The edge of the spade suddenly hits something hard, and I let out a yelp of pain as I lose my grip on the handle, and it falls to the floor. Squeezing my wrist, I feel a tingling sensation caused by the spade’s vibration hitting whatever it was that is beneath where I am digging.
Picking up the spade again, I tentatively tap it against the base of the hole, but there’s no doubt that I’ve gone as deep as I can. This will have to do it. Is it four feet? No, its three and a half at best, but I lack the strength to break through this firmer sediment, so I throw the spade to my left and clamber up out of the grave.
Now is the moment I’ve been dreading.
It’s time to say goodbye to Rupert.
I lift his hands and pull him towards the hole, feeling the pain once again in my neck but not stopping this time because I want to get this part over with as quickly as possible. I’m able to manoeuvre Rupert’s limp and lifeless body to the edge of the hole before crouching down and placing my hands on his torso.
Here goes. I close my eyes.
And push.
I don’t open them again until I hear the thud of his body landing inside the grave. As soon as I do, I give my aching neck a quick rub before picking up the spade and returning the soil to where it was before I disturbed it.
I get halfway through filling in the hole when I hear a loud crack in the distance. Looking up in the direction of the noise, I can feel my heart hammering in my chest as I pray that I don’t see anybody looking back at me. But all I see are more dark trees, no different to what I’m surrounded by in every other direction.
What was that noise? Maybe it was nothing. Just because it sounded like somebody stepping over a fallen twig or branch, it doesn’t mean that it was.
I remain still for another thirty seconds to make sure no more sounds are forthcoming before returning to the task at hand. The pain in my neck is starting to grow more consistent now, and I have already accepted that it will be sore for the next couple of days. But if a stiff neck is the worst thing to come out of all this, I guess I’ve got off lightly.
With the hole filled in, I pat down the soil and use the edge of the spade to drag a few scraggly tree vines over the top of it before deciding that I have done as much as I can. Without wasting any time, I turn and head back in the direction of my car, using my free hand to rub the back of my throbbing neck while I carry the spade in the other.
It feels good to return the shovel to the boot, although I know I will have to give it a good clean when I get home. But that can wait until the morning. A check on the time on the dashboard tells me that it is now half-past three. This never-ending night is only halfway through, but all I have the energy for now is falling into bed.
I start up the engine and get back on the move, leaving the dark woods and all the spooky sounds they hold behind in favour of the warmth and silence of my car as I cruise through the streets. I would have one hell of a job explaining to anybody who might pull me over now why I was driving around in the middle of the night, but somehow, I doubt I’ll come across any police cars before I get back. I barely see any cars at all. Everybody is home in bed, as they should be.
As Chloe is.
I wonder how my daughter is getting on. I hope she has been able to somehow get some rest, although I wouldn’t be surprised to find her sitting up waiting for me when I get back. Just as long as she hasn’t done anything stupid. My biggest fear now is that she can’t keep the secret to herself and lets something slip to Zara or one of her other friends. That would be a disaster, but I should have more faith in her than that. Besides, she knows now that it’s not just her that could be in big trouble.
I would be neck-deep in it with her too.
It’s quarter to four by the time I get home, and the sky seems blacker than ever. I hurry inside though I doubt anybody will be curtain-twitching at this time, and close the door before remembering that I’ve left the damn spade in the boot.
I go back for it before getting it back on its hook in the garage, and finally, all the jobs are done. There’s nothing left to do but crawl into bed and see about getting some sleep.
After creeping up the stairs, I enter my bedroom and peel off my muddy clothes, tossing them before slipping on my pyjamas. I’m doing my best to be quiet, but it turns out that I needn’t have bothered.
‘Mum?’
Chloe’s voice sounds faint from the other side of her bedroom door, but I heard it, so I go inside to investigate. Walking in, I find her lying on her bed, under the duvet with the lights off but very much wide awake. She squints her eyes as the light from the hallway behind me surges past me and infiltrates her room, but even with them only half open,
