The sudden breeze that sprang up was a welcome cooling touch on his hot skin and he stood for a moment, enjoying the temporary respite from the cloying humidity.
It was a second or two before he noticed the smell. A rank, pungent odour that made him cough.
Ward put a hand to his nose and stared in the direction from which the odour was coming.
Carried on the breeze, it seemed to be wafting up from one of the darker parts of the garden.
At opposite corners there were two large and very old oak trees. He had guessed, when he bought the place, around three hundred years old. One was close to his office, the other about a hundred yards away towards the wooden fence that formed one boundary of his property.
It was from there that the stench was coming.
Ward took a step towards it, trying to hold his breath.
There were only two lights on inside the house so very little illumination spilled into the garden. It was almost impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.
Ward stood still once more, trying not to gag.
He heard sounds of movement in the high blackberry-and-laurel hedges at the bottom of the garden. Cats sometimes prowled there and he’d seen hedgehogs and even squirrels in the past. But none of them smelt like this.
He knew the stench. Knew it but …
Rotten meat. The realisation hit him as palpably as the vile odour itself.
This was what was filling his nostrils with so noxious a scent.
During his days as a student he’d had a summer job on a farm in Normandy and two of the cows had been attacked and killed by gypsies’ dogs. Their carcasses hadn’t been discovered for two days. Left to putrefy in the blistering sun, they had swelled and bloated like corpulent balloons.
Ward could remember finding them in one of the fields. Smelling their rankness.The foul stench had never left him and he knew that was what he was sampling now.
The smell seemed to grow stronger. He expected to hear the sound of buzzing flies.
There was more rustling from the hedge. Ward wasn’t sure whether to move towards it or head back into the house. There was a torch in one of the drawers near the back door and he wondered about fetching it. Shining it in the direction of the smell and noises.
For brief moments he wondered if it could be a fox. If it was, best not to get too close. They spread rabies.
A badger? He shook his head. His house wasn’t that close to the countryside.
And, even if the nocturnal visitor proved to be any of these creatures, that didn’t account for the rancid stench.
He stroked his chin thoughtfully then wandered towards the back door. The smell was making his head spin.
He’d just put his hand on the door handle when he heard more movement. Louder.
Closer.
Ward pulled open the door and fumbled quickly for the torch. He stepped back into the garden and flicked it on, allowing the cold, white light to cut through the blackness.
‘Jesus Christ,’ murmured Ward, the torch quivering in his grasp.
For fleeting seconds the beam caught and held the source of the sounds.
Ward took a step back. He blinked hard. The shape in the cold light was still there.
Squat, low to the ground. Carrying all its weight on its front legs. Legs that were bowed but extremely powerful. Like an ape.
It seemed to have hair on most of the upper part of its body. Glistening black in the torchlight.
Then it moved. Moved like lightning.
Ward swung the beam back and forth. There were others. He counted three.
All, it seemed, anxious to escape the probing glare of the torch.
They scattered in all directions. And when they ran they made a sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. A sound that resembled a deep retching noise. As if they were vomiting something up from their seething bellies.
Ward hurried back inside and slammed the door, his breath coming in gasps. His head was spinning.
He crossed to the light switch and hit it hard. Security lights illuminated the garden. He scanned the area for any signs of movement. Nothing.
Ward stood there for what seemed like an eternity then he switched off the lights and ensured the back door was firmly locked and bolted. Once those tasks had been completed, he padded into the sitting room.
He poured himself a drink and sat down, breathing heavily.
It was barely five minutes before he heard a knock on the front door.
IN DARKNESS
For a moment Ward wondered if this was another product of his disintegrating mind.
Smells that didn’t exist. Sights that could only be the product of a furtive, drink-fuelled and troubled imagination. Visions that could not be explained.
His senses seemed to be conspiring against him. Could his hearing have joined the alliance?
He waited. The knock came again. Louder and more insistent.
He put down his glass and wandered out into the hall, peering through the spy-hole in the door. The motion- triggered security light in the porch illuminated a figure standing before him.
He swallowed hard then slid the chain back and unlocked the door.
‘Hi, Chris,’ said Jenny. Five-foot-two Jenny wearing the long black coat.
Jenny with the streaked brown hair. Jenny the prostitute.
He stepped back and ushered her inside.
‘I wasn’t expecting an appointment so late,’ she told him, slipping off her coat. She was wearing a pair of knee-length boots, denim shorts and a yellow T-shirt.
‘Is it a problem?’ he wanted to know.
‘No. Some customers …’ she coughed and corrected herself, ‘I mean, clients, call at any time of the day or night.’
He stood looking at her.
‘Do you want me to go upstairs?’ she said, almost apologetically.
In that moment she reminded Ward of a naughty child waiting to be sent to her room.
He shook his head and nodded in the direction of the sitting room. ‘Go through,’ he told her.
She hesitated a moment then did as he instructed. ‘It’s a beautiful room,’ she said, looking round.
‘Drink?’ he said, ignoring her observation. He handed her a brandy and coke.
‘You remembered my favourite.’
‘Listen, I need to ask you a few things.’
‘You just want to talk this time?’ She sat down next to him and put one hand on his thigh. ‘If you just want me to talk then that’s fine,’ Jenny continued.
‘Whatever you want, Chris.’ She slid her hand higher, towards his groin.
‘Listen to me, will you?’ he snapped. He got to his feet and refilled his glass.
‘You said I rang you the other day. A couple of days ago. I can’t remember exactly when. Something to do with you and another girl. What the fuck was that all about?’
‘Me and Claire. You rang and asked if I could bring another girl with me when I came.’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’ she chuckled.
‘What did I say?’ he snapped.
Her smile faded. ‘You asked me if I could arrange to bring another girl to your house. You wanted to watch us while we did each other. You said you might join in. You might just watch.’
‘And that was all I said?’
She looked puzzled.
‘How did I sound?’
