Coombe's Wood Read Online Free PDF Page A

chanced a smile.
    “Jazz, right? I can hear it in my flat sometimes. Must be like a concert over at yours. Did he tell you to keep the noise down?”
    She looked up, properly this time, and then peered in Mr Brown’s kitchen window, which faced the car park spaces.
    “Yeah … he did.” She put the tub down and threw the sponges inside. “Should we be talking about this here?” She thumbed over her shoulder.
    “No worries, he’s deaf as a post.”
    Izzy laughed. “Is that why he shouts?”
    “And he’s terrible around people. His wife used to take care of the socialising. But she died a few years ago. He’s been a bit lost since.”
    “Oh. How sad.”
    “Invite him round for a cup of tea when you’re settled in, and offer him some triple chocolate chunk cookies. He’ll be all yours.” Feathers smiled, and a warm glow came over her. Surprised into a blush, she concentrated on Connor, who was still fiddling in the footwell.
    “Anyone else I need to know about?” she asked. The heat on her face had cooled, and she turned back.
    Feathers thought for a second, scratching at his beard as he considered what to say.
    “You okay with gays?”
    Izzy blinked. “I guess so.”
    “An old guy called Gilbert lives on the top floor, in number seven. He’s a bit of a recluse. He paints, mostly landscapes. Was better at his art, then he got obsessed with the woods. Now he hides up there and creates … mostly abstract, black, swirling landscapes.”
    “The woods are kind of ominous, aren’t they?”
    “Mmm.” Feathers winked at her. She frowned and walked over to Connor.
    He peered into the car and said, “I have an arrangement with Oliver’s parents to take him out for survival training once a month. Would your son like to come along?”
    She examined Connor’s face for clues. He had a smile growing, but she wasn’t a friend of Feathers, not even an acquaintance. March had turned into April, but she’d kept to herself. Time in the village flowed fast, weeks disappearing in a haze.
    “What kind of survival training?”
    “Naming trees, making shelters, how to build a fire. It’s fun. Boys love that kind of stuff.”
    “Thanks, but Connor’s building a set of shelves, I’m not sure if he’d want to go.”
    Connor got out of the car. “No, it sounds really cool. Can I?”
    “You sure you want to go? Don’t you need to finish putting those shelves up?” She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
    “I can finish them any time.” He took a confident step towards Feathers.
    “Connor, I really think you should stay.” Izzy turned away from Feathers. “We don’t know him,” she mouthed.
    “I don’t care, I want to go,” Connor said loudly, and tried to push past.
    “Connor, I’m not comfortable with you going.” Izzy took a deep breath and turned around. “Sorry, Feathers. Connor’s going to have to miss out on this one. Maybe next time.”
    “Not a problem. He’s welcome any time.” Feathers patted Connor on the back as he passed by with Oliver.
    “No. I want to go now.” Connor tagged along behind them.
    “Connor!” Izzy said, ran up and grabbed him by the arm.
    Feathers and Oliver stopped, watching as Izzy leaned in towards her son, and said, “Please, you’re embarrassing me. I don’t want you to go.”
    Connor stepped back. “No. You’re embarrassing me. I’m actually friends with Oliver – well, I was. Now he knows my mother’s insane … ”
    “Connor!” Izzy backed off, confused. “I was only trying to do the right thing.”
    “Yeah, well, no thanks.” Connor leaned against the side of the Toyota.
    Feathers cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I didn’t mean to start a family row. Connor will be welcome to come next time.” He cocked his head, his blue eyes twinkling. “Maybe you should come around for that drink, so you can say, ‘Yes,’ next time?”
    Connor’s face was dark, a scowl over his features, his eyes squeezed into slits behind his glasses. “For