He’s outside
‘What, Ross? I shouldn’t think so. It could be anything, couldn’t it?’
That’s the sound they make when they see a human in the woods, and who else would it be?
A mischievous look.
Perhaps he’s come to see you.
I felt that quick, guilty warmth again, and squashed it. Transference, that was all it was. I had no need, no desire to go outside and see if Ross Ventriss was stalking the undergrowth and, besides, if hewasout there it would be to check for signs of Isobel and her packed suitcases leaving the premises.
Tilly decided for me. She jumped away from her game and clutched at her groin. ‘Wee.’
‘Oh, Tils!’ I had put her in pull-ups today, her reliability was questionable when it came to potty training, but in the interests of getting her dry Ihadto react whenever she signalled she needed the toilet. ‘All right. We’ll go in the woods.’
I had no idea what Isobel’s toilet arrangements were and absolutely no desire to ask.
‘Thank you for the tea and juice, Isobel.’ I seized Tilly and Brass and hauled her onto my hip, hoping that things hadn’t already gone too far. The pull-ups had been given to me by Tia, who kept them for emergencies, but Kiara was so much bigger that the size meant any contents would probably just trickle down Tilly’s leg. ‘I’ll see you again.’
You do that. We need a proper chat.
Leaving Isobel creakily picking up the diamonds and the tray that Tilly had been playing with, I pelted down the hallway and out into the wood. The birds that had been gusting overhead were beginning to settle back in the branches and my arrival sent them all skywards again with conversational ‘ack-ack-ack’ noises.
Tilly managed a wee behind a sturdy oak tree, didn’t get it in her boots or down her trousers and was very proud of herself when she stood up and rearranged herself. ‘Wee, Mummy,’ she said happily.
‘Good girl, well done.’ I helped her get dressed, one eye on the sky and those swirling birds. Their cries were urgently conversational, as though they needed to tell me something and I wasn’t paying attention.
‘Oh.’ Ross stepped out from behind a small stand of holly bushes, which caught at his clothes, dragging them backwards and sideways until he looked part of the greenery. ‘You’ve finished in there. Any luck?’
Tilly put her thumb in her mouth again and stared at Ross, big-eyed and clutching at my coat, Brass held protectively against her as though he may spring to dragon life at any second and flame the interloper.
‘Hello, Tilly,’ he said, but not in the ingratiating way that people usually tried to talk to her, a ‘look how good I am with children’ way. Ross’s approach was to treat her as though she were a dog of uncertain temperament, and his lack of attention seemed to work on her because her thumb came out and the grip on my hem relaxed.
I sighed. ‘No. And you don’t need to keep checking up on me, you know. I’ll let you know when there’s anything going on here. Iamtrying,’ I added, when his stare into the depths of the trees started to look a little accusatory. ‘She has nowhere else to go, and she’s got all those…’ I waved a hand to indicate the irritable kak-kakking coming from above. ‘So I don’t think a bungalow in Acomb is going to cut it, unless the neighbours arereallyunderstanding.’
Ross carried on staring into space. He’d got his hands in the pockets of an elderly jacket, the collar was up under his ear at one side and he’d clearly made an attempt at shaving that had either been interrupted or carried out by a razor with the sharpness of a paperback. ‘Oh.’
‘So, why did you come?’
My hands, still adjusting Tilly’s clothing, had got sweaty.Hadhe come to see me? I mean, yes, all very flattering and I was getting that pressure in my middle that told me I found him attractive – although I needed to think about why I’d be attracted to a man who seemed to get dressed in the dark. Or, indeed, carry out all his personal care in the dark. And yet… here I was, trying not to blush like a teenager.
‘I wanted to show you something.’ He was rocking on his heels now, like a TV detective questioning a suspect, and he still hadn’t looked at me, although Tilly had merited a quick sideways glance. Oh God, he wasn’t going to be one ofthosemen, was he? I reached for Tilly’s hand, but she pulled away from me and ran forward a few steps, bent to scoop a huge armful of the slimy dead leaves that coated the ground, and then flung them at Ross.
‘Leaves!’ she shouted, joyously as the leaves, plus a generous handful of mud that had come with them, hit him at waist level and stuck.
‘Tilly!’
But she was running now, circling around the trees with her little boots flashing glimpses of yellow in the grey air. ‘Leaves!’
I intercepted her just as her foot caught in a tree root and she bowled forward, hitting the soft and yielding ground with a cry that indicated there was glass-studded concrete under that leaf litter. I picked her up and held her close.
Ross was still standing with his lower half clad in the serendipitous patchwork of colours, a few of which were now dropping off, leaving mud marks. ‘I am so sorry,’ I said. ‘Tilly, you need to say sorry to Ross. We don’t throw things at people.’
Tilly was still wailing against my shoulder. Ross looked at me properly now. ‘Your life is very nearly as chaotic as mine, isn’t it?’ he asked, but not as a real question, more an observation.
‘You have no idea. And I’m sorry about the… stuff.’ I couldn’t even really call it leaves; Tilly had scooped most of the forest floor and there was not only mud but what looked like horse poo in there too. Ross looked as though he were camouflaged for stalking compost heaps.
‘It’s fine. Well, no, not fine exactly, but it’s all washable.’ He glanced down at himself. ‘I’m not in the market for merino wool and… and… whatever that other stuff is that’s not washable.’ His head tilted. ‘So. Shall I show you what I wanted to show you now?’
