be alone in this."
"I won't be going far." Apparently deciding that's too much of a concession, she adds "Unless I want to."
She marches along the side of Texts to the staff car park and disappears into the fog without a backward glance. Her rapid footsteps grow muffled as if she's walking into mud. Ross can hear no other sound except the unresolved thunder of the motorway, but suppose the boys are lurking in the fog, waiting for Lorraine to see their skulls bob up from it? When her footsteps shrink to the size of pins being tapped into a board and then dwindle into silence, Ross wanders back past the bleary display window, rubbing his arms hard. He has just trodden on the READ ON! mat when the alarm begins to shrill like a bird gone blind and insane.
Woody is the first to reach him, trying while he sprints to rub creases out of the pages of a book on puddings. "Who went out?" he's eager Ross should tell him.
"I think it was me coming in. I don't know why. I didn't touch anything."
Woody types the code only the managers know on the keypad to gag the alarm. As he resets it Ross produces the comb that's all his shirt pocket contains, then empties his trouser pockets of a handkerchief and some change, not to mention a stone that reminds him of an eye asleep, which Mad picked up last week in the car park. Frank the guard watches Ross's pockets hang their tongues out and continues to look suspicious even when Woody says "Okay, Ross, we trust you. Put your stuff away and walk back through."
Ross is pocketing the stone that feels coated with fog as he ventures between the security pillars. He snatches out his hand as the alarm pipes up. A woman in a fawn coat and matching scarf and hat, who is wheeling a toddler lagged in a hooded one-piece suit of the same colour, pulls the push-chair back from entering the shop. "Please, ma'am, step right in," Woody urges and informs the toddler "I guess a goblin got into the works."
The child starts wailing either at the noise or at Woody's explanation. It sounds as if the alarm has taken on an extra note, a siren that persists once Woody finishes retyping the combination. "It's gone now," the mother mumbles through her scarf, but the puffed-up bundle of a boy or girl arches its back in an attempt to escape its bonds as she wheels it between the security posts. "Sorry," she says more indistinctly still.
"That's perfectly all right, ma'am," Woody says. "Any time you're ready, Ross."
Somewhere in the fog a woman is coughing as she runs, and someone is driving a car. There's no reason why these sounds should make Ross nervous, though the antics of the alarm do. The moment he advances between the posts it begins to screech. The toddler enters the competition, and Mad ambles over to give the child a grin of amused reassurance. "What's your secret, Ross?"
"Nothing that I know of. I don't see how I can be doing it."
"Then show me who is." Woody frowns at the keypad as the mother unwraps her mouth to tell the toddler "It's only a silly machine, look. The gentleman who sounds like the funny men in your cartoons can switch it on and off."
"Let's hope so, ma'am." Woody has to raise his voice to be heard over the toddler's solo. Yet louder and a good deal more sharply he says "Hold it, Ross. I want a few seconds before I reset it."
The step Ross was about to take hovers above the mat. What's happening in the car park? The coughs sound almost starved of breath, and he feels anxious for whoever is running about in the fog. Perhaps she's breathing the fumes of the car as well. He steps towards Woody instead of through the posts. "Can't I just—"
"In a minute." Woody doesn't glance away from peering over the hand he's using to ensure nobody can read the combination. "Try it now," he says. "On second thoughts you try, Madeleine. See if it likes girls better."
"Watch," Mad says to the toddler. "It isn't going to hurt me. There's nothing round here to hurt anyone." She takes the longest stride she
"I won't be going far." Apparently deciding that's too much of a concession, she adds "Unless I want to."
She marches along the side of Texts to the staff car park and disappears into the fog without a backward glance. Her rapid footsteps grow muffled as if she's walking into mud. Ross can hear no other sound except the unresolved thunder of the motorway, but suppose the boys are lurking in the fog, waiting for Lorraine to see their skulls bob up from it? When her footsteps shrink to the size of pins being tapped into a board and then dwindle into silence, Ross wanders back past the bleary display window, rubbing his arms hard. He has just trodden on the READ ON! mat when the alarm begins to shrill like a bird gone blind and insane.
Woody is the first to reach him, trying while he sprints to rub creases out of the pages of a book on puddings. "Who went out?" he's eager Ross should tell him.
"I think it was me coming in. I don't know why. I didn't touch anything."
Woody types the code only the managers know on the keypad to gag the alarm. As he resets it Ross produces the comb that's all his shirt pocket contains, then empties his trouser pockets of a handkerchief and some change, not to mention a stone that reminds him of an eye asleep, which Mad picked up last week in the car park. Frank the guard watches Ross's pockets hang their tongues out and continues to look suspicious even when Woody says "Okay, Ross, we trust you. Put your stuff away and walk back through."
Ross is pocketing the stone that feels coated with fog as he ventures between the security pillars. He snatches out his hand as the alarm pipes up. A woman in a fawn coat and matching scarf and hat, who is wheeling a toddler lagged in a hooded one-piece suit of the same colour, pulls the push-chair back from entering the shop. "Please, ma'am, step right in," Woody urges and informs the toddler "I guess a goblin got into the works."
The child starts wailing either at the noise or at Woody's explanation. It sounds as if the alarm has taken on an extra note, a siren that persists once Woody finishes retyping the combination. "It's gone now," the mother mumbles through her scarf, but the puffed-up bundle of a boy or girl arches its back in an attempt to escape its bonds as she wheels it between the security posts. "Sorry," she says more indistinctly still.
"That's perfectly all right, ma'am," Woody says. "Any time you're ready, Ross."
Somewhere in the fog a woman is coughing as she runs, and someone is driving a car. There's no reason why these sounds should make Ross nervous, though the antics of the alarm do. The moment he advances between the posts it begins to screech. The toddler enters the competition, and Mad ambles over to give the child a grin of amused reassurance. "What's your secret, Ross?"
"Nothing that I know of. I don't see how I can be doing it."
"Then show me who is." Woody frowns at the keypad as the mother unwraps her mouth to tell the toddler "It's only a silly machine, look. The gentleman who sounds like the funny men in your cartoons can switch it on and off."
"Let's hope so, ma'am." Woody has to raise his voice to be heard over the toddler's solo. Yet louder and a good deal more sharply he says "Hold it, Ross. I want a few seconds before I reset it."
The step Ross was about to take hovers above the mat. What's happening in the car park? The coughs sound almost starved of breath, and he feels anxious for whoever is running about in the fog. Perhaps she's breathing the fumes of the car as well. He steps towards Woody instead of through the posts. "Can't I just—"
"In a minute." Woody doesn't glance away from peering over the hand he's using to ensure nobody can read the combination. "Try it now," he says. "On second thoughts you try, Madeleine. See if it likes girls better."
"Watch," Mad says to the toddler. "It isn't going to hurt me. There's nothing round here to hurt anyone." She takes the longest stride she
Similar Books
