It sounds like hammers.
Lots of hammers, knocking on nails.
Into what though?
Wood, my subconscious supplies.
And, from nowhere, I remember what Tim said about Doverley’s wood rot, and how half of the first floor disintegrated in 1943.
It had to be replaced…
Is that what I’m hearing?
Have I really just asked myself that question?
And did Mum just say something else?
She’s definitely looking at me like she’s expecting an answer.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
‘I said, what makes you think there were fields behind the house? It was right in the middle of the estate.’
‘It’s how I remember it,’ I say, and the banging stops again.
Instinctively, I glance upwards at the silence.
I can’t believe I’ve done that.
‘What’s got your attention up there?’ Mum asks me, quick as a flash, and this time there’s no doubting the tightness in her voice. ‘You’ve been trying not to look ever since we sat down.’
‘No I haven’t … ’
‘I’m afraid you have.’ She narrows her eyes in a penetrating glare. (She’s very good at those.) ‘What’s going on?’
Nothing,I could say.
It’s absolutely nothing.
But her eyes on me don’t waver.
And I never have been able to lie to her.
‘You really haven’t heard it?’ I say, and it’s like a pressure valve opening, just letting that question go.
‘Heard what?’
‘The banging,’ I say, my heart pummelling at this leap I’m taking.
Mum continues to stare.
For an uncomfortable length of time.
‘Claudia,’ she says, and oh god, she’s used my proper name, ‘I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly. Have you been hearing any other noises?’
I swallow, drily. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think you know what I mean.’ She leans towards me, and my heart quickens all the more. ‘When you’ve been looking up at the sky, have you been hearing something there?’
