intent on trying not to slip on the treacherous cobbles. ‘Why couldn’t the snow have waited till I was safely home?’
All she could think of was her cosy fireside and a good strong brew of tea, and the thought made her press on. The snow seemed to be falling faster and thicker by the minute, and by the time she had left the town centre behind her, it was falling so densely that she could barely see a hand in front of her. She was lost in a silent white world, the only sound being the putt, putt, putt of the gas lamps as she hurried past them. The snow had now risen above her old leather boots, and her feet and the hem of her coarse calico skirt were sodden. Street lamps cast an eerie glow on the thick white carpet, making it sparkle as if it had been sprinkled with diamonds, but tonight, Molly could find no pleasure in the sight. All she wanted was the comfort of her little cottage and her feet immersed in a tin bowl full of nice hot water.
As she approached the Parish Church she decided to cut through the churchyard. There were those that feared the graveyard at night, but the dead held no fear for Molly. It was the living she worried about! There were some that would cut your throat for sixpence in these hard times, as she well knew. Besides, this short-cut could save at least five minutes from her journey and she regularly took it.
The gravestones leaned drunkenly towards her as she hurried as best she could along the pathway, and soon the gas lamps and the little light they cast faded away as the great yew trees that bordered the church surrounded her. It was hard to keep to the path here, and occasionally Molly stumbled on a rock buried beneath the snow, but she ploughed on.
When she finally reached the dark doorway to the church, she paused to catch her breath, leaning against the cold stone wall inside. The wind had picked up now and the yew trees swayed beneath their heavy weight of snow. Here and there, the scarlet berries on the holly bushes shone through, and it was as Molly stood watching them that a noise from the deeply recessed doorway came to her. It sounded almost like a moan, and suddenly nervous, she held her breath for what seemed like an eternity in case the sound should come again. After some time, Molly dared to breathe, chiding herself, ‘You’re goin’ soft in the head, gel, hearin’ noises as ain’t there. Why, you’ll be scared o’ yer own shadow next if you ain’t careful.’
Still unsettled despite her brave talk, she pushed herself from the wall and was just about to set off again when the noise came once more. Molly knew now that she hadn’t imagined it, and her heart began to thump painfully against her ribs. Her eyes sought about for someone to help her, but there was no one – nothing but the snow and the swaying yew trees that stood as silent witnesses to her distress. Even as she stood there, uncertain what to do, she heard the noise again, louder this time … much louder. Someone was in the doorway with her and, if Molly judged rightly, that someone was in great pain.
Chewing nervously on her lip, she stepped cautiously into the deeper darkness. ‘Is anyone there?’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded frightened. Her heart was thumping so loudly that she feared it would leap from her chest, but nevertheless she forced herself to stand there listening intently.
‘Help me … please.’ The voice that finally answered her was so weak that Molly had to strain her ears to hear it.
It was a woman’s voice and so, calling on every ounce of courage she had, Molly edged a few more timid steps towards it.
After the glare of the blinding snow it took her eyes some seconds to adjust to the blackness, but gradually as she peered into the shadows she saw a shape, right at the back of the porch. It appeared to be lying against the huge, heavy wooden doors of the church.
Cautiously she advanced, and as her eyes gradually became accustomed to the inky blackness, her fear was instantly replaced with compassion.
A young woman raised her hand imploringly towards her and without a moment’s hesitation Molly now dropped to her weary knees beside her. Realising at