Darkhenge by Catherine Fisher

“Was it you who told the papers?”
    â€œOf course not.” Vetch’s calm eyes held his steadily. “You know very well it’s the last thing I want. Everyone will be crawling over the site. The security will already have been increased. That’s so, isn’t it?”
    Rob’s lips were pressed tight. He didn’t want to believe him, but he did. He breathed out and said, “New fence. Guards everywhere. She’s livid.”
    â€œShe. That will be Clare.”
    Rob remembered. “She’s seen you. She blames you.”
    Vetch turned to gaze out through the rain-streaked glass at the green blurs of the downs. “I knew she would,” he murmured. “Her anger with me is as deep as the forest.”
    Into the silence Rob said, “There’s a tree in the center. An upturned tree.”
    Rosa swerved the car. “What?”
    Vetch didn’t flicker. “Of course there is.”
    In the mirror Rosa’s eyes met Rob’s. She looked astonished.
    â€œHow do you know?” Rob snapped, rebellious. “You couldn’t know.”
    Vetch closed his eyes. He didn’t answer.
    At the nursing home Rosa pulled into the parking lot and turned the engine off. “I can come back if—”
    â€œNo need. We’ll find our own way home.” Vetch sat up and smiled at her. “Have a good evening.”
    Outside, he watched the car drive off.
    Then he turned and looked at Rob through the rain. “I’ll try my best, Rob,” he said quietly, “but as things are, I don’t know how much I can do. Don’t get your hopes up.”
    â€œI haven’t got any hopes.”
    Vetch was silent. Then he nodded, and turned toward the lighted entrance.
    Sister Mary was in the hall. She was surprised, Rob knew, but she covered it well. “Rob! We weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Your mum phoned earlier—”
    â€œI told her I’d come instead.” He said it quickly, because it was a lie. “The filming’s taken longer than they thought.”
    Sister Mary said, “Such an exciting sort of life!” But she was looking at Vetch.
    â€œCan we go in?” Rob said.
    â€œOh yes. She’s had her hair washed today. Such lovely hair.”
    In the lift Rob said, “She gushes.”
    â€œShe has great compassion.” Vetch folded his arms, as if he was nervous. “I could feel it. She was also a little doubtful of me.”
    â€œShe hasn’t seen you before.” Rob was nervous too, feeling the dread that always invaded him in this lift, as if it was a shadow that lived here, waiting to enter him, because it left him here too, on the way out. Fear of going in. Of seeing her.
    The room was dark, with one lamp lit. Outside the open window the rain had stopped, so that only a line of drops dripped from the swiveled pane.
    Vetch went up to the bed and looked down at Chloe. “She looks very much like you,” he murmured.
    Rob shrugged. Chloe’s hair was fine and fair; it shone, and he could smell the faint clean smell of shampoo, the one she always used. She wore new blue pajamas he hadn’t seen before. Vetch pulled the chair closer and sat. He picked up Chloe’s hand, his delicate fingers as white as hers.
    Rob bit his lip. “Do you have to do that?”
    â€œIt helps. But if you—”
    â€œNo. It doesn’t matter.”
    And yet if she was aware somewhere, she’d be furious. So he said aloud, “This is Vetch, Chloe. He’s … all right.”
    â€œHigh praise.” Vetch put Chloe’s fingers down on the white sheet and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “This room makes it difficult. All these machines…”
    â€œFor God’s sake! We can hardly turn them off!” Rob suddenly had no idea why he’d come. Why either of them had come.
    Vetch nodded. “No.” Then he said, “I suppose I just hate