‘Please,’ I said, and when I looked up I saw the bag.

A worn-leather Gladstone bag.

A Murder Bag.

Waiting for him on a dry patch of ground inside the pigpen.

A boot’s steel toecap slammed with full force into the base of my spine. The pain was blinding. I saw yellow light and exploding stars. I felt my back go into spasms of agony.

I realised I was screaming.

There were noises and lights but they were all inside my head. I dragged myself away on my hands and knees. I could not stand. I kept crawling. My muscles were paralysed slabs of pain and only my fear kept me moving. Time meant nothing but I knew it was passing because the ground changed beneath me, from the hard churned mud of the ploughed field to the carpet of dead leaves that covered the woods. And finally I was on grass. Now I heard voices that were not inside my head.

Then there was hot breath on the side of my face and I reared away in mortal panic.

‘Please,’ I said.

And I stared into the terrified face of the pig.

November: DreAms of the deAd

Chapter 14

14

I LAY ON my bed in the darkness and the sound of my daughter playing with the dog in the main room edged me closer to sleep. It was a soothing sound, their play – Scout’s laughter like temple bells, and the soft padding of the dog as he chased after whatever chewed-up old toy she was trailing. But then another spasm of pain would grip my back and I would jolt awake.

When they found me at the edge of the playing fields they had taken me to the nearest A&E to Potter’s Field. The doctor wanted to keep me in overnight but that was impossible. I had to get home to Scout. So, after the usual routine – lights in the eyes, questions about being sick, checking for broken bones – the doctor reluctantly let a uniformed officer drive me home where Mrs Murphy took one look at me and packed me off to bed, saying she would call her family, take care of Scout and sleep on our sofa. For a night and a day I stayed in my bed, true rest always just out of reach, the pain never far away.