processes occurring within the wood, and the life forms that existed there. Instead he fell back on the old standby. "Traveling folk. Tinkers. Romanies. Some of these bits and bobs might be years old, generations. All sorts of people have lived in and around the edge of our wood."
The boy stepped forward and tentatively picked up the wooden figure, holding it, turning it over, then grimly placing it down again.
Huxley said, "Did I upset you this morning?"
Oddly, the boy shook his head.
"But you came to the study. You saw me… ?"
"I heard you shouting by the wood. I was frightened."
"Why were you frightened?"
"I thought… I thought someone was attacking you…"
"
Was
someone attacking me?"
The boy's gaze dropped. He fidgeted, biting his lip, then looked up again, and there was fear in his eyes.
"It's all right, Steven. Just tell me what you saw…"
"You were all gray and green. You were very angry…"
"What do you mean, I was all gray and green?" "Funny colors, like light on water. I couldn't see you properly. You were so fast. You were shouting. There was an awful smell of blood, like when Fonce kills the chickens."
Alphonsus Jeffries, the farm manager for the Manor. Steven had been taken around the farm several times, and had witnessed the natural life of the domestic animals, and their unnatural death with knife and cleaver. "Where were you when you saw this, did you say?" "By the woods…" Steven whispered. His lips trembled and tears filled his eyes. Huxley remained seated, leaning forward, holding his son's gaze hard and firm. "Grow up, boy. You've seen something very strange. I'm asking you about it. You want to be a scientist, don't you?"
Steven hesitated, then nodded.
"Then tell me everything. You were by the woods…"
"I thought you called me."
"From the woods…"
"You called me."
"And then?"
"I went over the field and you were all gray and green. You ran past me. I was frightened. I could hardly see you. Just a little bit. You were all gray and green. I was frightened…"
"How fast did I pass you?"
"Daddy… ? I'm frightened…"
"Be quiet, Steven. Stand still. Stop crying. How fast did I pass you?"
"Very fast. I couldn't see you."
"Faster than our car?"
"I think so. You ran up to here. I followed you and heard you shouting."
"What was I shouting?"
"Rude things." The boy squirmed beneath his father's gaze. "Rude things. About Mummy."
Stunned and sickened, Huxley bit back the question he longed to ask, stood up from his desk and walked past the wan-faced lad, into the garden.
Rude things about Mummy…
"How do you know the man you saw was me?" he murmured.
Steven ran past him, distressed and suddenly angry. The boy turned sharply, eyes blazing, but said nothing.
Huxley said, "Steven. The man you saw… whoever it was… it only
looked
like me. Do you understand that? It wasn't me at all. It only
looked
like me."
The answer was a growl, a shaking, feverish, feral growl, in which the words were dimly discernible from the furious face, the dark face of the boy as he backed slowly away, sinking into himself, lowering his body, eyes on his father. Angry.
"It…
was
… you… It…
was
… you…"
And then Steven had fled, running to the gate. He left the garden and crossed the field almost frantically, plunging into the nearby woods.
Huxley hesitated for a moment, half thinking that it would be better for the boy to calm down first before pursuing the matter further. But he was too intrigued by Steven's glimpse of the ghost.
He picked up one of Wynne-Jones's frontal-lobe bridges and trotted after his son.
NINE
As I had imagined he would, the boy became intrigued when I told him about the frontal-lobe bridges (I called them "electrical crowns"). He was hovering in the edgewoods, shaking, by the time I reached him. I have never seen Steven so distressed, not even after he and Christian glimpsed the Twigling, and were given a great fright. I said that WJ and myself had been
The boy stepped forward and tentatively picked up the wooden figure, holding it, turning it over, then grimly placing it down again.
Huxley said, "Did I upset you this morning?"
Oddly, the boy shook his head.
"But you came to the study. You saw me… ?"
"I heard you shouting by the wood. I was frightened."
"Why were you frightened?"
"I thought… I thought someone was attacking you…"
"
Was
someone attacking me?"
The boy's gaze dropped. He fidgeted, biting his lip, then looked up again, and there was fear in his eyes.
"It's all right, Steven. Just tell me what you saw…"
"You were all gray and green. You were very angry…"
"What do you mean, I was all gray and green?" "Funny colors, like light on water. I couldn't see you properly. You were so fast. You were shouting. There was an awful smell of blood, like when Fonce kills the chickens."
Alphonsus Jeffries, the farm manager for the Manor. Steven had been taken around the farm several times, and had witnessed the natural life of the domestic animals, and their unnatural death with knife and cleaver. "Where were you when you saw this, did you say?" "By the woods…" Steven whispered. His lips trembled and tears filled his eyes. Huxley remained seated, leaning forward, holding his son's gaze hard and firm. "Grow up, boy. You've seen something very strange. I'm asking you about it. You want to be a scientist, don't you?"
Steven hesitated, then nodded.
"Then tell me everything. You were by the woods…"
"I thought you called me."
"From the woods…"
"You called me."
"And then?"
"I went over the field and you were all gray and green. You ran past me. I was frightened. I could hardly see you. Just a little bit. You were all gray and green. I was frightened…"
"How fast did I pass you?"
"Daddy… ? I'm frightened…"
"Be quiet, Steven. Stand still. Stop crying. How fast did I pass you?"
"Very fast. I couldn't see you."
"Faster than our car?"
"I think so. You ran up to here. I followed you and heard you shouting."
"What was I shouting?"
"Rude things." The boy squirmed beneath his father's gaze. "Rude things. About Mummy."
Stunned and sickened, Huxley bit back the question he longed to ask, stood up from his desk and walked past the wan-faced lad, into the garden.
Rude things about Mummy…
"How do you know the man you saw was me?" he murmured.
Steven ran past him, distressed and suddenly angry. The boy turned sharply, eyes blazing, but said nothing.
Huxley said, "Steven. The man you saw… whoever it was… it only
looked
like me. Do you understand that? It wasn't me at all. It only
looked
like me."
The answer was a growl, a shaking, feverish, feral growl, in which the words were dimly discernible from the furious face, the dark face of the boy as he backed slowly away, sinking into himself, lowering his body, eyes on his father. Angry.
"It…
was
… you… It…
was
… you…"
And then Steven had fled, running to the gate. He left the garden and crossed the field almost frantically, plunging into the nearby woods.
Huxley hesitated for a moment, half thinking that it would be better for the boy to calm down first before pursuing the matter further. But he was too intrigued by Steven's glimpse of the ghost.
He picked up one of Wynne-Jones's frontal-lobe bridges and trotted after his son.
NINE
As I had imagined he would, the boy became intrigued when I told him about the frontal-lobe bridges (I called them "electrical crowns"). He was hovering in the edgewoods, shaking, by the time I reached him. I have never seen Steven so distressed, not even after he and Christian glimpsed the Twigling, and were given a great fright. I said that WJ and myself had been
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