One Night Read Online Free Page B

boy!
There’s a good boy. C’mon Sticks.’
    Sticky, staggering determinedly, had
christened just about every leaf and twig he could reach. The dark of a late
autumn evening was threading towards us. Worried that he might wander into the
undergrowth and disappear, I bent down and heaved him into my arms.
    I’m not a big person but gymnastics
had strengthened me. Double bar, the horse, floor exercises. All that. Sticky
was a weight and I couldn’t see properly. I fixed my eyes on the cottage lights
and steadily planted one foot after the other.
    There was a sound.
    Direction was difficult to gauge but
Sticky heard it because he stiffened. His low growl rumbled in my arms. I looked
back into the black belly of the forest. There was nothing to see. The faint
throw of light from the cottage filtered to deep shadow against the trees.
Something rustled. The dark crept skyward like a stain.
    ‘Hello? Is someone there?’
    I felt a complete fool. The line of
that old song came into my head, I talk to the trees … There was a
scuffing sound, a gentle crack and a small branch tumbled to the ground. It
landed with hardly a sound in the undergrowth, ruffling some leaves.
    The tension in my back eased. It
was just the forest contracting naturally as night came on. I swung round and
headed for the cottage yard, my footsteps deliberately loud, Sticky bouncing in
my arms, his face turned to me in alarm.
    We stumbled inside. I dumped Sticky
on the couch and went to lock the back door. Then, despite my own scoffing, I
made sure I locked the front door. I saw a stout bolt and shot that home as
well. I left the outside lights on, both back and front. I stood in the middle
of the rug as though it was a small, sinking island. Alice Petting’s warnings
rattled in the room. I went upstairs, found my phone, copied her number in. Sometimes
a good memory is not so good.
    I recalled that particular day in the woods with Mona. A bright sky and a huge
sail of brilliant white cloud pressing cool light between the trees. We’d just
consumed a hefty lunch of roast chicken which Mona had cooked to perfection.
    ‘I don’t eat for three days before
I come up here,’ I said.
    ‘Don’t exaggerate.’
    ‘I swear. You are the best cook
this side of the Atlantic.’
    She laughed, a lovely trilling
sound that always reminded me of an Edwardian garden party – silvery,
delicately delivered. I laughed like a dockyard worker – throaty and
conspiratorial as though I’d just been told a dirty joke. I envied Mona her
style, her intelligence and education. In odd moments like this, I thought she
would be a better match for Stephen than me.
    In the midst of mentally pairing my
two best friends, I slipped on a stone and fell on all fours in a swathe of
leaves. The green, acrid scent of them made me dizzy. In a second, intensely, I
wanted to leave my old life and live here forever.
    Mona was giggling. ‘Are you all
right?’
    Something flew over my head, hit a
nearby tree with a resounding thwack and fell to earth.
    ‘Jeez!’ said Mona. ‘That was
close!’
    I stood up. ‘What was that?’
    She stepped through the foliage and
scrabbled around. ‘Bloody cricket ball!’
    ‘Somebody’s playing cricket? Here?’
    ‘No, it’s that Wally Bunting. We’re
too close to his property. He’s just warning us off.’
    ‘With a cricket ball?’
    ‘Last time he used a brick.’
    ‘Unpleasant customer.’
    I looked around but I couldn’t see
anyone.
    ‘Very unpleasant. He’s some sort of
recluse. A local hillbilly. Fixes cars and stuff. His baby brother, Matthew, is
in a place of restraint for the mentally deranged.’
    ‘Grief!’ I looked at her in horror.
‘And here was I thinking you spent your weekends in paradise!’
    ‘Apparently Wally Bunting has been really
off since his brother was put away. Very threatening if anybody goes near. I
think the whole thing unhinged him.’
    ‘Worse than before, you mean?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘Give me the