In the Shadow of Satellites Read Online Free Page B

talking, and I’m starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
    “What are you doing?” I ask, watching helplessly as Ana stands up and follows him off the deck and down onto the lawn.
    “Come on!” he grins. “Let’s go and offer Thor a beer. It’s about time we got acquainted, don’t you think?”
     

Chapter 4
     
     
    It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard, but there’s no stopping Chris when he’s on a roll. For once, I wish he’d just… not. I don’t want to meet my neighbour. I like the fact that we’re not on first-name terms, I like the invisible boundary line that separates us. I like the solitude, and I’m sure he feels the same way, or he’d have been over to say hi before now.
    Reluctantly, I follow them across the lawn. I’d forgotten how much these two were like a tag team. Chris was just being Chris, but I expected more from Ana.
    We make our way through the undergrowth and the tall native trees that divide the properties. Chris is whistling the Smurfs theme tune, which gives Ana a fit of the giggles. Both begin to annoy me, and I consider turning back and leaving them to it, but that feels weird too. I’m duty-bound to be civil, and that pisses me off no end. I have neither the patience nor the energy for this.
    “It’ll be fine. Just relax.”
    I hear James’s voice in my ear, and I imagine him walking behind me, calming me down. I try to concentrate on that, rather than the deep-seated desire to turn back to my sanctuary and leave them to it.
    The hammering gets louder, and the trees and ferns give way to the back of the dilapidated cottage, and a view of the lake. His bright orange tent is pitched off to the side, opening out to face the water. For a moment, I imagine what a beautiful view he must have when he wakes up in the morning. Like mine, only closer.
    A dog’s barking stops us in our tracks, and out of nowhere, a large black and tan German Shepherd appears. We all freeze. I had no idea he had a dog, certainly not one this big. It’s practically a wolf, at the very least a small horse.
    “Geezer!”
    The hammering stops, barely noticeable over the incessant barking.
    “Shitballs!” Ana squeals, hiding behind Chris.
    I edge behind her, just in case, as the barking continues. None of us move. No one is taking any chances.
    “Geezer!”
    The call is louder this time, harsher, and the barking stops. The dog sits, but it doesn’t take its eyes off us. I stand stock still, my heart racing, as the voice’s owner appears around the corner of the building.
    “That’s a hell of a guard dog you have there,” Chris says uneasily.
    I hang back behind Ana, watching from a safe distance as he approaches. Chris introduces himself, offering his hand.
    “Yeah, I guess he is,” he smiles, taking it.
    His voice is deep, and he speaks with a slow drawl that reminds me of honey and whisky, for some reason.
    “American,” Ana murmurs, reading my mind.
    He’s tall, much taller than Ana and I, and even taller than Chris, who’s at least six foot. Not only does he have the accent and the height, but he’s tanned to boot. He’s like some kind of movie star, and I struggle to place him in this environment. His short, slightly scruffy, mid-brown hair is tinged gold at the tips, bleached from the sun. He’s wearing a dark grey t-shirt with ‘Owls’ written in white, beneath a picture of an owl perched on what looks like a baseball bat. His cargo shorts are khaki and end just above his knees. He’d be the textbook definition of a California surfer if it wasn’t for his beard. It’s not like Chris’s, which is dark and slightly raggedy-looking. His is almost golden, like the tips of his hair, and well groomed, swallowing up much of his face. It’s his beard that makes his eyes stand out so clearly. Light blue, or maybe even green, they’re almost the same colour as the lake behind him. For a moment, I forget what we’re doing here.
    “Luke Lancaster,” he says to