Coombe's Wood (14 page)

“Dead wood falling?”

They fell in, soaking the seats and dripping noisily into the foot wells. They both locked their doors, grinning like nervous fools as she ground the car into first.

She drove fast. The rest of the road ran almost straight. She flicked the highbeams on, concentrating on the lane as it rushed into the light.

“What do you think the noise was?” Connor asked. “Did you think there’s something out in the woods?”

Connor sounded almost hopeful, like they might catch a glimpse of John Coombe’s ghost. Maybe he was searching for the eyes hiding between and behind the trees. The more she thought about those words, the scribbles on his wall, the more it stopped making sense. What danger would discorporeal eyes be?

“Honestly?”

“Yeah
…
”

“Something put my nerves on edge, like – something was coming through the woods towards us.” She drove out of the woods, and indicated into Briar Lane.

“You were scared.”

“Yes. Actually, I was,” she said, wondering whether she should be saying this to him. She pulled into a space in front of the flats.

“I knew it! I knew you were scared!” Connor slapped his wet thigh. “Do you
really
think a creature was out in the woods?
”
He laughed. “There wasn’t anything huge and monster-like, just dead trees falling over. Oh, and here’s one thing you don’t know,” Connor leaned over conspiratorially, “The kids at school camp out in Coombe’s Wood all the time.”

Izzy stared at him.

“You never mentioned this before.”

“Yeah, well
…
” Connor shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if they were really telling the truth.”

“It’s those kids in our street, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they say, exactly? Come on!”

“They just – well, someone was saying the only place to get away from their family is the woods, and they spread all those scare stories just to keep people out, and – and, actually, they asked me to go and meet them there tonight.”

“You mean – they dared you? When did all this happen?”

“Yesterday.” Connor looked back behind the car. “I – I said I would, but it was just to see what would happen.”

Izzy laughed. “What did they say?”

Connor grinned again. “They said whoever turns up last gets barbecued.”

The log lay amongst a thick rash of weeds growing in the ditch, almost submerged in the green tangle. Bushes had half fallen off the slope of the ditch. Something sniffed the fallen tree and then the air, in the manner of one who had missed out
.
It glanced up and down the road for a last time before turning back into the woods.

“I am absolutely soaked.” Connor held his arms out and away from his body. With his legs bent he started up the stairs.

“Oi! Look behind you.” Laughing, Izzy pointed to a slug-like trail on the steps.

Connor glared over his shoulder, and clomped off. Each footfall squelched, and Izzy laughed harder.

“What a night!” she said.

“Just open up, I’m freezing.”

She unlocked the door, snatching a quick glance at Feathers’ door before entering the flat after Connor.

“Straight to the kitchen, please, love. And don’t soak all the rugs.”

“You’re going to make me strip in there?” He gaped, and took a step back towards his room.

“It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked.” She pushed him across the hall. “You can keep your undies on and I promise to face the wall. Oh, and don’t forget to tell me when you’re finished.”

She waited in the hall, cold and wet, while Connor struggled out of his clothing.

“Done yet?”

“Don’t turn around!”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

Connor’s door slammed, and Izzy dared to peek. She undressed quickly, shivering as she added to the pile. A puddle grew slowly around the clothes, and dressed in only her bra and knickers, she ran from the kitchen and into the bathroom.

The image in the mirror startled her for an instant. Scuffs of green moss, like war paint, ran down the sides of her cheeks. Her hands were worse. She put the plug in the sink and ran the taps.

Izzy splashed warm water on her face, and scrubbed at her hands, taking a few minutes to pick out the dirt from under her fingernails. Her palms were left glowing pink, tender. She flexed her fingers for a moment, and then grabbed her dressing gown off the back of the door.

Izzy went back to the kitchen and threw the clothes in the was
hing machine, mopped up the puddle with a tea towel and chucked that in as well. She started the cycle, and set about filling and boiling the kettle. After she’d set the mugs out, and taken the container of tea bags from the cabinet, she noticed the window.

The curtains hung as she’d arranged them that morning, leaving a black square of night peering in at her. She closed them, but not before a sense of being watched came over her. Feeling silly, Izzy flipped off the light and tiptoed back across the room. She peeked between the curtains and out onto the street below. The streetlamps coated the ground with a harsh yellow light. Nothing moved, not even a bat swooped by. Maybe Joseph lurked behind the apple tree in Mr Smith’s front garden. The kettle frothed and bubbled, clicking off as the water reached full boil.

“Mum?”

Connor spoke directly behind her. The edge of the fabric
dropped from her fingers, and she spun around.

“What
are
you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Izzy walked around him, and switched the lights back on. She checked that the curtains were properly closed before going back to the counter. “Thought I heard something. Cuppa?”

“Nah.” He slumped down on one of the chairs and stared curiously at the window. “It’s a flipping mess in the living room. When’s it going to be finished?”

“Sorry about that. Feathers and I were shattered after stripping the first two walls.” She returned to the window, and peered between the curtain and the wall. “If the mess annoys you so much, you could try helping. I couldn’t close my fist properly, let alone scoop up the rubbish by the end of the day.”

“The wallpaper was fine. Should have left it as it was. Besides, I bet it’ll take you weeks to finish, and where am I supposed to relax? Fucking mess, this place.”

“Connor!”

“Sorry.” He crossed his legs and scowled, his eyes on the linoleum.

“I’ve still got to strip the other two walls. Give me a couple of days and we can move back in,” she explained slowly, carefully. “The paper’s not peeling off like in your room.”

Nor are there caveman drawings and cryptic poems hidden underneath, she thought.

Why did teens have these sudden mood swings? She’d been lucky with Connor. He was cheerful and entertaining most of the time. He slipped into these funks a few times a year. Maybe this was a precursor, and by the time he turned fifteen, she’d be regretting ever saying his teen years had passed uneventfully. But tonight, she didn’t have the energy to deal with one of his recalcitrant moods.

Connor slouched on the wooden chair and pinched the top button on his pyjamas between his fingers, flip-flopped it, and moved onto the one below. The chair creaked as he shifted around. The sighs were irritating, though. She could take the abuse, the sullen expressions meant only for her. But when he sighed, or, to be more exact, took in a lungful of air, only to release
it in an explosion of exhalation, she tired very quickly
. Another blast of air belted out behind her, followed by what seemed to be an overly obvious and repeated shifting about on the kitchen chair.

“Isn’t your tea over-brewing?”

“
Merde
. I forgot all about it.”

Her back to him, Izzy squished the tea bag around her mug. There was a collapsing sound onto the table followed by a prolonged groan.

“That’s enough!”

She turned, clutching the corner of a steaming tea bag between finger and thumb. Connor raised his head from the table.

“To your room,” she said, wet tea bag pointing the way. “Go on. Lie on your bed, read. Hey, maybe you could even do some homework.”

“What did I do?” He crossed his arms and stood up.

“I realise that losing the living room for a few days is an inconvenience, but having you bleat on, when you could pick up a scraper and help a little, is really annoying.” Her teabag swayed as she spoke. “Anyway, what made you so grumpy?”

“Nothing,” he grunted.

“Then why are you glaring at me?” She chucked the teabag. It bounced off the tiles and into the bin. Now she had to clean the wall. She turned to get the milk.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, pouring milk.

“How can you tell? Your back’s to me.”

“Mothers are psychic. I’ve told you that.” She smiled into her tea as she stirred.

“I’m not five any more, Mum.” He shoved the chair out of the way too hard, and the wooden legs screeched across the floor. She glanced over her shoulder to see Connor throwing the door to the kitchen open, hunched and
frown
ing.

“Why don’t you drag your knuckles on the ground while you’re turning Neanderthal,” she called.

He muttered some jibe about scaring him in the woods, and slammed his door closed. They were both tired from their adventure in the rain. Perhaps she was a little grumpy, as well.

Izzy splashed more milk into her mug, still thinking about Connor, the fallen tree in the lane, and strange noises, which now she came to think of it, could have been those schoolboys trying to scare Connor - why hadn’t she thought of that? A knock halted her stirring. Maybe Kyle and Ritchie were out there, camping in the woods and playing pranks on them. She dropped the spoon and went to the door.

“Feathers!” She stood back from the peephole, and half-opened the door. “Oh, Christ. Sorry, I forgot
…
You wouldn’t believe my night.” She pulled the terry belt on her dressing gown tighter, and tried to smooth her hair. The curls haloed around her head, and refused to be controlled.

“Hi,” he said. “It’s okay, I know I’m forgettable.” He stared into her eyes with a solemn expression.

She leaned against the door, peeking around the edge, trying to hide her state of undress. “The rain soaked us
…
I had to change. Why don’t you go into the kitchen. I’ll follow in a moment.” She dashed off to her room, leaving Feathers to let himself in.

She tore through her wardrobe, searching for her favourite jeans. She’d found them in Oxfam – Gaps in near-perfect condition, and her size. In the middle of a pile of folded laundry, she located them, along with a t-shirt she wore for its figure-hugging qualities.

Dressed, she stood – for too long – and stared into the mirror on the back of her door. Wrinkles were appearing, and a few wiry grey hairs. But she was too youthful to be growing old.

While Feathers waited in the kitchen, he’d fixed himself tea, the mug steaming between his fingers. For a few seconds, she stood in the hall and watched him. His long hair fell in honey strips over his shoulders. In shadow, his frame appeared gaunt.

She entered the kitchen. “I wasn’t in the woods, all right?”

“Who said you were?” Feathers sat down, and sipped from his mug.

She slipped into the chair opposite, and tried to think of something distracting to say.

“So why were you in the woods?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

How could she say that she’d needed to get home as fast as possible, that his essence still clung to her skin? She licked her lips, and stared unblinkingly at Feathers.

“Yes,
well,
I did go,
then. T
he other road was flooded, and the car was making funny gurgling noises.
There
was something. In the woods.” She pulled her chair closer to the table. “I sounded like a large animal, I think. Anyway, not a ghost. It charged about, breaking branches.”

“You are so lucky.”

“Why?” Staring into his eyes, she could see the colours circling the retina, deep blues in a perfect
blend with the lighter pastels.

He pulled his chair around, towards her.

“Something lives in those woods. It came for you.”

Feathers closed up the distance, and their knees touched.

“Whatever it was, it took off when this really loud peal of thunder crashed overhead. So the creature can’t be too scary.” She laughed. “No, actually, you’re all a lot of old women. A couple of the boys from down the road dared Connor to visit their camp out there tonight. I realised just now that the noises were probably just them being silly.”

“You’re kidding!” Feathers sat back, his hand covering his mouth in shock.

“What’s your problem?” Izzy asked, reaching to pull him closer again. “They’re just kids messing about in the woods. Anyway, after we left, the rain probably drove them back to their tents.”