In Grandpa's Shadow

Chapter One

There are many stories throughout history of tricksters and thieves, but as history has shortened its length and pulled itself up to the present day, we hear less and less of these creatures blighting our world. Perhaps because we all have a thief inside us, or indeed a trickster – a bone, a cell or a trickster’s whisker growing wistfully on our chins. Have the thief and the trickster become so embedded in our skin, our morals, our choices that we no longer see past the reflection in the mirror looking back, accusing, in the mornings. Have we become a world of thieves?

Seth, a boy of twelve, had dark eyes that brooded in their sockets on rainy days as he sat at the window of his tower block, overlooking a sad and sorrowful city. I say ‘city’, but on this day not much of the city could be seen beyond the thick drizzle that hung over the dull grey buildings within Seth’s sight.

He heaved a sigh and fixed his stare away from the window and on to the cat lying happily on his grandma’s cushion. Its special place. It would lounge nowhere else but on this cushion, frilled and frayed at the edges, but plump and soft.

A plan began to take root in Seth’s mind. It dripped and seeped, pooling around the recesses and gaps, flooding his every thought and a thin smile took its place on his face. The cat stirred, twitched and flicked an ear, before settling back down with artful ease. Seth forgot the rain.

Next door to Seth’s grandma lived Simple Simon the snake man. Seth always hissed as he passed, loudly, sometimes through the letterbox. He had once, when young, deposited his plastic snake, the kind we’ve all seen as children, through the letter box after first dipping it in the toilet and stuffing dead mice the cat had collected, fresh that day, in between the plastic links so it seemed as though the snake, although plastic, had gobbled up a feast.

No one could believe Seth would do this to his Grandma’s neighbour and the police left none the wiser.

Simple Simon often left his door open and Seth had, on occasion crept in, taken a toilet roll from the hanger, a tea towel from the rail, and opened post from the sideboard. On each and every occasion he disposed of the items down the rubbish chute and let his thin smile spread across his face for the rest of the afternoon. On this occasion Seth crept in after something quite different.

*

Simple Simon’s snake collection was quite extensive and all manner of beasts slithered in heated tanks, languishing over hot stones, or buried beneath them, out of sight.

Seth wasn’t gone long and on his return the cat had left to stretch its legs and nibble at his grandma’s offerings. Seth put his plot in motion and sat back enjoying the devilish pleasure he foresaw from his plotting. His pleasure was soon disturbed by the flapping tin of the letterbox snapping on its tight springs, as the post fell to the floor. On the mat sat a card, an invitation, addressed to Seth. His grandma, her attention caught by the snickering slap of the letterbox came hurriedly; she caught the card from Seth’s grip and smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling. Her sister had written her finally, but she quickly realised who it was addressed to when Seth angrily snatched it back and began to read:

Dear Seth,

Your grandmother says you seem to be out of sorts and fed up with the city. I can understand why and would very much like to have you come and visit us out here, where it’s probably just as wet, but possibly a lot more fun than that grimy old city she likes so much. If you catch the last train tonight you can be with us in a couple of hours; there will be a hot roast waiting and an apple crumble sitting at the side. We look forward to seeing you,

Aunty Alice and Uncle Jim

When Seth looked up at his Grandma a curious expression filled her face. She was disappointed of course – it wasn’t for her after all. Jim and Alice were meddlers in her book, but Seth didn’t mind, not if it got him away from her and this place. She muttered under her breath and summoned a smile for his benefit and, reaching for the phone she said, “Better book this train then”. As she began to relay her information to the voice on the phone for the second time, an almighty scream, inhuman, supernatural, cried out from the living room.

Later that night his grandma sat alone in the dark while Seth sat happy and content on his train, rocking side to side. The memory of the cat between the jaws of the python hidden in that soft, plump cushion, warming the edges of his eyes and his mind as he swayed in the empty carriage. He saw again the swishing tail disappear deeper and deeper into the belly of that slithering monster, the inhuman screech becoming more and more muffled after each crunch and snap of twiggy bones, until, finally, the python sat plump and content on the hollow cushion, frilled and frayed and just a little bit bloody. Seth smiled broadly at that.

 

Chapter Two

His journey wasn't a long one in the grand scheme of things; it took a couple of hours. The whole time his broad thin smile dashed across his face; passengers stepping into the carriage stopped to share the little boy's happiness and smiled warmly back at him.

Dark clouds covered the night's sky as the train drew in at Seth's final stop. Little change from London, thought Seth. It was just as dark here at night as it was there in the day, but at least the damp chill that clawed at his bones was gone and far away.

Patiently Seth waited for a call, a cry or a hulloo from his aunt. However the longer he waited the colder his mood became and all too quickly that chill he knew so well was clawing at his ankles.

Tungsten lights winked along the road outside the station, but no neon beam came flaring round the corner to pick him up. Seth began to shiver then, and ever so slightly, he felt the littlest bit sorry for himself. He thought of his grandma and her warm flat, shielded from the cold, wet air outside. He thought guiltily of his mother and his father. He thought briefly of school even. And then his teeth chattered, clattering in his head, driving a pain deep behind his eyes and a solitary tear climbed from the corner of his eye and settled on a slow run down the course of his cheek, until it rested in the corner of his down turned lip. The salty taste hung there, unfamiliar, for a moment, before he drew it in with the tip of his tongue and pulled his sleeve across the access of his nose, a slimy line forming on his coat's cuff. At that moment the distant crunch of metal on metal came from the gearbox of his uncle's car. It swung into view, one light shining brightly ahead, the other dim and embarrassed at its ineffectiveness to light the way. Seth sprang to his feet.

His uncle's car was a mess, but it was warm and the fan blew hot gusts around his ankles and warmed through the leather of his shoes until the heat reached his toes and he had to ask his uncle to turn it down. He felt stupid then; he saw his uncle look from the corner of his eye at the boy making so many demands. Seth sunk into the seat and pulled his legs in tight, clutching his plump bag to his chest, tightly. A sudden thought of a python, bubbling inside, made him twitch and sniff.

The road dragged on and the dark clouds sat above, shielding their passage from any on looking stars.

Seth knew very little about Jim and Alice. He wasn't even sure which on was his grandma's son or daughter. Or, even if they were related at all. They had known his parents, he'd seen them once before, a long time ago now it seemed.

By now the cold had returned but his uncle made no move to turn the blower back on and Seth felt awkward about asking, so he sat there, stiffly aware of the silence in the car and looked at the radio. His uncle must have seen the look from the corner of his eye because he turned the knob and Radio 4 sprang to life. A story about the state of the world filled the air; men and women debated the faults and the dismal outlook ahead for one and all.

'Great', thought Seth. His uncle began to smile and shake his head each time a new speaker began, and, when he finally added a ‘tut’, he switched it over and Mas Que Nada began to play.

The car screeched around bends and bounced over bumps, the sound of a Spanish mambo blaring into the night.

*

Seth looked across at his uncle as covertly as he could; he was mouthing the words to the song. The car was old, a little shabby, but well-kept and tidy on the inside. A golf ball rolled around his feet; he caught it under his heel and reached to pick it up. Seeing the ball, his uncle laughed. “Something to show you Seth, you’ll like this.”

They rounded another bend and came to a stop beside a broad gate leading to a field. It was dark but his uncle shone the beams of his car out over the field to a figure standing upright. Seth felt a chill run up his spine as he saw it there, vaguely moving in the wind as draughts caught at its shirt tails. A scarecrow. “Take a good luck Seth, tell me what you see.” All he saw was a scarecrow and he told him so, but then a figure leapt the arm, followed by another and another until a whole row of crows stood, perched along the arms and Seth suddenly saw a swarm of them pecking at the ground around the scarecrow’s feet.

“Not much good, that old thing, is it?” His uncle slammed the boot of the car and came back with a golf club. Taking the ball out of Seth’s hand he set it down and lined up his shot. “Never been much good at getting ‘em in the holes, but you watch this.” He took a step, lined up his swing and let loose without any need of a practice swing like they do on the television. Seth’s eyes followed the shot, he shuffled slightly until, ‘thwack’, a crow fell to the ground and a herd of black beasts took to the air swamping the already black night with their black wings. A smile lurched to Seth’s face and he looked at his uncle smiling back at him, brightly. They both laughed.

The birds swooped overhead, but it wasn’t long until they settled again, despite their dead comrade.

Back in the car the mambo had moved on to something else: jazz. Seth liked jazz and he tapped his leg to the music and his uncle made trumpet noises through the edges of his lips until, finally, a homely cottage sprang into view from the side of the road; lit brightly from inside, smoke rose from the chimney top. The deep smile was still spread over Seth’s face as he smacked his leg to the music.

His uncle’s car rolled onto the drive. Stepping out, he looked hard and long at the thatched building in front of him, remembering all sorts of Famous Five adventures his Grandma had told him. Such a distant memory now.

 

Chapter Three

The sun was high in the sky the next day, glaring down and poking past Seth’s curtains. The curtain edge flapped gently, each time letting in a ray that winked at his face, teasing him. Eventually he made his way downstairs.

The night before his aunt had been out, so he and his uncle had sat down to some soup and a tour of the house. It was everything Seth expected from a cottage in the countryside, especially after the drilling he had from those Famous Five stories. They even had a dog instead of a cat. Seth smiled when he remembered the cat.

Breakfast served up by his aunt who greeted him with a great hug and a cup of tea: “sugar’s on the table, dear”, Seth eyed the sugar and dropped in two scoops. It wasn’t long before a plate of eggs, sausage, beans and toast was in front of him: “butter’s on the table, dear”. Seth tucked in tentatively watching the woman who kept calling him ‘dear’, her back swayed from side to side as she fussed about in their cosy kitchen. Apart from his aunt the house seemed empty: “Jim’s gone for that golf ball with the dog.” Seth choked a little at that, just as he was wondering she’d answered his question. He thought of all the witches he knew from stories – they all lived in cottages in the country, though they generally weren’t married like Aunt Alice.

Seth looked out the window as he scooped up the last of the runaway beans: “you can go meet him on the path; he’ll be on his way back now.” She didn’t even turn. Seth eyed her up and down and began an experiment. Taking the last few beans he plopped them in with the sugar. If she has eyes in the back of her head she’ll see, she’ll know. The last bean went in as she turned, looked once at his empty plate, told him he was a good boy and showed him the door.

He met his uncle on his way back. The sun was high up, not a cloud around, burnt up under its stare. Seth looked at it too long and found blurred sunspots dancing on his eyes. Jim had the golf ball and casually tossed it into the fields for the dog to fetch; it was almost mechanical: fetch, give, throw, fetch, give, throw. Jim gave the ball to Seth who recoiled at the wet slobber greasing its way through his fingers until it flopped out of his hand onto the path. The dog still looked on expectantly. Jim stopped. Seth felt stupid then so he kicked it into the bushes. The dog seemed happy with that.

Leaving the dog behind, the two carried on. Seth began to smile at the memory of the crow and he looked up at Jim about to share his admiration for the man. Howling interrupted him. It came from the bushes and sent a shiver up his back: the dog. Jim was already there, he was faster than a thought. Pulling at the dog’s hind legs, Jim pulled him clear of the rabbit snare, tight around his paw, blood dripped around the wire and Seth’s stomach tightened and thrummed.

*

The dog lay in front of the fire that night, occasionally nursing his wound with a gentle lick of his tongue, ears hung low. Seth watched him shift and shuffle as the fire spat and crackled. Large fiery tongues licked the edges of the fireplace and Seth watched both creatures lay before him: the fire and the wounded dog. Occasionally Alice would wander past, pat the dog on the head, check to see if the fire needed another log and move to the kitchen, pottering at this or that. Little faces leapt out of the flames at times and the wood became white ashen images of men and women looking from one side to another in fearful dread as they were slowly brushed down into the ashes below. Seth’s gaze greeted the ground in the end and he fell in to a deep sleep, only waking to the brush of cold air greeting his arm as he moved it, in his sleep, from under his blanket to the outside: Jim had taken him to bed and tucked him in. He could hear faint creaks and clattering as they both moved about downstairs, he securing the fire with its surround, she as she laid out plates and cups to dry on the draining board.

The next morning Seth sat at the kitchen table enjoying eggs on toast. Alice planted a cup of tea in front of him. The milk was in a jug. The sugar was next to it. He opened the top of the sugar bowl and saw the beans, dry and withered; Alice turned then and looked at him full in the face. His heart stopped, but all she said was “help yourself to all the sugar you want Seth, Jim and I don’t take any”. Did she know? From where she stood she couldn't see Seth’s beans, but she kept his gaze until he took a scoop, and a second, and plopped the top back on the bowl. She smiled broadly at him.

The dog lay on its bed, head down, ears down.

“Jim is up the top field, you can join him if you like, just there, can you see?” She pointed through the window and Seth nodded. He finished his breakfast, his tea and left dutifully heading for what he thought was the top field.

It wasn’t a warm day and he hadn't wrapped up enough, but the walk warmed him up. Over the fields around him there were little swirling pools of mist rising from the ground. He walked onwards and upwards towards what could only be described as the top field, as far as he was concerned.

His eyes were fixed to the ground as he trudged on until a mighty shout broke his stride: his name? Something whizzed past him. The hairs on his brow whispered against his forehead. Thwack! He turned on the sound, his heart twitching furiously.

 

Chapter Four

A golf ball had made a neat crater in the face of a scarecrow beside him. He had walked right up to it without realising. It stood to about his height, although it was boosted a little off the ground so peered down at him slightly. There was a button left for one eye, the other was nowhere to be seen, but the wet threads that had held it were stuck against the cloth face. With the damp morning air all about a small bead of dew had collected on the purple plastic rim of the button and hung, too small to drop to the ground, shivering against the air. How he had walked so squarely up to it without noticing he couldn’t understand, but now he studied it closely. He wanted to take its hand and help it down, fix its eye. He wanted to help it, but he didn’t know why, he had never been that sort of boy.

“Seth!” Jim’s voice cut into him and he stepped back onto the golf ball, his heel pushing it into the earth. There were several there, scattered about.

The scarecrow was Jim’s target from the look of it. Jim was concerned, like his grandma used to be at the beginning, but he soon saw that Seth was fine and they began to collect the golf balls up. Seth found the partner to the purple button-eye, wiped the mud from it and put it in his pocket. Jim saw, but he didn’t say anything.

Seth’s days went by like this for a week. He would have his breakfast, dip his spoon in the sugar bowl, which still housed his beans, and join Jim on the top field to swing at golf balls, trying to come as close to the scarecrow as they could. Seth wasn’t very good; at least Jim thought so every time he missed the scarecrow, but Seth had an aversion to hitting it and picked his own targets in the field, so, unbeknownst to Jim, Seth was gradually improving.

On the seventh night Seth felt an itching in his pyjama pocket. He tried to ignore it, but it kept him up most of the night until he dipped his hand into the pocket and found the plastic button. It was warm, but that could be because it was against his thigh, thought Seth. It stayed warm throughout the night and in the morning a drop of water had formed against the rim. He kept it with him from then on, but how it had managed to find its way into his pocket in the first place, he didn’t discover.

*

On the eight day, after the fifth or sixth ball, Seth asked Jim about the scarecrow. He didn’t know much about it. Alice had made it a long time ago; this was, after all, her childhood home. There had been several in the other fields, but they all fell down and rotted into the ground, which he didn’t report to Alice and, as they weren’t technically their fields anymore, but rented from the large farm at the bottom of the valley, he didn’t see the need. Seth learnt then that this was Jim’s field, well Alice’s as well. Well, Alice’s really, he supposed, if she grew up here. The other fields had been sold to the bottom farm and now she and Jim just rented what they needed.

Seth stayed a while once Jim was done. Jim shrugged and disappeared with the dog into the woods (its foot was much better now).

Once he was out of sight Seth went to the scarecrow for a closer look. He rummaged through pockets, tied its laces on its straw feet and held the eye up to what would have been a socket, if it were human. He felt it looked as though it sighed at that moment. A mournful sigh, the kind he had heard his grandma use when thinking about her husband, his grandpa, who he’d never known. He heard that sigh over and over as he walked back to the cottage and back to Alice who was pottering, as usual.

“I made that scarecrow years back now, Seth”.

He watched her work, and, aware he was waiting, she ploughed on. “He was the last I made, that one. All the others are fallen and rotting, Jim doesn’t like to tell me, thinks it’ll upset me, but I know anyway.”

She fidgeted a little, he thought, as she told him the story.

“That one is all made up of your grandpa’s clothes, even his button eyes.”

“Grandpa?” said Seth inching forward on his chair.

 

 

Chapter Five

Alice looked Seth in the eyes, closely, almost for the first time by the way she took him in. “He’s the reason all those fields up there now belong to the bottom farm. He was a bad lot, but your grandma loved him. Loved him more than us, she did.” Her eyes reddened, he could see, ever so slightly at that. This was the most she’d ever spoken to him. “Nasty man, used to lock me and your mother in the barn, or in a shed, used to think it was very funny. He forgot about us once! He was a malevolent soul that one, evil your mother said. I enjoyed fashioning him into that old scarecrow. That’s about the only contribution he ever made round here.”

She ended suddenly. Jim was back. The dog settled down. Seth ran his thumb over the button in his pocket. He smiled at the thought of Alice locked up in one of the sheds. They were dark and there was mud on the floors, if you were trapped in there you wouldn’t have an inch of clean space to sit down on. He wondered how long she was locked in there and he wondered again how Simon’s snake was doing. Snakes spat out the bones of things they ate after a while, he supposed the snake might, by now, have spat out a nice neat skeleton. He realised though he had heard snapping, some of the ribs must have fractured and broken. The smile that had run up his face stopped and became thoughtful: the nice neat skeleton in his mind was now a pile of broken bones and not quite so entertaining of a thought. However, he comforted himself with the fact that he had for a moment changed something in the world.

After a light lunch and a strong cup of tea, Seth wandered over to the sheds to look about: he imagined being trapped there, he even closed the door on himself, though he made sure first the bolt was free outside and not likely to sink into the clasp. The room was damp, smells of rot and straw mixed with muck from one animal or another filled the air. In the eaves old nests were now homes for black legged spiders, their homes a maze of ancient webs.

The light was minimal; the door faced north and the light he could see was dull under the door’s gap. That vacant space darkened as he concentrated on it, a thin mist filling it. Opening the door, Seth found no fog and no mist outside, just the shadow of the shed; the button was warm in his pocket. He looked back into the shed, but saw nothing now but the imagined ghosts of his aunt and mother crying in the cold and dark.

*

On the ninth day everything began as it had each and every day. Each and every day he checked the beans in the sugar, they had begun to gather mould and he had stopped taking sugar, but he didn’t think Alice had noticed. He joined Jim and hit golf balls and afterwards he gathered them up. Jim had begun to leave him to this task, pleased he had something to do while he went about his jobs. Seth wasn’t sure what it was he did but he was happy to have his time alone. On this day he noticed a great mob of crows scattered about, some sat on branch tops at the edge of the wood, others circled overhead, settling on telegraph wires temporarily before setting off again. Each and every day the mob had seemed to grow he thought then.

Once all the golf balls were in his pocket he decided to head for the top again: an idea had drifted into his mind. He hadn’t realised, but as it settled in his thoughts he had patted the shoulder of his grandpa’s scarecrow. At the brow of the hill he began to arrange himself. The birds spread their wings and took flight, others hopped from one branch to the next, but gradually part of the gang began to reclaim their residence around his grandpa’s scarecrow and the ground was thick with black winged beasts pecking at the ground.

Picking his target carefully Seth took aim and swung with all his force. A mass of feathers shot into the air as the troop of birds around his grandpa’s feet took flight. Only one was left; a body twitched on the ground. A shiver of joy sprang up Seth’s back and he beamed. A flicker of sun snuck out and seemed to share his delight.

It wasn’t long before the crows began to fly about again, restlessly, circling their favourite haunt and before long they settled once again, ignoring the state of their fallen brother as they pecked about at the ground.

Seth took aim again, this time choosing a king of a bird, large but mawkish with a dirty cowl: the ball shot furiously through the air and thumped the bird full in the chest. The sound was audible all the way at the top of the field and Seth punched the air with excitement.

By the time he ran out of balls a sweat had formed on his brow and his skin was tight around his forehead. A muddy smudge under his eye gave him an almost primitive look and his eyes shone with the enchantment of his new found distraction. It wasn’t anything on the cat, he realised that; nothing had changed, no one had seen, the only witnesses were the useless swarm of black beasts in the sky above.

None set foot on the ground by his grandpa, nor in the branches in the wood. They clung to the safety of the sky and circled looking steeply down on Seth as he collected up the balls. He collected up the bodies too and later that day began a collection in the shed, stringing them from their feet along a thin piece of cord. A nice neat collection, he thought.

 

Chapter Six

Several days went by like this. The beans became flaky and fell apart; occasionally his grandma called, but all the time his collection grew as day by day he spent more and more time with his grandpa. They made a good team: grandpa lured them in – what bird could resist perching on a man-made of straw and remnants! Seth enjoyed this sense of teamwork, a dark joy shared. He was certain his grandpa would have approved. He may have even rewarded him. He sometimes lingered by his grandpa, his hand on his shoulder and shared all the tricks he had played on his grandma, even before the cat and the snake. He told him about the time he watched a man walk into a post while looking at his watch. The time Eleanor Salisbury had found two cracked birds eggs in her gym shoes. He probably told his grandpa about flooding the girls toilets two or three times during the course of the week and he made sure to describe in detail the snapping sound the cat’s ribs had made as it sank deeper into the belly of Simple Simon’s snake and he made sure he didn’t leave out the look in his grandma’s eyes. The scarecrow seemed to enjoy these stories and Seth’s company; Seth had seen his grandpa nod and beam brightly at each trick and taunt Seth had played. He even laughed: no more sighing. From the top of the hill Seth even shouted this:

“No more sighing Grandpa!”

With a new sack full of black bodies Seth made his way back to the farm, he even skipped some of the way, but when he was closer he snuck into the disused shed and strung up his new batch of murders, ducking under each row as he did so.

Taking his tea in the kitchen he couldn’t resist smiling, openly. Alice saw him. It was the first time she could remember him smiling. She watched from the corner of her eye. She watched and began to feel cold. She saw then that the dog kept its distance from Seth. It had always been a friendly dog. She saw that the dog never looked at Seth either. In the reflection of the glass above the sink she also saw Seth pretending to take sugar from the bowl and saw him smile at what he saw there.

Seth slept soundly again that night.

*

At breakfast he ate slowly, there was a thick mizzle outside and the wood burnt in the fire with a comforting crackle. When Alice had her back to him he went through the charade of taking sugar from the bowl and took another look at his beans, only this time they weren’t there. They were gone. Alice finished the last of the pans. The last one clattering on the draining board. Sitting at the table she sipped her tea and looked into Seth’s eyes again, deeply this time and more intensely than before. He thought she looked as though she recognised him, but it was a silly thought – of course she did. Her lips pursed, “this tea’s bitter.”  Taking the top from the sugar bowl, she took a heaped scoop and dropped it into her cup, stirring slowly. Seth couldn’t look. His body was rigid, his toes numb and a fiery heat burnt at the centre of his brow.

She knew.

He felt stupid then.

How stupid. How foolish of him.

“You going up field this morning? Jim’s down bottom farm with some new stock.” She sipped her tea tenderly, each sip between a smile.

Seth realised he should say yes. He did and he left. His feet were quiet, he moved stiffly, as though he didn’t want to disturb even the air around him.

He missed three birds that morning. He hadn’t missed any before and he knew his grandpa wasn’t pleased. His grandpa looked dour in the mizzle. Disappointed. Seth couldn’t even break the silence between them with a new story. He began to tell him about the baby in the pram: he had moved it from one aisle in the supermarket to the next and hidden at the end by the magazines. This new revelation of his grandson’s cunning didn’t even raise an eyebrow. It seemed that this morning his grandpa looked straight through him.

Seth’s feet swung into motion, back to the house, his head was slumped forward and he kicked at the muddy sods as he trudged on. Even stringing up his hoard didn’t raise his spirits and he banged the door with a petulant sigh before slinking off to his room where he sat at the window seat.

Seth hadn’t been sat long at the window before he heard the side door swing shut and footsteps in the yard, they slapped at the wet ground. Alice was at the shed’s door and looking in.

Flying down the stairs Seth could think of only one thing: he had never been found out! Never. The shed door crashed against Alice’s back and she went flying in amongst the strings of corpses, scattering them to the floor, herself falling, hands outspread to break her fall. Mud and muck mixed with the blood from the skin she scraped away on her palms and darkness fell around her as the door bolted shut from the outside.

A cold glee overcame Seth. He had never been found out. Never. And he’d never done anything like this. Never. The edges of his eyes tickled, his body shook and he danced manically around the yard, his boots clipping and clopping like a pony in the wild. He had seen them. Jim had shown him some not far from the farm. Jim had smiled and laughed as the youngest skipped about its mother and this is what Seth felt he looked like. If Jim saw him now he would probably smile the same way and Seth laughed out loud at this. Imagining Jim laughing and smiling at him, all the while not knowing why he smiled so much.

 

Chapter Seven

It was evening before Jim came home. He unbolted the shed and Alice tumbled out. Her face was covered in muddy streaks and her clothes were a state. She looked like a ghost or a witch Seth thought. Jim cleaned her up as best he could and put her in the car. He was taking her to A&E to have them look at her hands and maybe give her a tetanus injection: he couldn’t remember the last time she had one.

That night it was cold: Jim had sent him to bed early, apologising for the situation, but in his haste he had forgotten to put the heating on. Seth sat shivering and sleep was evasive. When, finally, he did slip into a deep sleep he dreamt he was a crow flapping about his aunt’s head in the shed.

He woke to the sound of hushed voices and the clink and clatter of Jim and Alice arranging a quick supper before they themselves turned in. He shivered again then, and, as a shadow passed under the lip of his door he threw himself back under the covers. A careful hand opened the door, looked in and closed it again as quietly as was possible. Seth lay there wondering who it had been, Alice or Jim. He imagined it was Jim: it wouldn’t be Alice.

*

In the morning he found the kitchen empty. He made himself his tea and put on some toast. He didn’t see the dog anywhere.

Outside the weather had cleared and he could see blue sky for the first time that week. Across the yard he could see the shed door was open. The scrape of a boot made him jump as he turned. Jim stood in the doorway. Alice was behind him.

“Cup of tea sweetheart?” Jim asked.

“Two sugars” Alice replied, all the time looking at Seth. She smiled. Seth couldn’t believe it and for a moment his thoughts flew about wildly, as wildly as the corpse crows in his dreams. He had locked her in the shed. He had, hadn’t he? If so, why was she smiling so warmly? Warmer in fact than the first time he had met her.

“We’re taking a walk this morning Seth and we’d like you to join us.” There was a tone in Jim’s voice that Seth didn’t like and he knew he couldn’t refuse.

Jim and Alice took their breakfast and sipped their tea. All the time they talked: the weather, the new stock, how many pups the Chambers’ Spaniel had last week, Seth’s grandma, farming chatter – but Seth didn’t understand this. His tea was cold, but he didn’t make a fresh one. Eventually though, they finished and packed up. Wordlessly they left the cottage and marched up the path to the top field.

The sun beamed so brightly Seth had to squint as he walked behind Jim – Alice was behind him, her bag over her shoulder. The sun felt warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it like this: in London probably, but he couldn’t compare it to this.

Jim marched straight up to Seth’s grandpa’s scarecrow and without hesitation levered it out of the ground. It came up without any hesitation, willingly. Jim and Alice took a good look at it and dropped it to the ground. His grandpa’s button eye was firmly between Seth’s thumb and forefinger, but it was cold, almost icy.

Alice took the bag off her shoulder and swung a rolling pin down on Seth’s head, he sunk to the ground his knees sticking in the wet earth for a moment before his weight eased him over to his side. He felt a warm wet trickle pass over his cheek and closed one eye.

Jim hoisted him up. He took off Seth's shoes and removed his shirt replacing it with the one he had arrived in and the jacket he had worn that night at the train station. Alice padded him out with straw and pulled his black woolly hat over his head. Lastly they took out a muslin sack and pulled it over his head, it was filled with dry straw and scratched his skin. His one eye could see their shapes through the material: they were standing, hands on hips admiring their work. Jim moved one hand from his hip and round Alice’s shoulder, squeezing her tight.

Seth heard them say it was a nice job as Alice applied the finishing touches: two buttons from an old cardy his grandma had given him. The needle glided in and out the muslin cloth pulling the button in tight over his eyes until he could only just see around the edges.

A wet trickle began once more to descend across his cheek.

“We’ll take grandpa up to the top now, Seth. He’s been a bad influence on you and he should be made to see how low he’s brought his only grandson. He won’t be ashamed, that man never was, but I doubt he’ll be happy with how it’s all turned out.”

As she swung about his grandpa’s head fell from its perch.

“Rotten all the way through Alice, you’ll have to make a repair.”

Seth looked round the dark corner of his new button eye and saw the head in the dark soil. His grandpa’s head: a skull, hanging onto dried flesh around the cheeks, sat in Jim’s big palm. He stuffed it back in its cloth cover and turned his back on Seth.

Alice looked once more at Seth, through him, to his core: “Eyes are just like your grandpa’s, Seth. Can’t be having that.” The rolling pin swished through the air and thumped him once more, just for good measure.

As Jim and Alice re-settled Seth’s grandpa, the crows began to gather and gradually settle at Seth’s feet, pecking and stomping at the ground. The livelier birds hopped from one shoulder to the other, excited, while others perched on elbows and wrists now tightly bound to the scarecrow’s wooden frame.