There wasn't another light to be seen that way apart from a faint green glow as a tiny boat puttered its way eastwards some way off-shore. In fact the only lights they could see were those of Stiffkey — "Stoo-key" Krysta had told Madeleine it was pronounced — a small village a couple of miles away.The sails of the mill were still. They seemed regretful, Madeleine thought, saddened that they weren't slicing through the wind. The wind, however, seemed to be slicing through her coat with no difficulty whatsoever. "It's wonderful. But its cold," Madeleine said. "Let's go back in." Fair enough," said Krysta as she led the way inside. "But it is fantastic isn't it. Tell me you love it."A few minutes later they were in the warm. Pump Cottage, a small brick and flint, tile roofed, building was tucked in beside the great brick tower of the pump. The living room was small but cosy. The kitchen led straight off it, built as an afterthought on the back of the building. Beside that another room. I saw no clear opening and passed it back to Annette, who jumped higher than I had ever seen her jump before. My pass to her was just marginally inside our side of the net, and when Annette hit it, the resounding thwack as it shot into the Sir John's open spot and bounced off the floor raised cheers from all around. Her strike had such force behind it that the ricochet off the floor sent it sailing into the stands! That set the tempo for the game.It was a long game. While we kept the upper hand, our opponents managed to keep us blocked for many of our attempts to spike. More than a few times, we actually had to volley the ball back or risk a penalty for too many touches on the ball on our side. The first game ended 25 - 9, and we had a short breather. Damn. These girls were good. If not for the Saints, they probably would have been this year's National champs. But... we were here, through fate or through the grace or design of the Goddess, and we were going to win the next game.For a.
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