‘Of course, you don’t. But it’s for the right reasons, and you can tell them the truth when they’re in a position to understand and accept it.’
Ardwyn returned to her guests while Everett led him around the side of the house and back to his car. As he got in, Everett put his hand on the door and leaned down. ‘We’ll let you know when we’re having another get-together,’ he said. ‘Hopefully by then you can bring the whole family. In the meantime, we might ask you for the occasional small favour. Don’t worry!’ he laughed. ‘Nothing criminal! But nature is a balance; you’ve been given something and I assume that you’ll be happy with giving something in return.’
‘Nature has already been unbalanced enough, as far as my family is concerned,’ David replied.
‘Exactly.’ Everett grinned. ‘Let’s not exacerbate that situation, shall we?’ He patted the bonnet of the car as David reversed away down the farm track, and stood unmoving in the beams of his headlights until David reached the road, shifted gear and headed for home. He tried not to look at the pale parcel sitting on the passenger seat beside him and instead focussed on the road ahead, but every so often he caught a glimpse of his own face in the mirror: his eyes red and haunted.
When he got home he put the meat as far back in the freezer compartment of the fridge as he could, hiding it with some packets of frozen peas and chips. Then he changed his trousers, threw his ruined jeans into the rubbish and sat down with his laptop, trying to find out as much as he could about Ardwyn Hughes, Everett Clifton, and the thing that their group worshipped.
The group to which he now belonged, whether he liked it or not.
* * *
‘I can’t believe that just fell into our hands,’ said the deserter, when everybody had been sent home. He and Ardwyn were sitting by the fire enjoying the peace and a nice bottle of red, in her case, and a single malt in his, and he was glowing just as brightly with a sense of achievement. ‘I know he was high on the list to approach, but the fact that he came here voluntarily, it makes me feel like we’re on the right track.’
‘Never doubt that, my love,’ she replied, and sipped her wine. ‘You broke him wonderfully, I thought.’
Everett accepted the compliment with a tilt of his whisky tumbler. ‘The old parade ground bark is good for reminding the troops of who’s in charge. Absolutely essential for a new recruit.’
‘He will be useful in keeping the local authorities from taking too close an interest, but I wouldn’t want to have to rely on that before I was sure about the strength of his loyalty.’ She watched the embers shift and sparks drift up to die in the chimney. ‘All the same, let’s have no more until after the next replenishment. Maybe not until Moccus rises, even.’
‘That long? With each replenishment the chance that someone’s disappearance will be noticed increases, and the more people we have on-side the easier that is to conceal.’
‘Yes, and the more chance there is that they will realise what the replenishments actually involve. I’m sorry, but we can’t risk that. It doesn’t matter what they’re healed of, they’ll never accept the necessity of human sacrifice, not until they see the god with their own eyes.’
Everett thought about this, swirling the liquor around in his glass. ‘Matthew might.’
‘Really? Is he so far along?’
‘The boy’s a natural. What he did with those lambs was inspired.’
‘Hmm.’ She drained her glass and poured another. ‘Do it. Have him assist you and Gar on the next abduction. Let’s see if he has any qualms. But test him first.’
‘Yes, Mother. Who is to be next?’
She took out her little notebook, opened it, and smiled at him. ‘Ooh, let’s have a look, shall we?’
3
THE WILD SIDE
MAY ARRIVED IN A WHITE INCANDESCENCE OF hawthorn and blackthorn blossom in the hedgerows, raucous families of house martins settling in to the eaves of barns and swifts slicing the slow haze of the lengthening evenings as they hunted for insects. It was peak growing time on the allotments, and Briar Hill buzzed with activity. The majority of plot-holders who only ever came on the weekends now popped down for an hour or two after work, planting out seedlings from their cold frames, repairing fruit cages, putting up bean-pole trestles, digging in compost and weeding, weeding, weeding.
It also brought another visit from Lizzie.
This time she didn’t bother coming to the allotment first; Dennie got home and found her car in the drive. Lizzie had let herself in and was in the kitchen, going through the contents of the freezer and checking the expiry dates.
‘Hello, darling! This is a lovely surprise!’
Lizzie waved a packet of frozen butter at her. ‘You know this expired in January, don’t you?’
‘It’s lovely to see you too.’
‘As in January 2015.’
Dennie took off her boots, dumped her trug in the utility room and put the kettle on. ‘Oh, butter keeps forever.’
‘No it doesn’t! You’ve heard of salmonella, I take it?’
‘I think you’re overreacting.’
‘I think you’re going to give yourself food poisoning one of these days.’
She gave her daughter a hug. ‘I love you, darling.’
‘I love you too.’
They had tea. Lizzie took Viggo for a walk while Dennie made a pizza from a frozen base (use by: Mar 2017). As it cooked she had a quick look in Lizzie’s room and discovered that she’d packed for a longer stay this time – a week, probably.
‘How are you feeling, Mum?’
‘If I were any fitter I’d be dangerous. Why? What have you heard?’
‘What makes you think I’ve heard anything?’
‘Oh, come on, darling. I wasn’t born yesterday. From the size of that bag in your room you look like you’re moving back in.’
Lizzie chewed. ‘Maybe
