the twigs. They flare then die again. I look in the matchbox. I can’t do that too many times or I’ll end up with no matches.

Who would have thought starting a fire would be this hard? How did our ancestors manage? They were obviously smarter than me. I search around for anything that might help and end up taking the labels of the tins I’ve eaten from. I crumple them up and tuck them under the twigs and try lighting the fire again. This time I get lucky and the twigs catch. I wait until the fire seems to be established and carefully put a larger stick on top. I smile as I watch the flames lick the sides of the wood then start to consume the new addition.

I’m as smart as a caveman, and very happy about it. Dad would be amazed. He thinks I don’t have a practical bone in my body. When I’m saved I’ll tell him about starting the fire, make him proud of me.

The stormy weather the other day probably brought in more driftwood. Next task is to gather that wood. A small part of me doesn’t want to piss Ian off by slacking on the few duties I have here on the island, and I hate myself for thinking that way.

A benefit of going out and around the island is seeing the wildlife. Birds zoom by overhead, there seems to be a conveyor belt of them coming and going. Their noise keeps me company and after I’ve scoured the beaches for useful wood, I find myself by the tidal pool, surrounded by puffins.

“Hello Wally.” He comes up and lets me stroke his head. Another comes up and nuzzles me. Seems he’s been telling his friends I’m a nice human. I sit there as the afternoon turns towards evening surrounded by birds. I only leave when I see the ferry emerge from the sound between Lerwick and Bressay. Time to uncover my sign for the evening. My heart’s not really in it, though. Surely my SOS should have been seen already if it was visible to the boat? Where’s my rescue? Where are my heroes coming to save me from Ian?

June 11th

Day 11. Ian will be coming back soon. Either that or he’s leaving me here to starve. All I want to do is go home. I miss Mum and Dad so much it hurts. I made an SOS in the hill behind the cottage two days ago, and no one’s seen it yet. I think it doesn’t stand out enough. Maybe I should try lighting a fire by it.

June 12th

Day 12, so alone. :( Not sure when Ian will show up. I still have plenty of rice and pasta, but I’m almost out of cereal and I’m down to the flavours of soup that I don’t like. The bread is gone and there’s only a small amount of cheese left.

After a small bowl of cornflakes, I go up the hill and uncover the SOS for the morning ferry. No one has come to rescue me and I now think it’s not going to work. Maybe I need to make it bigger, make it stand out somehow. I have so few resources though, and I can’t think of anything that will help.

The ferry slips by without a miracle and I cover the sign back up. The sun is out, with only a few puffy clouds in the sky. I go to the pier and sit there, watching the sea. I find myself wishing Ian’s boat would come into view. I’m so alone, even his company would do.