Three Mile Drove, Chapter Nine (standard:horror, 1978 words) [10/29] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 08 2006	Views/Reads: 2900/2144	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Set in the English Fens. Darren Goldwater inherits a run down smallholding and encounters murder, mystery and horror. This is a serialisation of a completed work

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

he added sourly, ‘so come on, what's so interesting about this place 
that you can hardly take your eyes off of it?' 

‘I got no interest.' The stare returned to him, ‘Apart from natural
curiosity that is. Mind you there are those that have.' 

‘Such as who?' Darren growled, ‘Gypsies?' 

‘No. Gypsies'll be the least of your problems if you're counting on
staying around these parts.' He gave a laugh, a harsh sound exposing 
ageing, rotten teeth, ‘This place has seen more comings and goings than 
a band of gypsies.' 

‘How do you mean,' Darren asked moodily, ‘get to the point.' 

‘There are...' the old man stopped all of a sudden, his voice freezing
on the wind as a voice called from the bungalow. Darren turned in 
surprise at the woman calling his name as she came strolling through 
the rear garden towards the bridge. 

‘You left the doors wide open, I took the liberty of coming to find
you.' 

‘That's okay,' Darren said, puzzled, though pleasantly surprised to see
Claire Summerby. 

Claire reached into her jacket pocket and took out a gold embossed
cigarette lighter. ‘You left this behind at the pub last night,' she 
said, handing it to him, ‘Funny though, I don't seem to remember you 
smoking.' 

‘I don't, I gave it up,' he accepted it from her, seeing the smoothness
of her hands which seemed to match the rest of her skin, ‘it's habit I 
guess, but I still tend to put it on the table whenever I go for a 
drink.' 

‘I see.' She switched her eyes to the old man, ‘Hello Seth, whatever are
you doing here?' It might have been his imagination but some of the 
pleasantness went out of her voice as she addressed the man. 

‘Morning stroll, that's all Miss Summerby.' The old man sounded
defensive. He turned to go. ‘Hey hang on,' Darren called after him, 
‘What were you about to tell me?' 

‘Nothing that'll make any difference to you,' he muttered, making his
way down from the bridge and ambling away from the bungalow along the 
track beside the dyke. 

‘Strange bloke,' Darren said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his
jeans as he watched him go. He turned, meeting the intelligent face of 
his visitor, noticing the fine lines around her eyes. She must be in 
her mid-thirties, he thought, though she could easily pass for thirty. 
But hers was the sort of face that would grow even more attractive as 
it aged, you could tell. Some women had this attribute, though sadly 
not that many. Goldie certainly didn't, he thought. 

‘Anyway, thanks for returning the lighter,' he said, becoming acutely
aware that he'd been studying her intensely. ‘It was a present from my 
father; I'd have hated to lose it.' 

‘Try to be less forgetful then.' There was a hint of humour and then a
moment of silence, as he felt her fine eyes probing him. Perhaps a 
couple of inches shorter than him, he saw the way her long dark hair 
blew in the wind, he saw the way she brushed it back. Despite the chill 
he could almost feel the warmth of her, it was almost as if, in spite 
of the conditions, he could feel his own temperature rising. 

She removed her gaze from him; he saw her eyes following the old man. 

‘Who is he?' Darren asked. 

‘He's Seth Rawson, a farmhand. He's way off his beaten track. What was
he saying to you?' 

Darren raised his eyebrows, gazed down at his pointed boots, ‘Well
that's just it. He'd been about to say something when you appeared.' He 
gave her a funny half smile, which quickly turned into a frown as he 
slipped the lighter into his pocket, ‘He'd been hinting on that I'd 
have problems here, in some form or other.' 

‘I shouldn't pay too much attention to him,' Claire said lightly,
folding her arms. ‘Seth's harmless enough, just a bit of a fruitcake. 
Some people take delight at trying to put the fear of God into people. 
He's one of those, that's probably why he shut up when he did. He knew 
I'd see through him. When you're a newcomer you don't understand these 
things, whereas I do. Take no notice.' 

She turned towards the bungalow, ‘Anyway, I must be going. I need to be
starting my rounds shortly. It's nice to have the opportunity to speak 
to you again.' 

‘I was wondering...' Darren increased his stride as he followed the
leggy brunette through the undergrowth and into the rear garden. 
Suddenly a piercing scream seemed to split the air in half, echoing 
across the fens like a crazed falsetto. He turned in alarm, his chain 
of thought broken. ‘What the hell is that noise. I keep hearing it but 
I'm coming no closer to understanding where it's coming from, or what's 
causing it.' 

‘Wild animals of course.' She looked at him the way a schoolteacher
might to a dim pupil. ‘You don't suppose we're free from them here do 
you Darren? Haven't you heard a fox before?' 

‘For a fox that was an oddly human sound,' Darren said dubiously, and
more than a little unnerved. Not that he had any particular experience 
with foxes though, but there was something not at all right about that 
hideous shriek. 

‘Look I was wondering...' he repeated, shrugging the sound from his
mind, ‘whether you might come for a drink with me sometime.' 

‘I hardly know you,' she looked back, a wry smile on her lips. 

‘Well, it's certainly a way of getting to know me,' Darren said, walking
alongside, ‘how about it? A nice quiet spot, nothing too romantic 
though, more casual, like. How about this evening?' 

‘No I'm working tonight,' she said, stepping through the rear door ahead
of him. ‘I'm fairly pushed until the end of the week as a matter of 
fact, by which time I expect you'll be long gone.' 

‘No, as it happens I'll be spending a few days here, there are things I
need to sort out, like starting to get the place done up for instance.' 


‘You're thinking of staying then?' He saw the way her mouth seemed to
drop open in surprise. ‘I'd have thought you'd have wanted to be far 
away from this place.' 

‘Why?' Darren asked defensively. 

She laughed just then; it was a smooth and easy transformation of her
features. Darren was already drawing the conclusion that her smile was 
something special. 

‘Oh I don't know. I guess I thought this region might be a little remote
for the likes of you.' 

‘I doubt it,' Darren glanced at her with slight reproof, ‘for the likes
of me, as you put it, I'd say this place would make a change.' He drew 
in breath as they passed through the front door, taking in the 
crispness of the air. 

‘This place might look a mess right now, but it can be patched up
nicely. I came here with pessimism, I admit that, but despite it all I 
think it can provide me with a new lease of life. It has prospects and 
I reckon I'll take up the option on it.' 

He laid a hand on her shoulder, ‘So how about Friday then?' 

There was silence for a second or two. She was dubious, he knew that.
Then she took pen and paper from her jacket pocket, jotted something 
down, and passed it to him. 

‘Call for me here, about eight.' 

‘Fine.' Darren raised a satisfied smile at that, but the worried look
that cloaked Claire Summerby was concealed from him as she started the 
car. 


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