Coombe's Wood Read Online Free PDF

God’s sake, Mum. We’ll only be across the road in the field. Isn’t that right, Oliver?”
    Oliver shuffled his feet in the dirt at the side of the road, his eyes flickering up to Izzy’s for half a second before returning to examining his shoes. His blonde hair flopped over his face as he said, “Feathers never takes me very far.”
    Izzy looked from one face to another, as they waited for her to say something. “I’ve stuck my foot in it, haven’t I?”
    “I could cut the tension with a knife,” Feathers said. “But that’s okay. No one minds.”
    “I mind,” Connor grumbled, and kicked at the underside of the car.
    “Perhaps I was a little hasty … ” Izzy began, faltering as Connor looked up, his expression already transforming from anger to a tentative smile. “You only go across the way?”
    “Just the fields to the side of Coombe’s Wood,” Feathers confirmed.
    “Well?” Connor asked. “Can I, Mum?”
    “How long will you be gone?” she asked Feathers.
    “About three hours.”
    “Three hours.” Izzy thought for a moment. “Seems like a long time for a bit of survival training.”
    “Mum – “ Connor said, and opened his mouth to say more, but Feathers put up a hand to silence him.
    “We’ll be trying to catch a rabbit or two. We’d be quicker if I owned ferrets, but I can’t keep them in the flat.” Feathers paused. “They’d stink the place up. We’ll be trying some of the techniques common in the 18 th Century. If we catch any, we’ll go foraging for vegetables.” He scratched at his beard. “I’ve got a good idea, why don’t you come over around six? If we snare a rabbit, there’ll stew for dinner.” He smiled, and Izzy caught a scent of – what was that, lavender?
    “Stew?” she questioned.
    “You’re not a veggie, are you?” he said.
    “No.” She shook her head. “I guess … yes, that’ll be fine.”
    She pursed her lips, angry with herself for not being able to say no. That was how she’d got into trouble, too many times before. “Be good, Connor.”
    They were already gone. Oliver and Feathers paired off, chatting animatedly as Connor trailed. Her instinct was right, but maybe the source was not Feathers directly, but the awful time Connor would have while the other two joshed at in-jokes, maybe at her son’s expense. Then, as they crossed the road, Feathers told Connor to keep up, and said something too quiet for her to catch. Connor laughed, and Feathers stepped aside so he could walk between them.
     

 
     

    With the washing-up bowl under her arm, Izzy locked up and strolled along the side of the building. As she walked past Mr Brown’s windows, she made a mental note to buy triple chocolate chunk cookies.
    She climbed the stairs to the flat, stopping to stare at the innocuous door across the hall. Later, she’d be forced to knock, dinner prepared and waiting for her. Her stomach constricted at the thought. She didn’t want to be in a man’s house. He might be psychotic. He could be anything.
    She bolted herself in, and made a pot of tea. With no chairs or sofa, she sat cross-legged on the floor by the balcony, staring through the lower pane, past the iron bars of the balustrade, and out to the woods.
    After she finished her tea, Izzy lay on the floor of the living room and timed five minutes, her head resting to one side as she watched the second hand moved past each number. Part of a nursery rhyme came back to her. What’s the time, Mr Wolf? She dearly hoped this Feathers character was not a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The time read ten-past-four. She got off the floor, her back aching from lying on the floorboards, and paced the living room. Then she re-washed the lunchtime plates. She examined the shelves in Connor’s room, took them apart and put them together properly. She opened all the windows. Then it was too cold, so she closed them. She dried the dishes. Another forty minutes had passed.
    A nervous shiver finished in an