Читать книгу Fire Damage: A gripping thriller that will keep you hooked - Kate Medina, Kate Medina - Страница 19

Wendy Chubb rubbed a hand against the window. Steam from the washing-up bowl had clouded the glass, but even so she was sure that she had seen a flash of light in the garden. She stared hard through the smeared circle she had rubbed clear. Only darkness now.

The light from the house washed the patio next to it with a feeble glow, but beyond that the night was thick and black, the hills that rose up on either side of the house seeming to suck whatever moonlight there was from the garden.

What had made her look out the window anyway? A noise? Had it been a noise? Tilting her head, she listened. She heard the old house creaking, the walls murmuring to each other, the knock of air in the pipes, the gurgle of hot water filling the radiators. Wind bristled the trees in the garden. Her gaze swept left to right through the glass, straining to make out the line of leylandii shielding the house from the road, the knot of apple trees in the centre of the garden, the pots lined up at the edge of the patio, plants in them dead from cold and neglect.

Suddenly she leapt back, her hand flying to her mouth, smothering a gasp of surprise and fear. A bright flash. Right up close to the house, barely five metres from where she was standing. She breathed hard, trying to settle the hammering of her heart. What on earth was there to be afraid of? Now that she thought for a moment, fear felt ridiculous. She was inside a locked house, Major Scott in the sitting room across the hallway. And there was clearly a rational explanation for the light.

Sami? Was he outside with his torch? She hurried to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Sami.’ No answer. She leaned against the banister, shouted, ‘Sami.’

Silence.

‘Sami.’

Light hurried footsteps, the boards creaking above her head.

‘Yes.’ His voice sounding timid.

Poor kid.

‘Oh. I wondered if you’d …’ she broke off. ‘Don’t worry, darling. You carry on playing. I’ll be up in five minutes to put you to bed.’ Stupid woman. Of course he hadn’t gone outside. He couldn’t reach the lock and the Yale was far too stiff for him, even if he could. She stuck her head into the sitting room. Major Scott was in the leather chair, asleep he looked to be, breathing heavily, mouth open, a globule of saliva gathered on his bottom lip. Wendy glanced at her watch. Nooria’s train wasn’t due into Aldershot for another half-hour.

Back in the kitchen, she hung by the door, not wanting to approach the window, feeling ridiculous at the tight knot of fear in her stomach. Stepping firmly across the kitchen, she pressed her face to the glass.

No lights. Nobody out there. Just the soupy darkness, wind moving the trees, black outlines shifting and twitching, but purely due to the wind. And transposed over it all, the pale, frightened moon of her own face.