trees are no good for climbing, anyone could tell you that. They don’t grow that tall and their branches don’t get thick enough. But this tree had just one strong branch that hung out over the Fletchers’ garden. If Tom was careful, if he didn’t worry about a few scratches, he could make his way on to it.
He had about ten, fifteen minutes. His mother thought he was doing homework and she’d warned Joe and Millie not to come near him. Fifteen minutes might be enough.
Climbing up, Tom was shocked to discover how much of his house could be seen from the tree. He could see Joe crawling along the back of the sofa with his machine gun tucked under his arm. Tom could even see quite a lot of the upstairs rooms too. There was his mum in the bathroom, reaching into the cupboard for one of Millie’s nappies. All of which made him wonder. Did she sit here, on this branch, watching them? Yew trees never lose their leaves. Tucked up in here, if she kept still, she could watch his family for hours and they’d never know.
Round his neck, tucked into his sweatshirt to keep it safe, he had his dad’s digital camera. He knew how to set the flash, how to focus and how to zoom in and out. He’d practised all yesterday evening, taking pictures of Millie dancing around the living room, and then his dad had showed him how to download them on to the computer. Tom was going to wait until the little girl appeared and take photographs. As many as he could. And then they’d have to believe him. If he could show them pictures they’d know he’d been telling the truth. That he wasn’t mad. Best of all, he’d know he wasn’t mad.
In a couple of hours it could all be over.
45
‘SO WHAT’S THE PLAN, REVEREND? KICK OFF WITH SOME voodoo rites before a spot of ritual sacrifice, quick break for a hot-dog and then zombies rising around midnight?’
‘I don’t think you’re taking this seriously,’ replied Harry, guiding Evi round two girls who were clinging to each other in the middle of the road. One of them had the glassy-eyed look of the seriously intoxicated. Ahead of them a pink and green firework exploded in the sky. For a second, he could see the sparks reflected in the clouds. Then darkness again.
‘Am too,’ said Evi. ‘I did a project in my first year on crowd psychology. I love seeing it in action.’
A boy in his late teens appeared from one of Heptonclough’s numerous stone alleyways and lurched towards them. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. ‘Godda light?’ he enquired, before looking into Harry’s face. ‘Oh, sorry, vicar.’ He stumbled away down the hill. Evi gave a soft laugh.
The town was more crowded than Harry had seen it before and he’d been forced to park almost a quarter of a mile down the hill. He’d offered to drop Evi off at the church, so that she could wait for him on the shepherds’ bench, but she’d refused and now they’d joined the others who were walking up the hill towards the bonfire field. The night was heavy with the smell of gunpowder and wood smoke.
Every few seconds, people who were able to move faster passed them. Most turned to nod, wish Harry good evening and stare curiously at Evi. And he really didn’t blame them. In a dark-blue quilted coat the exact colour of her eyes and a matching hat, she might just be the prettiest girl any of them had seen in a long time.
‘What are your professional observations so far?’ he asked.
Evi stretched her neck to look round, then peered up at him. ‘Everything you might expect,’ she said. ‘Kids are excited, so they’re playing up. That makes the parents a bit tetchy – they’re scared of losing them in the dark, so they’ll be over-protective, a bit anxious. That’ll manifest itself as bad temper.’
There was that tiny freckle again, just below her right ear.
‘The older kids will be drinking more than usual,’ she went on. ‘Those old enough to get away with it will be in the pub. The younger ones will have bottles of cider tucked away in dark corners. There’s potential for arguments, even violence, but probably not for another couple of hours.’
If he kissed that freckle, he’d be able to feel the curve of her ear on his cheek, and her hair would tickle his