Free Something Wicked by Kerry Wilkinson Page A

later, Elaine led Andrew and Jenny into the back garden. The day had brightened up but it was hard to tell as tall, swaying conifers bathed the lawn in a
dark horror movie-esque shade. If ‘Night of the Killer Chainsaw Bitches’ was going to have a sequel, then its location manager would struggle to find a better spot than this.
    Andrew peered upwards but everything except for the tops of the neighbours’ houses was blocked, leaving a darkened, mud-soaked amphitheatre underfoot. The temperature was a degree or two
lower as well, with Jenny wrapping her arms around herself and Andrew trying not to shiver.
    Jenny headed straight for the shed midway along the garden, its dark wood almost camouflaged in the murk. There was a twinkle in her eye as she turned. ‘I used to have a den in my
dad’s shed.’
    Perhaps surprisingly, Elaine returned the smile. ‘Me too when I was a girl. Me and my friends used to keep piles of blankets in there and we’d sit around chatting and complaining
about boys.’
    She took a key from her pocket and popped open the padlock, pulling the door aside and holding it open. ‘It’s fine for you to look around but Nicholas never spent much time here. He
preferred to go out with his friends.’
    Andrew followed Jenny inside, feeling the noxious odour of creosote surging through his nostrils. The ultimate medicine for nasal congestion: sod those nose sprays, get sniffing fence paint
– although that probably wasn’t official medical advice.
    Tools and plants lined the walls, with the wooden floor creaking through age and neglect. In the corner, a deflated football sagged pitifully, wedged between a mud-caked rake and an overturned
wheelbarrow. Jenny walked in a circle, running her fingers along the grain of the windowsill.
    Andrew turned to see Elaine staring towards the ball in the corner. ‘Are you okay?’
    Her voice cracked. ‘I don’t come out here very often. I remember when he was young enough to kick that ball around the garden.’
    Andrew opened his mouth to reply but Jenny got in there first. ‘It’s normal for you to keep believing. A year from now, five years, ten years: you still believe he might return.
Hopefully we’ll be able to help you find some closure.’
    She smiled meekly, not her usual smirk, but with her lips thinner and clamped together. Elaine bowed her head graciously but Andrew couldn’t take his eyes from Jenny, trying to remember if
those were the exact words he’d said to her only hours earlier.

9
    Andrew and Jenny said their goodbyes and set off down the driveway. Jenny rounded her car and was touching the handle when she nodded towards the house next door. Andrew turned
to see a squat middle-aged woman wearing a knee-length skirt with legs so skinny, they didn’t seem large enough to hold her up. An oversized red jumper hung to her thighs as she bobbed around
the corner of the hedge, flicking her head to the side, like a robin with Tourette’s.
    ‘I’ll wait,’ Jenny said, opening the door to the car and getting in without needing to be told. Sometimes she was the right person to stick her nose in, other times she’d
rub people the wrong way. Instinctively they both knew the strange woman in the ridiculous jumper wanted to talk to him.
    Andrew glanced towards the Carrs’ house, before sidling across the pavement, hands in pockets.
    The woman had a sharp squawk to her voice. ‘You from the council?’
    ‘No.’
    She huffed in annoyance. ‘Bugger. I’ve been complaining about those hedges blocking my light for months. I thought you might be ’ere to chop ’em down.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘Soddin’ useless, that council lot. You phone ’em up and it’s press one for this, press two for that. By the time you finally get through to someone, you’ve
forgotten what you phoned ’em for. Two years ago, that’s when I first asked them about looking into the height of the trees. Then again a year ago, then every other month