The boy stood up and wrapped the blanket tightly around his thin body. Nat watched, mute, as he hesitated at the door leading to the moonlit garden. Then, suddenly, the boy disappeared into the night. Nat was left sitting on the floor, wondering what on earth to do next. But as he was about to find out, when the astonishing happens, you just get on with it.

CHAPTER 5
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

For three generations, the Tate family had worked the farm and neighboring lands at Temple St. William. But the prizewinning dairy herd of doe-eyed Jersey cattle had long gone. All that remained of the family farm, apart from the land and buildings, were a few elderly sheep and some eggless chickens.

Alec Tate cut a lonely figure as he watched the last of the sheep being loaded into his neighbor’s trailer. On completion of the sale, loads of money would be paid into Alec’s account by some fancy London developers. He was surprised and disappointed to find that the thought brought him no joy at all. He gazed across the land that would not be owned by a Tate much longer, and wondered briefly if his father and grandfather were turning over in their graves.

After a moment he turned away. Much of the pastureland bordered the vast East Wood, which to Alec represented two hundred horrific acres, and the sight of it unfailingly made his belly churn with greasy unease.

In the 1960s, when Alec had been a relatively young man, parts of the wood had been cordoned off in order to study the biodiversity of the area, and designated “Sites of Special Scientific Interest.” East Wood was notorious for people going missing within its boundaries, but it also had something special to offer, especially for folk who liked to study such things. Controversially, the woods were owned and managed not by the local Temple Gurney Wildlife Trust, which would be usual in the circumstances, but by the government.

A few months after the government takeover, following the discreet arrival of researchers and scientists, wild rumors began to fly around Temple Gurney and neighboring villages. Locals began making their own assumptions about what went on up at Helleborine Halt, which was the name of the elegant country mansion now used as the research headquarters. The general consensus of local opinion was that the government was studying species rather more diverse than a few rare flowers.

Stories of hairy, orange-eyed beasties lurking in farm outbuildings were never proved, but the fact remained that people disappeared without a trace from time to time, and sheep and cattle were slaughtered in the fields, often savagely mauled beyond recognition. The government was forced to issue a statement to the tune of “We Have Nothing to Hide,” and Helleborine Halt, a few miles from Alec’s farm, was opened to the public to prove their point.