TWO
February 2006
Adam felt the hairs crawling on the back of his neck. The familiar nightmarish fear was back. He gripped his fishing rod tightly. The woods rose up from the creek behind him dark and dense. He knew it was up there, watching him, he could feel it.
A moment ago, as he turned and reached for his jacket and glanced up at the trees, he had seen that the shadows had changed, knew the dark shape where light had been was someone, something, up there watching him. Waiting. Waiting until he had to pass it on the path before it jumped out at him.
He started to reel in his line, his ears alert for someone passing, then he could rush to the path and walk behind them back to the cottage. There was no sign of anyone else out on the creek path now. The curve of foreshore was deserted, only the sounds of curlews with their thin, quavering cries and a heron standing on one leg and the mist rolling towards him obscuring the sun as the tide slid inexorably in.
When he had secured his line, Adam closed his tin boxes, gathered his binoculars and made a little pile of his belongings. Now, he must turn slowly behind him to reach for his knapsack. He made himself look upwards into the wood. The shadow had gone. His path was clear. He threw his things into the bag, grabbed his rod and straightened up as the sun broke out again from behind a curtain of mist.
He took a step towards the old barn on the wharf to reach the path beyond it. He jumped violently, as half blinded by the sun he saw something lying against the wall of the building. He stared down at it. It was a woman, curled up on a coat, knees to her chin, wild hair hiding her face. She looked tiny, like a child, her thin arms folded round herself and she was very still. Jenny.
Adam stood frozen. He stared down at her and pity welled up in him, startling him with the power of it. His heart constricted, his eyes pricked at the sight of an adult stricken. His fear evaporated. It all began to make a weird kind of sense. Jenny had lost it. People sometimes went crazy when bad things happened.
He should run back to the cottage. He should fetch his mother, but somehow, he could not leave her lying vulnerable on her own on an old coat like a tramp. He just couldn’t. She lay oddly still. He put down his fishing rod, placed his knapsack on the ground and inched nearer to touch her.
She was not dead. Her flesh was warm to his fingers. At his touch she moved and opened her eyes. Adam backed away slightly. He did not know what to say.
Jenny, seeing him, struggled to a sitting position. He saw that her hands shook.
‘It’s all right,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s OK.’
She stared at him as if coming from some faraway place.
‘Adam.’ Her voice was husky, as if she had not spoken for some time. She held out a hand towards him. Adam could not quite bring himself to take it. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to run for Ruth. He was out of his depth.
Jenny’s hand fell to her side. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry for frightening you.’ Her voice was dull, her face bleak.
Adam crouched in front of her. ‘Why…why were you following me and hiding in the woods? I don’t understand.’
Jenny didn’t reply and Adam said, ‘I’m going