Good People by Ewart Hutton

it ebbing.
    ‘They thought it was safe to let you out?’
    The dogs, locked up in a shed by the house, picked up on my voice and started barking. He moved towards the house.
    I came out on to the drive in front of him. ‘We have to talk.’
    He stared at me for a moment. It was too dark to make out his expression. He dropped his head. ‘All right,’ he said quietly, ‘but I’ve got to get the dogs quiet first.’
    We turned the bend in the drive and the door of the house opened. ‘Trevor?’ his mother’s voice called out enquiringly.
    He pushed in front of me. I was about to grab him, thinking that he was trying to make a run for the house, and then realized that he was using his body to shield me. ‘It’s all right,’ he called out. ‘I’m just going to check what’s disturbed the dogs.’
    He waited until the door closed before he moved to the small shed where the dogs were still barking. He slammed a wall with his hand and called out a command. The dogs went quiet for a moment, and then started to growl. A low, deep and threatening primal sound. ‘They know you’re here,’ he observed, looking back over his shoulder at me. It struck me then: all he had to do was take out the old screwdriver that secured the hasp on the door, and the dogs would run me off. I still couldn’t make out his expression, but I knew that he was letting me know that he shared that knowledge. He tapped the wall again, and the dogs went quiet.
    He took me into a section of a barn that doubled as a workshop. A bare, low-wattage light bulb illuminated a dusty workbench and a mixed collection of tools hanging from nails hammered randomly into the plank walls.
    ‘You look cold,’ he said.
    ‘It’s been a long wait.’
    ‘You’re very determined.’
    I nodded. ‘I’m glad you’ve recognized that, Trevor. Hopefully, that means I don’t have to threaten you. Believe me, I would like to keep this civilized.’
    He looked at me searchingly. His face was drawn and pale. I had to remind myself that this was a young man. ‘What if I promised you that nothing bad happened up there on Saturday night? To the woman.’
    I caught the hesitation before the qualifier phrase. It puzzled me. I shook my head. ‘Too general, Trevor. I need to know facts.’
    ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more than that.’
    ‘Who are you protecting?’
    He shook his head.
    ‘I’ve got all night, Trevor. I’m not leaving here until I know.’
    ‘My mother will be out to see what’s taking me so long.’
    ‘Fine. So we do this in front of her. Do you want that? Do you want her to hear what you did to that girl?’
    ‘I did nothing to her,’ he insisted.
    ‘Explain what you mean by “nothing”.’
    ‘Nothing.’ His voice rose. ‘Nothing, nothing – I didn’t touch her, I promise you.’ He looked at me entreatingly, begging me to believe him.
    ‘Why not?’ I grinned at him salaciously. ‘She was there for you and Paul. A gift from your mates. To get your cherries popped. Although, from the rumours I hear, yours went some time ago.’ I went in close to him, still grinning. ‘And here it is: effortless pussy, brought to you on a plate. A gift. And you’re trying to tell me you didn’t take up the opportunity? Come on, Trevor.’
    He tried to draw away, but he was backed up against the workbench. ‘I was too tired. I had had too much to drink. I didn’t want a girl, I just wanted to sleep. I went to bed and left the others to have their party.’
    I pictured the pile of bracken on the floor. ‘In the other room? Is that where you went to sleep?’
    He nodded. I saw it then. In his eyes. What I had missed before. The pain and the evasion. He saw my recognition. I held his upper arms to stop him squirming away. He leaned back over the bench, twisting his head away. ‘Look at me, Trevor.’ He shook his head, resisting. ‘Look at me …’
    Slowly, he stopped shaking his head. His body stiffened in my hands. When he finally