Free Slither by John Halkin Page A

tongue appeared for a tantalizing second. ‘My name’s Fran,’ she introduced herself. ‘Frances Whyte.’
    ‘It’s agreed, then?’
    ‘Agreed.’

7
    In October that year there was a heat wave. The teachers were on strike in Middlehampton, otherwise Tim and Annie would both have been in school. As it was, they walked disconsolately along the unkempt grass verge running the length of the high wall which surrounded The Cedars and wondered what to do. During the summer holidays there’d been no problem. They’d found a spot where they could get over the wall quite easily; the house was shuttered and closed up; no one had bothered them.
    To a stranger’s eye, they might easily have been twins. Tim’s hair was straight, and longer than Annie’s; hers was curly. But they were both ten years old, the same height, dressed in identical blue T-shirts and faded jeans. For as long as they could remember they’d lived next door to each other.
    The garden of The Cedars had been ideal for them, with plenty of trees as well as lawns, an orchard and a vegetable patch which an old gardener came in to tend once or twice a week. They’d built a rough shelter for when it rained; stole tomatoes from the greenhouse when they were thirsty; connected up the hosepipe when the sun was too hot and pranced about naked in the spray. Occasionally they’d talked about filling the empty swimming pool, but never risked it.
    Now the owner was back.
    On the first day of the strike they’d gone over the wall as usual but immediately had to duck down behind some bushes at the sound of voices. When they’d peeped out they’d seen a bronzed, active-looking man in light fawn trousers and a black open-necked shirt practising putting shots on the newly-mown lawn. A brand-new Jaguar, vivid red, reflected the brilliant sunshine glaringly on the drive.
    ‘Something in the City,’ Tim’s father had said, whateverthat meant. ‘Stinking rich. Spends his summers swanning around the Med on a yacht.’
    Tim and Annie whispered together hurriedly and decided to beat a retreat, but as they moved he spotted them. In a loud, imperious voice he demanded to know what they thought they were doing, didn’t they realize this was private property, they were trespassing, it would serve them right if he set the dog on them. Tim took a step forward, defending himself hotly, declaring they weren’t harming anything, they weren’t stealing,
honestly
…
    A girl appeared behind the man, inquiringly. She wore a black bikini and long, blonde hair down to her shoulders. Beyond, Tim noticed the unaccustomed sparkle of the water in the filled swimming pool.
    ‘Darling, let them go. They’ve learned their lesson!’ Her voice was soft with a touch of laughter in it; as she looked at Tim and Annie her lips twitched.
    ‘Right, but don’t let me catch you here again!’ the man bawled, and he stood watching them as they climbed out the same way they’d come in.
    As he remembered it two days later Tim’s lips tightened. They’d known it couldn’t last for ever but the man, whoever he was, had no need to shout at him like that. He stared at the wall. Somewhere on the other side… His foot caught in a tangle of grass and fern; he kicked it free, savagely.
    ‘We ought to get our own back,’ said Annie, speaking his thoughts. ‘And I know how.’
    ‘How then?’
    ‘Biters!’ She added: ‘They’d make ’em jump, and nobody could prove it was us.’
    She explained her plan.
    Tim’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. ‘That’d show ’em!’ he approved grimly. ‘That’d just show ’em!’
    ‘Make ’em jump!’ Annie repeated.
    They dashed back home, excited, for their wellies and fishing nets. Tim appropriated a large glass jar from the garden shed; he tied some string around its neck to make a handle.
    ‘Where are you off to?’ his mother demanded, leaning out of the bedroom window, her face harassed as usual.
    ‘Out!’ he called back.
    They’d first