Skull in the Wood Read Online Free Page B

I know you don’t get trains in the middle of Dartmoor. Especially not in the sky.
    I looked up, and saw several dark shapes flying past, way up high in the air. Geese, big ones, black against the moon. The beat of their wings grew louder, and they were honking away, or whatever it is geese do. It was sort of eerie. I watched them disappear into the night, feeling cold to my bone marrow. The sound held on the wind, growing higher and higher, then faded away.
    Everything was silent now – horribly, creepily silent in a way you never get in a city. I found myself missing the non-stop noise of London, wishing desperately that I was back there, even though it didn’t really feel like home any more now that Paul had moved in. Then a cloud passed over the moon, and suddenly I was in darkness. The rocks in front of me seemed to grow about ten feet. The path disappeared. I could hear myself breathing way too fast. What an idiot I was for not having brought a torch, I thought. With shaking fingers I held up my phone and its feeble light.
    It must have been a minute or two before the mooncleared and my heart rate slowed. I didn’t waste any time in heading back down the path, though I managed not to run. But I admit I wanted to, pretty badly.
    Uncle Jack was still on the sofa, dead to the world, and Tilda hadn’t come back yet. I tried to have a bath in the freezing bathroom upstairs, but the water ran cold before it reached about ten centimetres. In the end I gave up and sloped off to bed. To be honest, I was totally done in.
    Even though I’d turned my nose up at it earlier, I was quite glad of the crochet cover because it was freezing in my room too. There was an ancient radiator but it didn’t seem to be pumping out any heat. In the end I put my socks back on, and a jumper over my pyjamas. I lay there shivering for a while, listening to the sounds outside. First an owl – I’d never heard a real one before but you can’t mistake it. Then something flying over, making a huge racket – a sort of low honking bark. More geese, I supposed, like the ones I’d just seen up on the tor. That, or a huge pack of flying dogs. Everything was blurring together now. And in seconds I was asleep.

4

    Tilda
    A Sunday’s no different on a farm – you still have to get up and feed the animals, but that obviously hadn’t occurred to Matt. His door was firmly shut. Making sure of his beauty sleep , I thought crossly. I gave Jez her food and a bit of a cuddle. Then I put out mash for the chickies and wheat for the geese, and changed their water and saw to the puppies. Finally I came back inside to get the breakfast ready.
    It’s times like this when I really miss Mum. She used to cook us bacon and eggs on Sundays, sometimes with pancakes and maple syrup. There was always a fire in the grate and Radio 4 in thebackground, and she’d make a point of taking us out on nature walks even though Dad usually had to do stuff on the farm. Since she died, a lot of that’s been up to me, and I’m not much good at any of it. Dad says I am, but I know he’s just trying to make me feel all right.
    Anyway, I thought I’d impress him and scramble some eggs. Some of the hens are still laying well, even though it’s nearly November now. I sell quite a few at the farm gate when we have a glut, to make a bit of extra pocket money, along with sweet peas in the summer – Mum’s favourite. I wished she could have seen them this year. But then, I wished a lot of stuff, all the time. I wished she’d stayed home that day of the accident. Nothing was fair. The worst thing of all was that I was finding it harder and harder to remember her face any more. But it was no use feeling sorry for myself – I had to be strong for Dad and Kitty.
    This morning Kitty was eager-beavering away in the kitchen and she helped me get everything ready. Then Dad came in, starving as usual because