Janine couldn’t understand why anyone liked the country. It looked pretty enough from a distance. Okay from a car with the windows shut and the air con on; even better from a plane. Yesterday her mother had pointed out a pale pink garden rose and Janine had to admit that it looked beautiful – until she peered closer. Then she could see the hundreds of gross, black bugs nestling within the petals, and she’d had to run for the shower and scrub herself from hea\d to toe. The thought that any of those hideous insects had touched her skin made her flesh creep. But it wasn’t just the wildlife.
In town you could see things changing. Buildings went up, shop windows changed, streets were resurfaced, and you could watch it all happening. Here she was surrounded by things that grew silently and invisibly. You couldn’t actually watch leaves unfurl or hear new shoots pushing through the soil, but unfurl and push they did. The landscape could be transformed overnight and nobody would have seen or heard a thing. Janine imagined a huge, pulsating, underground organism propelling plants upward and spewing disgusting insects.
Last night had been a nightmare, literally. She’d stuffed every crack in the window frames with toilet paper, sprayed her room with fly spray an hour before she went to bed and covered herself with insect repellent after her shower. Even then, with the duvet over her head she’d dreamed of branches and brambles entwining her arms and legs, and dragging her down into the soil ready to be decomposed and transformed into new green growth, or, horror of horrors, bugs, beetles or worms. She couldn’t spend another night here.
The trouble was that in this godforsaken valley in the North Yorkshire Moors she couldn’t get a signal on her mobile. If she could just get to the top of the hill opposite, she might be able to call her best friend and plead to be rescued. Maybe if she covered herself from head to foot and kept to the middle of the lane away from the undergrowth, she could manage it.
Wearing almost everything she’d brought with her including socks, hiking boots, two long sleeved tee shirts, sun hat and scarf over her hair, she borrowed some gardening gloves and set off.
‘Just going for a walk,’ she called. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘Oh good,’ replied her mother. ‘Whatever have you got on?’
‘Don’t want to get bitten.’
Her mother sighed. At least Janine was getting something out of the holiday at last. She didn’t know what was wrong with her daughter, but that was teenagers for you.
Janine was doing well. She was keeping to the center of the lane and the top of the hill was growing closer all the time. Suddenly a car rounded the bend in front of her at speed and she had no option but to dive for the hedge.
As she struggled to get up, she realized that her right foot was caught in brambles and the more she tried to free herself the more entangled she became. Already something had crawled between her leggings and sock and was biting her furiously. Her hat had come off, her scarf had slipped and insects were buzzing around her face and getting in her hair. As she tried to bat them away she lost her gloves and her hands were scratched by hawthorn. She could feel things crawling between the top of her leggings and tee shirts. Her whole body itched. She imagined she was being eaten alive and it was all she could do to stop herself screaming. There was a slight breeze, and Janine looked up to see branches moving above her. Drenched in sweat, she knew that just like her dream, they were coming for her.
Two days later a couple of farming cronies met in the local pub for their usual evening pint.
‘You hear owt about that lass you found?’
‘The one on Grace Lane?’
‘Aye.’
‘Gone home I think.’ They both took a sup.
‘What was wrong with her anyway?’
‘D’know. Summat spooked her.’
‘Probably seen a sheep.’
