Part 9 (1/2)

Ace woke to the sound of screaming. She was on her feet before she knew where she was, and was standing at the window by the time she remembered the dull evening spent cadging pints in the village pub. 'What...' Her words trailed away as she gripped the curtain. She knew the difference between drunken larking about and absolute terror. She s.h.i.+vered, ice-cold needles in her arms and legs.

'Don't do it, miss,' came a voice from the door. Despite the screams it was like a gunshot in the graveside stillness of the room.

Ace spun round.

Bob Matson was standing in the doorway, framed by the landing light, a bunch of keys in one hand.

'What the -'

'Don't open the curtains,' Matson repeated, more insistently than before. Despite her shock, Ace could perceive something different in his voice. Surely it couldn't be fear?

'Get out, toerag!' shouted Ace, her words still leapfrogging over each other in surprise.

'Shh, keep your voice down.' As Matson walked into the room Ace noticed for the first time that he'd barely looked at her. The sole object of his attention was the curtains that separated Ace from whatever was going on outside.

'I could have you arrested,' said Ace. Matson's distracted manner was both irritating and frightening.

'No you couldn't. Not in Hexen Bridge,' said Matson, finally positioning himself between Ace and the bay window. This done, he seemed to relax for the first time. 'You'd not thank me if I let you look out on the green.'

'What's going on down there?' Ace could see flickering lights through the curtain fabric. The screams - it sounded like a girl - were beginning to fade.

'Nothing that you could interest the constable in. He's my cousin, you know.'

'Oh yeah?'

Matson pointed at the window. 'Drunken young farmers.'

'Don't talk c.r.a.p.'

'They have some sort of initiation ceremony.'

'I don't believe you.'

'It doesn't matter,' said Matson, placing his hands on his hips. 'You ain't looking out of that window.'

Ace thought briefly about running at the man, but he was too big. His biceps looked like most men's thighs.

'I don't want you to get hurt,' said Matson by way of explanation. 'I like you.'

'What does your wife think about that?'

Matson said nothing.

Ace suddenly remembered that she was standing in front of a man, old enough to be her father, in just T-s.h.i.+rt and knickers. She fought to keep the embarra.s.sment from flus.h.i.+ng her features. 'Thanks for the concern,' she said.

'But I can look after myself. If you don't get out of my room in two seconds flat, I'll throw myself on the floor and start screaming. You got that?'

Matson was unmoved.

'I'm serious,' Ace continued.

'I know you are.' Matson turned away from the window, and Ace realised that the village was quiet again. The silence that enfolded Hexen Bridge was so hushed and complete that it seemed to mock her memories of the screams. Matson smiled. 'I've always known when I'm out of my league, Miss Smith.'

If that was a backhanded compliment, Ace wasn't impressed. 'That sort of thing might work with the schoolgirls, but -'

'You're too mature for such flattery?' Matson stared evenly at her james T-s.h.i.+rt. 'Maybe. But when you grow up, you'll see things differently.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. You'll certainly learn not to get involved in other people's marriages.'

Ace was incredulous. 'What are you on about?'

'I saw the note you pa.s.sed to my wife.'

'What note?'

Bob Matson stabbed a blunt finger in her direction. 'You pa.s.s any more messages from that slant-eyed yellow b.a.s.t.a.r.d to my wife,' he spat, 'and I might decide you are in my league after all.'

Ace aimed a kick at the man's groin, but he was swift for his size, and moved aside quickly.

'Don't be an idiot,' said Matson, walking towards the door.

'I've said what I came to say.'

'I've not started,' said Ace. 'You're a sad, pathetic, evil -'

Matson turned, affecting hurt. 'Such nasty names.' He nodded towards the window. 'And I've just done you a favour, an' all.'

And with that he was gone. Ace heard him pad down the landing. Back to his wife, tucked up in bed. Poor cow.

She ran to the window and pulled back the curtains, but in the darkness the green was as black as the midnight sea.

Nothing moved, and barely a light could be seen in the cottages beyond.