much doubt if they grow in Hampshire.'
I could tell she wasn't pleased with my curiosity and I drew her close. 'Hey, you know I wouldn't touch anything like that.'
She relaxed into me. 'The thought frightens me, Mike. If anything happened to you like before . . .'
The words were left suspended, but Midge was referring to my bad old days and ways when I toked a little, snorted some—nothing heavy, no needles, just pass-around stuff that was hard to avoid, moving in my particular circle of musician friends. One night at a party someone had slipped me some bad coke. I'd turned blue, they told me later, and was out of it for three days. Midge had never left my side all the time I was just hanging on, my breathing a touch-and-go thing, and she nursed me through the aftermath, never once scolding, always caring, treating me like a sick baby. I was lucky to pull through with no brain damage and no police prosecution—I guess they thought I'd had enough punishment, and anyway, it wasn't me who was in possession. As far as drugs were concerned, that was it for me. No more, never again. They hadn't been exactly a habit before, and I'd never been on the really hard stuff, so leaving them alone wasn't difficult. But maybe now you'll understand why I was so shaken when I'd mildly freaked out in Gramarye's round room on that first day. Some mistakes in life are hard to escape from.
I cuddled Midge and stroked her hair, the quietness of the forest itself producing its own calming effect.
'You still trust me, Midge?'
Her reply came unreservedly. 'Of course I do. I don't want to be that scared for anyone ever again, that's all.'
She looked so small and forlorn I couldn't help but smile. 'I'd cut off a leg rather than cause you worry,' I said.
She sniffed, but the traces of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. 'Where would I keep a spare leg?'
'You'd find leg room somewhere.'
She groaned so loud a bird fluttered from a nearby bush. 'That's awful.' She picked up broken leaves and threw them at me. 'That's really
Ducking and brushing the debris from my hair, I ran from her. She followed with more woodland dust in both hands, but sprawled over a hidden branch, hitting the deck in a shower of crumbly leaves.
She swore and I waggled a finger at her. 'Now, now, what would all the little kiddie fans think if they heard that kind of talk? Did Enid Blyton ever use language like that? Did Christopher Robin ever speak that way to Winie- the-Pooh?'
I ducked again as the branch she'd tripped on came sailing by my head.
'Tut-tut,' I said. 'Does your publisher know about this vicious streak?'
'I'll get you, Stringer. You just wait, I'll get you.' She then went on to describe what she intended to do to certain delicate parts of my anatomy once she laid hands on them.
I kept out of reach. 'I can't believe I'm hearing this. Did Gretel ever do such things to Hansel? Was Jill ever like this to Jack? Did the princess ever threaten the handsome newt with such sadism?'
'Frog.'
'What?'
'It was a frog, not a newt.'
'Whatever turns you on, babe.'
She was on her feet and coming at me, so I ran, chuckling at the outraged shrieks from behind. The odd missile bounced off my back as we raced through the trees, but I easily outdistanced her.
We'd come quite a ways through the forest already, following what seemed to be some kind of vague path with several even more vague tributaries branching off, and before I knew it, like stepping across the threshold between night and day, I was out in the open.
Sunlight dazzled me for a moment, but after a few rapid blinks and raising a hand to shield my eyes I found myself looking across a broad sloping meadow. At the bottom, and backdropped by continuing woodland, stood a large gray house—well, a mansion really.
The buildings had two principle storys with dormer windows set in a hipped roof above, chimney stacks ranged across the top like upended boxes. There must have been eight or nine long windows extending along the ground floor and as many smaller windows above those. I could make out a wide flight of steps leading up to a fairly big entrance; there was no porch, but square columns and a cornice projected from the walls to frame the door. The meadow ran directly down to a rectangular turning area, with no lawns to separate them, and the driveway angled around the quoined corner of the house, presumably to a public road through the forest.
The place was certainly isolated and the grayness of the walls gave it a dark broodiness, despite the sunlight. Although the setting was beautiful, I couldn't help but feel there was something very uninviting about the house.
Soft footsteps creeping up from behind and then pincer arms moving around my waist, clawed hands reaching for those delicate parts which I'd run so hard to protect. I grabbed Midge's wrists before she could inflict any damage and she let out a yell of frustration. Turning and crushing her to me so that she was powerless, I bit into her small nose.
She jerked her head away, laughing and breathless at the same time, her wriggling to break free eventually subsiding when she realized the struggle was useless.
'Bully,' she said sulkily, but loving every minute of it.
'Gonna behave?'
'Hummph.'
'What was that? I didn't quite hear.'
'Rat.'
'Agreed. But you haven't answered my question.'
I felt her head nodding against my chest. 'Does that mean yes?'
A muffled grumble and more movement.
'Okay.' I let go, still wary.
She stepped away and kicked my shin.
'You bloody cow!' I yelped, hopping and rubbing my injured leg.
'My dad taught me how to deal with creeps like you before I was out of pigtails,' she taunted, dancing out of reach.
I sprawled, aiming for her ankles, just managing to grasp one and bringing her down on top of me. We rolled a short way down the sloping meadow, Midge giggling and cursing, beating at me with clenched fists, while I tried to hold on to her, enjoying the feel of our bodies tight against each other's.
We came to a panting stop, me on my back, Midge resting half over me. Her eyes were wide when she saw the house.
'What a strange place,' she said, the words uneven because of her breathlessness.
She sat up and I rested on one elbow to stare with her across the meadow. 'Looks grim, doesn't it,' I remarked.
A breeze swept up the gradual incline, ruffling the grass; it touched us briefly and sped by. I shivered, although I was warm.
'I wonder who lives there,' said Midge.
'Someone with more money than we'll ever see, and someone who obviously likes privacy. Even the entrance is facing away from the road.'
'It looks . . . it looks empty'
'Maybe the owners are away, or maybe it's one of those old family estates that nobody can afford to run any more. The past few decades have been tough on quite a few lords of the manor, I hear.'
'No, I didn't mean that kind of empty.' She frowned, trying to put the feeling into words. 'It looks bleak,' she said finally. 'Such a beautiful location, and yet the house seems . . . miserable.' She looked down at me. 'It feels unfriendly.'
'Oh, I wouldn't go that far. Though, of course, there is the possibility that we're trespassing on private land. Somebody around here might get hostile if they see us.' She was immediately scrambling to her feet. 'Take it easy,' I said, remaining where I was. 'I was only kidding. We haven't seen any private-property signs.'
