Blood Harvest - By S. J. Bolton Page 0,7

same time, find a place for her.’

Silence. The tissues had fallen to the floor and Gillian’s arms were crossed tightly in front of her. It wasn’t quite the reaction Evi had been hoping for.

‘Gillian?’

‘You’re going to hate me for saying this,’ said Gillian, who was starting to shake her head. ‘But sometimes, I wish …’

‘What do you wish?’ asked Evi, realizing that for the first time since she’d met Gillian, she really didn’t know what the girl’s answer was going to be.

‘That she’d just leave me in peace.’

3

THE SLEEPING CHILD HAD SOFT PALE HAIR, THE COLOUR OF spun sugar. She lay in her buggy, fast asleep in the sunshine. A fine-mesh net was stretched tight across the buggy, from top to bottom, protecting her from insects and from anything else that might be scurrying about the garden. A damp curl clung to her plump cheek. Her fist was pressed against her mouth, the thumb sticking out at right angles, as though she’d fallen asleep sucking her thumb before a thought in a dream made her spit it out. Her tummy rose and fell, rose and fell.

Somewhere around two years old. Legs still plump enough to toddle, lips just beginning to form words. Her eyes, when open, would have the trusting innocence of the freshly made person. She hadn’t learned yet that people could hurt.

A bubble of saliva formed in the gap between her tiny pink lips. It disappeared then formed itself again. The child sighed and the bubble broke on the air. And the sound seemed to travel through the still September morning.

Ah, da da da,’ muttered the girl, in her sleep.

She was just beautiful. Exactly like the others.

4

JOE JUMPED UP AND RAN. WITHOUT THINKING, TOM FOLLOWED and the two boys sped up the steps and through the open church door. Tom caught a glimpse of the fair-haired man ahead, getting closer to the altar, and then Joe dived behind the back pew. Tom did the same.

The flags on the floor were dusty. Beneath the pews Tom could see cobwebs, some complete and perfect, others torn up and festooned with the corpses of long-dead flies. The tapestry prayer-cushions were hanging neatly from hooks.

‘He’s saying his prayers,’ whispered Joe, who was peering over the top of the pew. Tom pushed himself up. The man in shorts was kneeling at the altar steps, his elbows resting on the rail, looking up at the large stained-glass window on the front wall of the church. He did look like he was praying.

A sudden noise outside made Tom look round. The church door was open and he caught a glimpse of a figure running past outside. Jake and his gang were still out there, waiting. A sudden tug pulled him down below the rim of the pew.

‘He’s heard something,’ whispered Joe.

The boys hadn’t made any noise that Tom had been aware of, but he felt a stab of alarm. If the man found them, he might order them outside, where Jake and the others were waiting. Joe had risked raising his head again. Tom did the same. Shorts Man hadn’t moved but he wasn’t praying any more, that much was clear. His head was upright and his body had stiffened. He was listening. Then he stood up and turned round. Joe and Tom ducked so quickly they banged their heads together. Now they were for it. They were in church without permission and, to all intents and purposes, they’d broken a window.

‘Who’s there?’ called the man, sounding puzzled but not cross. ‘Hello,’ he called. His voice carried easily to the back of the church.

Tom tried to stand up. ‘No!’ hissed his brother, clinging to him. ‘He doesn’t mean us.’

‘Of course he means us,’ Tom hissed back. ‘There’s no one else here.’

Joe didn’t answer, just gingerly lifted his head, like a soldier peering out over a parapet. He glanced down and nodded at Tom to do the same. Shorts Man was walking slowly towards a door to the right of the altar. He reached for the handle and pulled it open. Then he stood in the doorway, looking into the room.

‘I know you’re in there,’ he called, like a parent playing hide and seek. He was northern, but not from Lancashire, or Yorkshire just over the border. Further north, Tom guessed, maybe Newcastle.

Tom raised his hands and did his ‘What?’ face at Joe. There were three people in this church and they were two of them.

‘Are you going to come out and say hello?’ said the

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