Watching and Waiting

Watching and Waiting

Sarah flicked the lever down to turn left onto the dirt track leading
to Bracken Head tarn.. The comfortable ticking of the indicator fell
into easy harmony with the calming swish of the windscreen wipers. A
light drizzle was masking visibility on the country roads and she was
having to concentrate more than usual on her driving. The previous four
nights had been clear and dry. Typical that tonight of all nights
inclement weather should aid the dampening of her resolve.

Twice she had almost turned back. How easy it would be to slink back
to her sofa by the fire, her supermarket stand best seller and her
glass of friendly sparkling wine. She was beginning to regret not
bringing Kai her dog along for company. She felt this was something she
had to do alone. Maybe having the boisterous Rhodesian Ridgeback with
her would in some way effect the outcome. She felt a stirring of
anticipation, also one of gut knotting fear.

"Its only research" she told her self for the umpteenth time. "Its
just another story, and instead of sitting in some sterile Library you
are out in the wilds of nature doing an ordinary stint of research" but
it was so much more than that. So much more.

She pulled into a convenient stopping place and killed the lights and
wipers. The few feet of comforting amber glow was snuffed and sheer
impenetrable darkness blanketed the car. The blackness was so dense it
appeared to take form, had texture. The car displaced the night's mass
like a body in a bathtub, and the inky Blackness moved around the car
cushioning it like dyed cotton wool.

Lionel Richie and Diana Ross were belting out ' Endless love' She sat
for a few seconds, hesitant to turn the radio off "Two hearts. Two
hearts that beat as one" Tonight her sweet soprano voice didn't
synchronise itself with Diana's "Our lives have just begun" Slowly she
turned the dial and as Endless love faded out another of her senses was
deprived of stimulus. She reached forward to take her car keys out of
the ignition, and her hand froze on the key.

"What are you trying to prove Sarah? You don't have to do this" she
thought. Her thumb pressed forward on the twist of the key. The car
coughed and then fell silent. She briskly pulled the key out of the
ignition, grabbed her bag and got out of the car.

It was cold. The air was still, and leaves on the trees were silent
and motionless. No wind disturbed them. It was a cold, calm night. Her
breath a white-grey spectre that led the way down the rough path to the
water's edge.

She stood at the side of the tarn and peered out across the water. Her
eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, and as far as she could
tell she was perfectly alone in this place of shifting shadows. A place
that only belonged to people during daylight hours. At this time of
night it was the domain of inhabitants of the night. She had been
worried that the local night fishermen might be out indulging in their
nocturnal hobby, but need not have been concerned, she was alone with
the wildlife, and they seemed to be hiding.

Sarah spoke softly into the night. "Come on Rita show yourself girl.
Ready when you are."

She pulled her rolled sleeping bag out of the hold all she carried,
unzipped it to make a square and placed it on the ground. Later she
would be able to zip it back up and crawl inside it if she got really
cold. She sat on her square of quilted material and unscrewed the top
of her thermos full of home-made tomato and basil soup, she had added
extra cream to make it really thick and warming. She may be here all
night in which case at least she was going to have something hot and
tasty to sip.

Sarah was researching a story of local interest. Twenty years earlier
a family had come to Bracken head tarn, and a day out fishing had
turned to disaster. Brian Simmons was a big man. A big man with a big
temper. He and his wife Rita had a turbulent marriage and when he
didn't get his own way Brian turned to violence. On this occasion Brian
had drowned his wife and left his five-year-old daughter in the water
for dead. Some quirk of juvenile lungs and maybe a little stubborn
spirit had saved the child. Her mother hadn't been so lucky. Five hours
later a couple walking their dog had found the little girl sitting at
the waters edge. The child had been sitting in an ambulance when the
frogmen had brought to the surface the body of her dead mother. Her
father had been in the nearest pub getting drunk.

It was said that every year on the night of her death Rita Simmons 'The
Lady of the Tarn' was seen walking at the scene of her death. Many
reports were recorded from courting teenagers to night fishermen. Even
a local policeman had come forward after his retirement to say that
he'd seen the lady walk.

It was the twentieth Anniversary of Rita Simmon's death, and Sarah had
come to see for herself if the lady of the tarn would be making an
appearance. Sarah was scared, nervous, apprehensive and very excited.
She sat patiently drinking her soup and waiting.

She watched the bats flying. For hours it was the only movement around
the tarn. Every hour or so she would stand and walk a little to allow
the blood to circulate in her cold legs. She grew bored and wished that
she had bought a radio, but she had not wanted anything to distract her
from her purpose. The night was long and she was cold and tired and
beginning to think that Rita wasn't going to show.

Sarah had grown quite accustomed to the darkness, she could see
clearly once her night vision had attuned itself to the changes in
image. She was eventually aware of the merest hue of dark grey infusing
with the blackness. She stared at the water and as the grey gradually
lightened. She willed Rita to come. Opened her mind, did her utmost to
make herself receptive. She prayed, focused her thoughts, and even
chanted Rita's name over and over again. Eventually she was almost
crying with frustration.

"Why hadn't she come?"

Sarah had to admit that it was morning. Her vigil was over. The first
duck roused from sleep startled her as it flapped out from the
bulrushes on the other side of the tarn in a flurry. Birds began to
sing, and morning had well and truly broken.

She stood and packed her bag. Sadly she took one last look out over the
peaceful water

"You appeared to others. Why not to me? Why not to me?"

She turned from the water and made her way down the path.

The barely perceptible image moved out from between the trees. Anyone
looking at the lady would have been devastated by the look of sheer
sadness on the woman's face
The tall lady in the grey jersey dress stretched out her hand and
whispered her daughter's name. It carried clearly across the
water.

Sarah Simmons was already in her car with the radio on and the heater
whirring by the time her name reached the car. She never heard her
mother's call.