The Intercessor by Miriam Davison - HTML preview

CHAPTER 4

I had fallen asleep quickly that night, as I had since I had moved here. I felt myself stirring from the fogginess of the dream world, to the sound of creaking, and the feeling of movement nearby. I turned sleepily, and jumped at the sight of a small, white haired, robust, old woman sitting in the rocking chair beside my bed, and rocking to and fro. Then she spoke.

'Well it’s about time deary, we really have a lot to do you know.'  'Who on earth are you?' I stammered. 'How did you get in here?' This was my first conversation of many with the previous owner Miss Hattie Gracefield.

‘I’ll make you a cup of tea Abigail, come down when you're ready.' She got up and left the room. I sat on the bed and rubbed my eyes. I was dreaming; I had to be. I was just about to lie down again when I heard the clinking sound of a spoon in a cup, wide awake now; I jumped out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown. As I went to leave the room, I made a last minute decision to grab the candlestick off the dressing table, then, armed with my weapon, I made my way downstairs.

As I cautiously edged my way into the kitchen, I saw Hattie sitting at the table with two cups in front of her; a milk jug and sugar bowl was set out as well.

'Well come and sit down! We have lots to do. I just pray you are a quick learner. For goodness sake, put that candlestick down, it would be useless on me anyway!' My mind refused to work, and my body took on a life of its own, as I walked over to the table and sat down.

'Right dear,’ Hattie said, as she poured the tea, and as I began to drink it, she said; 'Finish your tea then listen carefully, I have a lot to explain to you before you begin your lessons, and time is running short, I can feel it in my bones.' My mind woke up, I took in what she was saying but never uttered a word, and I stared at her rosy face, drank my tea, and listened.