BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  15. 9.
  16. 10.
  17. 11.
  18. 12.
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. 31.
  38. 32.
  39. 33.
  40. 34.
  41. 35.
  42. 36.
  43. PART III
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. 40.
  48. 41.
  49. 42.
  50. 43.
  51. 44.
  52. 45.
  53. 46.
  54. 47.
  55. 48.
  56. 49.
  57. 50.
  58. 51.
  59. 52.
  60. 53.
  61. 54.
  62. 55.
  63. 56.
  64. 57.
  65. 58.
  66. 59.
  67. 60.
  68. 61.
  69. 62.
  70. 63.
  71. 64.
  72. 65.
  73. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

“No,” said Liz, “but that Family Bible is. I want that back, and before dark.” She pulled open one of the kitchen drawers; inside was a police stab vest. Tony had come home with it one night – claimed he’d nicked it from the old station, though more likely he’d bought it off some bloke in the pub while hammered. She put the vest on under her sweater, went to the kitchen table and pulled on her coat, then shoved the target pistol into a pocket and picked up her shotgun. “Tool up,” she said. “We’re going to Barsall.”

45.

45.

When Ellie first got Reuben out of the Vicarage, she had to drag him by his lead, eventually giving up and carrying him. Halfway up Church Street – thankfully, as it was an uphill climb – he began to squirm in her arms, so she set him down and he practically towed her up the slope.

As she plodded down the High Street he kept stopping and tensing; he’d sniff the ground and shy away, no doubt having caught a whiff of the creatures’ scent, but as they approached the war memorial Reuben began pulling on the lead, claws scrabbling on the pavement. Charlotte Famuyiwa and Kate Beck were outside the Assemblies church, Charlotte pushing a wheelchair in which a familiar figure huddled.

“Hey,” said Ellie. “Madeleine.”

Madeleine looked up at her and managed a weak wan smile. She was pale. Sweat on her forehead; shivering. “Ell. Reuben.”

The dog pulled forward and set his front paws in her lap; Madeleine stroked his head. “Shona?” she said at last. “Snapper?”

Snapper: that had been the Jack Russell’s name. Ellie shook her head; Madeleine closed her eyes in pain, then winced as she leant back in her chair, sheer exhaustion in her face. “God almighty,” said Ellie. “Get her inside.”

Kate nodded to the lead. “Want me to take him?”

“Please. Can you take this too?” Ellie shrugged off the rucksack. “Hope you don’t mind, Mad – pillaged your cupboards a bit.”

“Pass it here,” Madeleine held out her arms. “Meant to suggest it before.” She hugged the rucksack to her chest. Her head sank forward and her eyebrows drooped.

Ellie looked up at the girls. “Seen Ernie anywhere?”

“Groveley Meadow, I think,” said Charlotte.

Ellie squeezed Madeleine’s shoulder. “Take care, mate. I’ll catch you up.”

Madeleine nodded tiredly. Charlotte wheeled her into the church; Kate followed with the dog. God knew what Milly would say to that, but Ellie wasn’t staying to find out. She carried on, now with a lighter faster step, up Halliwell Way.

A footpath led off Halliwell Way just before the bridge across Groveley Beck, which snaked down through the fields from the Holy Well in Blackfield Park. Ellie trudged over Groveley Meadow, which took up most of the space inside the trapezoid formed by Barsall’s four main roads – Blackfield Grove, the High Street, Smithy Lane and Halliwell Way