the raised porch and an old
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man sat in it, dressed casually in a cream shirt and tan trousers, smoking a pipe, a relic of a record player on the table beside him blasting out the tunes of his youth. Seeing me approach, he waved a hand and stood up, leaving the glass he’d been sipping from down next to the gramophone and turning the volume down slightly.
Relief flooding through me, I took the wooden steps two at a time, and by the time I’d got to the shade of the porch my hand was out, ready to introduce myself. I knew that I’d wanted human company, but I hadn’t realised how badly I’d needed it.
“Matthew Edge. Am I pleased to see you.”
The hand that gripped mine back was dry but firm. “George Leicester. And likewise.”
He was a tall man, over six foot, and although his hair was past grey and into white, his eyes were bright and focussed in his lined face. I took the knife out of my belt and placed it on the low table. George stared at it for a moment before speaking.
“Why don’t we go inside and get a drink while we wait to see if anyone else arrives? I’ve made coffee, but there’s a whole bar there if you fancy something stronger.”
There must have been a hungry look on my face as we stepped into the cooler area of the bar and I stared at the optics, because George raised an eyebrow.
“Just the one though, son. I think we’re going to need our heads straight today.”
I nodded and smiled as he poured me a whiskey just like the one he had outside; then we went back and stood in the doorway looking out over the green and beyond. Vera had moved on to a less famous song, but
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George hummed it quietly as he reached for his own glass.
I gestured in the direction of the music. “I thought I was the only person left alive in town before I heard that. Clever idea. Brave, too.”
“Brave? Not sure about that. I just needed to know that the whole world hadn’t disappeared on me.”
I sipped my drink, enjoying the moment of heat in my mouth. Disappeared? I wondered just how much he knew about what had happened to our quiet village. Maybe there hadn’t been too many women in his life to give him any clues. My knowledge was pretty limited, but my experience of my own mother before she died was that old people could live pretty lonely lives.
“Are you married, George?”
Leaning against the door frame, he shook his head. “My wife’s been dead for five years. Still, we had forty good years. I miss her every day, but you can’t complain after a marriage like ours. I’ve got a daughter living down in Bristol, Mary her name is, but neither her nor her husband have been answering the phone for almost two weeks now. To tell the truth, I’ve been a bit worried. No, to tell the truth, I’ve been a lot worried. She normally lets me know if they’re going away for more than a day or so.” His smile faded. “Anyway, I got up this morning and the phone wasn’t working. Nor the radio or television.” He took a long sip of his own drink, savouring it, before speaking again.
“And there didn’t seem to be anyone but me about. I knocked on a few doors, but no one answered, even though their cars were in their drives, and then I thought
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of coming down here. To be honest, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Not that there’d been a lot of people turning up here recently.”
He met my gaze. “I’d been so wrapped up in my worry over Mary and her family that I hadn’t noticed how fewer and fewer people had been coming out. There’s been a fair few matches cancelled this season, especially the ladies. But I didn’t really pay it any attention. At least, not until this morning when they were all gone.” He paused and stared out into the distance. “There aren’t even any children out playing. Where are they all, Matthew? And why didn’t I notice until it had got this far?”
I knew exactly what he meant. I’d been so absorbed with Chloe I hadn’t