In a Dark, Dark Wood Read Online Free PDF Page A

each other secret nods. Maybe it’s because we meet comparatively rarely; writers tend to spend the bulk of their working life alone.
    ‘Nora’s a writer,’ Nina said. She eyed us both as if unleashing two bantam-weights into the ring to scrap it out.
    ‘Oh really?’ Tom looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. ‘What do you write?’
    Ugh. The question I hate. I’ve never got comfortable talking about my writing – never got over that feeling of people riffling through my private thoughts.
    ‘Um … fiction,’ I said vaguely. Crime fiction was the truth, but if you say that people want to suggest plots and motives for murder.
    ‘Really? What name do you write under?’
    Nice way of saying ‘Have I heard of you?’ Most people phrase it less gracefully.
    ‘L.N. Shaw,’ I said. ‘The N doesn’t stand for anything, I don’t have a middle name. I just put that in because L. Shaw sounded odd, whereas L.N. is more pronounceable, if you know what I mean. So you write plays?’
    ‘Yes. I’m always rather jealous of novelists – the way you get to control everything. You don’t have to deal with actors massacring your best lines.’ He flashed a smile, showing unnaturally perfect white teeth. I wondered if he’d had porcelain veneers fitted.
    ‘But it must be nice working with other people?’ I ventured. ‘Sharing the responsibility, I mean. A play’s a big thing, right?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose so. You have to share the glory but at least when the shit hits the fan it’s a collective splattering, I guess.’
    I was about to say something else when there was a ‘ching’ from the living room as Melanie put down the phone. Tom turned to look towards the sound, and something about the angle of his head, or his expression, made me suddenly realise where I’d seen him before.
    That picture. Clare’s profile picture from Facebook. It was him . So the person in her photo wasn’t her new partner at all.
    I was still processing this when Melanie came out smiling. ‘Phew, got through to Bill. All absolutely fine on the home front. Sorry I was a bit distracted – I’ve never been away for the night before and it’s a bit of a leap of faith. Not that Bill won’t manage, I’m sure he will but … oh anyway, I should stop rabbiting on. You’re Nora, is that right?’
    ‘Go through into the living room!’ Flo called from the kitchen. ‘I’m making tea.’
    Obediently we trooped through and I watched Tom and Melanie as they took in the huge room, with its long glass wall.
    ‘That view of the forest is quite something, isn’t it?’ Tom said at last.
    ‘Yes.’ I stared out into the woods. It was growing dark and somehow the shadows made it feel as if all the trees had taken a collective step towards the house, edging in to shut out the sky. ‘It makes you feel a bit exposed somehow, doesn’t it? I think it’s the lack of curtains.’
    ‘Bit like having your skirt tucked into your knickers at the back!’ Melanie said unexpectedly, and then laughed.
    ‘I like it,’ Tom said. ‘It feels like a stage.’
    ‘And we’re the audience?’ Melanie asked. ‘This production seems a bit boring. The actors are rather wooden!’ She pointed out to the trees, in case we hadn’t got the pun. ‘Geddit? Trees, wood …’
    ‘We got it,’ Nina said sourly. ‘But I don’t think that’s what Tim meant, was it?’
    ‘Tom,’ Tom said. There was a slight edge to his voice. ‘But no, I was thinking of it the other way around. We’re the actors.’ He turned to face the glass wall. ‘The audience … the audience is out there.’
    For some reason his words made me shiver. Perhaps it was the tree trunks, like silent watchers in the growing dark. Or perhaps it was the lingering chill that Tom and Melanie had brought with them from the outside. Either way, leaving London the weather had felt like autumn; suddenly, so much further north, it felt like winter had come overnight. It wasn’t just the