Free Burning Secrets by Clare Chambers Page A

torch. The cone of light had picked out the crouching figure of a woman, who now straightened up, shielding her eyes from the glare. It was Helen Swift, the music teacher. Her face was pale with fright, and it took her slightly longer to recognise Daniel, dazzled as she was by the glare.
    â€œOh, it’s you,” she said with relief, pressing a hand against her heart and blowing out a lungful of held-in breath. “Oh, thank God. I thought that dog was going to rip my throat out. Have you got hold of him?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œShhh!” Helen hissed urgently. “And turn that thing off !” She pointed at the torch. “What are you doing here, anyway?” she added.
    â€œWalking my dog,” he whispered back. “He suddenly shot off so I followed. What are you doing?”
    Helen raked her fingers through her long hair. “I . . . lost a pile of lesson notes today. I thought they might have been thrown away by mistake . . . so I decided to come and have a quick look.”
    This was such an incompetent lie Daniel couldn’t even be bothered to challenge it. If she wanted to rummage around in wheelie bins at midnight it was her business.
    From somewhere on their side of the building came the soft click of a door closing. Daniel felt Helen’s hand close tightly round his arm and before he could protest she dragged him back behind the bins. She pressed her other hand over his mouth and made urgent shushing gestures. This woman is weird and crazy, he thought, and was about to shake her off, but the expression in her eyes stopped him. It was a combination of pleading and genuine fear. So he crouched in the darkness over a puddle of foul-smelling ooze leaking from the waste food bin, trying not to breathe and keeping both arms around Chet in an attempt to keep him still and quiet. Over the background rustle of wind in the trees Daniel’s straining ears picked out the sound of footsteps and then the distant crump of a car door. He waited tensely for the engine to start, but instead came the crunch of footsteps again, louder as they approached. Something in the lightness of the tread made Daniel sure it was a woman. Helen gave him an agonised look and shrank a little further into the shadows. The footsteps were heading straight towards them.
    Chet’s ears began to lift and he put his head on one side as he always did when interested in something. Silently, frantically, Daniel stroked the fur at his neck and behind his ears, holding him tightly to mask the scent of the approaching stranger, and praying he wouldn’t bark.
    The footsteps stopped almost on top of them and there was a creak of resisting plastic as the rubber lid of a bin opened. Something light was dropped inside and then the lid fell back with a soft thud.
    Grit crunched under the departing footsteps and Helen’s grip on his arm relaxed. The car door opened and closed, and at last the engine began to rumble. Even so, neither of them spoke until the noise of the car had faded out, swallowed up in the dark distance.
    â€œYou good dog,” were Helen’s first words, which almost made Daniel forgive her for being weird and crazy.
    â€œWhat was that about?” he hissed. “Why are we hiding?”
    But she had already jumped up and was rooting in the bin to find whatever had just been discarded. He found her ripping a chunk of card from the side of a stiff cardboard box. Satisfied, she pocketed the fragment, which was roughly the size of a biscuit and had some sort of mark which he couldn’t clearly see, before throwing the rest of the box back in the rubbish.
    â€œSorry,” she said at last. “You must wonder what the hell’s going on.”
    â€œJust slightly.” He realised he was still whispering.
    â€œThe important thing is not to tell anyone,” she said. “I can trust you, can’t I?”
    â€œDepends,” said Daniel, with scrupulous honesty. Anyone