Whispers in the Village Read Online Free Page B

footpath towards the woods.
    She heard their voices long before she saw them. Twinkling, happy sounds interrupted by the deeper, well-rounded voice of a man.
    Anna came upon the voices in a clearing. It was Gilbert Johns, the choirmaster, and four children. ‘Hi, Gilbert.’ She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. ‘Are all of these yours?’
    Gilbert had been brushing someone down who’d obviously taken a fall on the wettest part of the ground. He looked up. ‘Hello there. Yes, I lay claim to them all.’
    Standing in the clearing, with the sun finding its way between the branches, Gilbert smiled. He wasn’t dressed as choirmasters ought to be. He wore navy shorts with a turquoise short-sleeved shirt open, displaying his manly hairy chest. His brown hair, suddenly teased by a gust of wind, blew over his eyes and he had to push it away with his spare hand, the other still holding the boy who’d fallen in the mud. His brown eyes looked amused. ‘More washing!’
    ‘You must have mountains of washing.’
    ‘Thank heavens that’s Louise’s domain. She’s gone home with the baby and I’m keeping them healthy and busy while she sees to lunch. Music OK this morning? Mrs Peel told me she enjoyed “Yellow Submarine”.’
    ‘Oh! Fine, absolutely fine. How are you with “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot?”’
    Gilbert looked startled. ‘OK. Are you thinking of trying it?’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘No reason at all.’ Gilbert kept his own feelings under wraps. He was a great believer in ‘let’s wait and see’. ‘If you keep going on this path you eventually come out into Shepherd’s Hill and opposite you is the stile to Sykes Wood. Go through there and you come out in a while into Church Lane; turn left and you’ll soon be back in the village.’
    ‘Thanks. Is that where you’re going?’
    ‘No. Too far. We’ve already been a long way. We’re on our way back to the car. Enjoy.’ Gilbert gathered his four children together, waved cheerfully, told the children to say bye-bye to the rector and went on his way. She watched them disappear through the wood. He was a giant of a man, not because of his height, though he was tall, but because of his aura. There was something very attractive about him. Earthy, kind of. Right down to his manly sandals.
    Anna carried on walking, crossed the lane and then climbed over the ancient style and into Sykes Wood. Here the trees were different, closer and more huddled, with none of the sunlit openness of the first wood where she’d enjoyed lingering. She heard rustling in the trees, sounds of animals moving about, but what would they be? Not rabbits, nor badgers, nor foxes, not in the daytime; maybe squirrels, but there were none to be seen. It was the wind, she decided, which didn’t just ruffle the twigs but tossed them about so they thrashed against each other. The path wound on and on, and she wished it went straight as an arrow to the other side of the wood. Then she came to a clearing, a big clearing, with the remains of old fires here and there, and logs laid as though they’d been used for sitting round the fires.
    Anna wasn’t a person who believed in ghosts but briefly she did wonder again about ancestors and it caused her to hasten along. Before she knew it she was jogging and then running along the path. She tripped on a tree root, fell, picked herself up and ran on.
    Then, wham! She was out in the road, the sun on her face at last.
    She panted with relief, hands on thighs, pulling in the fresh, unthreatening air as rapidly as she could.
    A car pulled up. ‘Anna! Want a lift?’
    It was someone from church but she couldn’t recollect the name. She’d seen him only this morning.
    ‘Thanks, but no. I’m fine.’
    ‘Been in Sykes Wood?’
    ‘Yes. Found it a bit oppressive.’
    ‘Well, that’s one way to describe it. Most of us avoid it completely. If I can’t give you a lift I’ll be on my way. Bye.’
    ‘Bye.’
    The Rolls purred away. Now who was