Sarah awoke.
She was lying on a bed in pitch darkness.  She felt her temples. She had a pounding headache. Slowly the events of the late afternoon came flooding back. She raised herself to a sitting position. Almost without thinking she switched on the bedside light. Through the dim glow of the light bulb she could make out that she was back in the guest bedroom of Peter St. Owen’s country cottage.
A voice issued from the other end of the bed. It jolted Sarah’s confused thoughts.
“Sarah! You’re awake.”
The young woman recognized the voice of Hugh St. Owen.  He stood up and walked up to the head of the bed. Without thinking Sarah threw herself into his arms.
“Oh, Hugh!”
“Shhh! Shhh! Sarah, just rest,” Hugh St. Owen was all concern. He lifted up a drinking glass and offered it to her.
“Here,” he said, “Have a drink of water.”
Sarah seized the glass and drunk greedily. She felt a huge thirst. Probably the results of the chloroform she had been forced to breathe, she reflected.
Sarah handed the glass back to Hugh St. Owen. He put it down on the bedside table.
Sarah looked up at the handsome man.
“Hugh, what happened to me?  I know that Vivien…”
“We saw her follow you into the maze,” Hugh cut in, “So we trailed her, just in time to see my crazy brother David chloroform you and try to carry you out to God knows where. My grandfather was right behind me.” The young man paused. “They ran. We tried to give chase, but we were so concerned for you that they got away. We just couldn’t leave you there.”
Sarah nodded her head. She felt so weak.
“Thank you, Hugh,” she said. She looked around the room.
“How long have I been out?”
“About a couple of hours. It’s about seven o’clock in the evening.”
Sarah rose unsteadily to her feet.
“Then I’m still in time to enjoy your grandfather’s dinner.”
Hugh looked down at the lovely Sarah.
“You can’t be serious, Sarah,” he said, “You aren’t well enough to…”
Sarah raised a hand to Hugh’s full, red mouth.
“I will be fine, Hugh. I’ll take an aspirin for my headache. A good meal will do me a lot of good.”
She smiled and prepared to walk to the bathroom.
She turned back to look at the young stud and smiled.
“Besides, your grandfather has gone to a lot of trouble to prepare dinner for us. I leave tomorrow for London.”
Hugh St. Owen nodded his head.
“Very well, Sarah. I’ll go and tell grandfather to expect you. I happen to know that dinner will be ready within the hour.”
Sarah smiled at the young man once again and proceeded to the bathroom to perform her ablutions.
After taking a couple of aspirin and freshening up, Sarah felt ready to face the evening. She could hardly believe all the pain and suffering she had had to withstand in the last few weeks. All because she was interested in the history of the mysterious Saint Owen’s Abbey. But at least she had found the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. The thought of Hugh St. Owen’s taut, muscular body thrilled her whenever she thought about it. Even now, after a very nasty encounter with his evil brother and her equally evil stepmother. Love, it seemed to Sarah, still conquered all.
Sarah heaved a deep sigh of relief. She prepared herself for an entertaining meal.
Peter St. Owen and his grandson were pleased to receive her. The dinner was delightful. Sarah found much to her surprise, that she actually had an appetite. The stuffed Cornish hen that her host served as a main course was delicious. The hot piping fresh new potatoes and French peas were a real joy to the palate. Hugh St. Owen ate with relish, but always with one eye on the woman he had come to love so much. The heat of the wine and the warm, convivial company made Sarah’s lovely green eyes sparkle with joy.  Hugh St. Owen thought that she had never looked more beautiful than this very evening. Sarah lapped it up. She knew that she was the center of attention and, for once, she reveled in it.
The conversation was lively and invigorating.
Sarah leaned across the table and looked at her two friends.
“But where do you think Vivien and your brother would have taken me if they had got away with it in the maze?” said Sarah.
Peter St. Owen snorted and took a hasty sip of his wine.
“Certainly not the Abbey,” he answered, “Definitely not the Abbey.”
“Why not?” said Sarah, her beautiful eyes wide with surprise.
“Because the police would be crawling all around the place,” said the old man. “After your last encounter at the Abbey, that would be bottom of their list of kidnapping places.”
Hugh St. Owen looked at his grandfather and frowned.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong there, grandfather,” he said.
The old man put down his knife and fork. He turned to look at his grandson with a questioning gaze.
Hugh St. Owen looked quickly back at him and across the table at Sarah in the soft glow of the lamplight.
Sarah caught her breath as she looked back at the good-looking young man. Now what?
The handsome man licked his full, red lips.
“I…I don’t want to alarm either of you…” he began. He shifted uneasily in the dining room chair. His liquid brown eyes fixed themselves on the table.
“But?” Peter St. Owen’s eyes glued themselves on his grandson with a serious stare.
“Well, sir,” said Hugh St. Owen, “After I had gone in to the police station to give my account of the matter, Inspector Rice didn’t think it was appropriate to pursue any other leads, or lack of leads, concerning Saint Owen’s Abbey.”
“Why not?” asked his grandfather. His tone was sharp and impatient.
“Sir, the Inspector said they did not find anything of consequence at the Abbey when they searched the grounds.”
“The grounds!” exclaimed Sarah. She was finding this explanation very hard to believe. “The grounds?” she repeated. “Didn’t they go down the steps beneath the Abbey where we were imprisoned and tortured, Hugh?”
Hugh St. Owen shook his head.
“No, they did not. When they came to the door they said it wouldn’t budge. They didn’t believe that it had been opened in many years.”
Sarah shook her head in disbelief.
“Wouldn’t budge? She said.  She looked at the young man intently. “Hugh, we were able to open that door with no trouble at all.”
Hugh St. Owen nodded.
“Vivien again,” said the old man. “She has some kind of fiendish power, Sarah. We’ve got to get you out of Perris-on-Sea. Until this whole thing blows over you aren’t safe here.”
Sarah felt a chill run down her spine at Peter St. Owen’s words. It was true, she thought. She would never have a moment’s rest until she could rest up and feel safe from the ever-continuing threat of Vivien’s hatred and the secret of the Guardians of the Abbey.
“No wonder Inspector Rice didn’t believe me when I told him what had happened,” said Sarah. “He didn’t even make much of an effort to learn the truth.”
The two men nodded in agreement.  Sarah’s mouth turned down in disgust. Her dim view of the detective was rapidly becoming dimmer with every subsequent encounter.
After a while Sarah started to yawn.
“You’ve had quite an afternoon, young lady,” said Peter St. Owen, “You better get to bed, Sarah. You have a train to catch in the morning.”
Sarah rose, smiled and said good night to the two men. She walked to her bedroom, undressed and got into bed. In a few minutes there was a polite knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Sarah.
Hugh St. Owen walked slowly into the room.
“I just wanted to say goodnight, Sarah,” he said in a soft voice.
Sarah stared up into the brown, liquid eyes of her lover. He bent down and embraced Sarah in a strong but gentle masculine grip. Sarah felt her heart melt and her pulse race. But she was too tired to act on impulse.  Much as she would have liked to drag Hugh St. Owen onto the bed and let him have his way with her, she was a guest in his grandfather’s house.  Sarah gently pushed the young man away. It really pained her to do so.
Hugh smiled down at her and left the room. He would pick her up promptly at eight o’clock in the morning.
Sarah put her light out and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless exhausted sleep.
 

*************************************************************

Sarah was up with the lark the next morning. She felt fresh and bright after a surprisingly restful night. Unfortunately the weather was not in tune with her mood. A strong Welsh mist shrouded the trees and fields around the cottage. Visibility was bad and there was an unseasonable late spring nip in the air. To Sarah it felt like February rather than May.
She dressed quickly in a modest, navy blue woolen two-piece suit, and partook of a light breakfast with Peter St. Owen. She had packed a small suitcase. She didn’t want to travel with a lot of luggage. Anything that was an essential could be bought in London or sent for later.
Promptly at eight o’clock Hugh St. Owen drove up in his Morris Minor. The young man looked dapper in a close fitting two-piece suit. Sarah could not help but notice the bulge of his manhood straining against the confines of his tight trousers. He was wearing no undergarments as far as she could discern…
Sarah caught herself daydreaming. She thanked Peter St. Owen for his conscientious hospitality. She told him that it certainly went beyond the call of duty. Hugh St. Owen helped her into the front passenger seat of his car.  The old man waved goodbye to the couple and the cottage was very quickly swallowed up in the Welsh mist.
Sarah held onto Hugh St. Owen as he gingerly steered the car through the unseasonable gloom. Hugh explained to Sarah that he had got up and started driving almost half an hour before his usual time because of the misty weather.
The young man’s thigh ground into Sarah’s side. It served to heat up her inner thermostat even without the aid of the car heater, which Hugh had switched on full blast. Sarah moved her hand and cupped it over his bulging member.
Hugh St. Owen smiled and turned to Sarah.
“Not now, Sarah. It’s too distracting. I’m having trouble steering the car in this visibility.
Sarah removed her hand with an uncharacteristic smirk. There would be plenty of time for that when this mess was cleared up, she thought. Or at least she hoped there would be plenty of time for hanky panky.  Sarah leaned back in the car seat. Nothing was for sure in these really strange times…
The car slowly wended its way through the thick mist along the Perris-on-Sea promenade. The sea spray careened over the stone walls and Sarah could smell the strong scent of the wild, Irish Sea.
Finally they arrived at the small Perris-on-Sea railway station, almost with no time to spare. Hugh St. Owen had barely sat Sarah alone in a comfortable first class non-smoking compartment with her suitcase when the train whistle blew and the locomotive began to leave the stone gray platform. Sarah pulled down the small compartment window and cold, misty air rushed in. She had only time to thrust her head out of the window and give Hugh a swift kiss full on the mouth and then he was gone. The station abruptly disappeared from view in the Welsh mist.
Sarah hurriedly closed the train window and sat down. The train heater gave out a modicum of heat in the roomy compartment. The red-brown teak paneling and lovely sepia pictures of some foreign tropical land stared back at her from the overhead walls of the small room.
Sarah settled back for the ride.  She sank herself into the plush first class velvet seats. She knew that Marianne would be awaiting her at Euston Station in London. However, it was going to be a long journey.
“Tickets please!”
Sarah was jolted out of a pleasant doze by the ticket inspector sliding back the door of her compartment and entering.
Sarah felt around in her handbag as the inspector stood over her. She handed him the train ticket. He clipped it with his hole puncher and handed the ticket back to Sarah.
“Thank you miss,” he smiled. He was a middle-aged, gray-haired man with glasses, dressed in uniform and cap.
“Excuse me, inspector,” said Sarah,” What time do we get into Euston Station?”
The ticket inspector looked down at her in surprise.
“Euston Station, miss?”
Sarah looked up at him.
“Yes, Euston Station…in London.”
“I know where it is, miss. But I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“The electricity is out east of Perris. A lorry hit a power line in the mist. Trains to London have been cancelled today because of that and the bad weather. This train is traveling in the opposite direction. To Anglesey.”
“Anglesey!”  Sarah stood up hastily. “But I don’t want to go to Anglesey.”
The inspector looked at her in surprise, not knowing what to say.
Just at that moment the train began slowing down and Sarah could see that they were drawing into a small Welsh coastal railway station.
“We’re just arriving at Port Merrydd, miss,” said the ticket inspector, “Maybe you would like to get off here and get a taxi back to Perris, if one is available.”
The ticket inspector quickly left the compartment and the train glided to a rather abrupt halt at the station platform.
Sarah reached out for her suitcase and was just about to open the compartment door when something made her look up outside the window.
A familiar figure dressed in black was attempting to board the locomotive a couple of carriages down the train.
Sarah looked out in horror. It couldn’t be. But it was. There was no mistaking the spider-like form of the malevolent Vivien.
 
 
 

Sarah sank back as far as she could into her seat. This couldn’t be happening. How would her evil stepmother know that she was on this train? How was she able to board the locomotive at the next station so promptly? How could Sarah avoid a confrontation with the wicked Vivien Llewellyn? How could she warn Hugh St. Owen that her life might be in danger yet again? Why was she being trailed? What had she to do with the Druid’s curse that shrouded Saint Owen’s Abbey in its terrible secret? See the next exciting installment in Chapter 19 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse!

Read Chapter 19: Strangers on a Train
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