- fully
amble
flier
brine
weigh
hefty
venom
zesty
Sarah has been invited by a friend to stay with Mr and Mrs Flier to celebrate New Year. They live in Tump House, a large old property in a country area, situated on a tump (a small hillock, maybe a tumulus) and surrounded by low farmland. The friend unexpectedly departs, leaving Sarah with people who are virtually strangers, but very friendly strangers. On January 2nd, Ada, one of the other guests, maybe a relative of the hosts, suggests they go out for a walk, despite the wintry conditions. Another guest Matty, tries to dissuade Sarah, but somehow she ends up out in the miserable afternoon, on the walk round the tump. Ada seems somewhat eccentric, and as the weather deteriorates, Sarah accidentally steps in a ditch of icy water.
Here is the next and final part:
Why? Why did I follow Ada, why didn’t I say I was taking my soggy socks, sturdy boots and frozen foot back to the house?
I could hear her talking, but not what she was saying, I think she was telling me about the area – she would fling her arm out and I could hear her voice floating back through the sleety drizzle.
We were certainly circling the tump but I had no idea how far we had come in the fading January afternoon and no idea far how yet we had to tramp, or in my case squelch.
We came to another style and to my alarm, Ada didn’t clamber over but vaulted the wooden fence beside it – and disappeared!
I rushed forward, slithering on the now snow covered ground and peered over the fence – and Ada had vanished!
In a pointless way I screamed for help and clambered – carefully – clambered over the style. I saw that Ada wasn’t submerged in the ditch but had slithered down the slight slope.
I should have mentioned earlier that Ada was a somewhat large person but I was bracing myself to try and rescue her when I heard a welcome shout and Matty appeared in proper winter gear.
“I said you didn’t want to go, Sarah!”
***
Back at Tump House, Ada whisked away for a hot bath and me in thick socks and warm slippers toasting myself in front of the Aga with a glass of Henry Flier’s whisky-all-in, his wife Jane apologised again that no-one had stopped Ada taking me out.
It was the most exciting thing which had happened to me for a long time, I exclaimed, a slight exaggeration, but not much. I thanked Matty again for rescuing Ada – and me, and he gave me a cheery wink.
“I’m heading back to Bristol tomorrow, can I give you a lift?” he asked.
Well, I have to say, that sounded a grand idea, and I gladly accepted. Strange start to a new year, and certainly not one easily forgotten.
Lois Elsden 