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To his surprise, Bob Coffin did look through the fence. Charlie sniffed miserably and said, ‘My tooth is sore.’

Everything was suddenly very quiet, as if the sky itself was holding its breath while the huntsman stood there, motionless in the sun, the broom held loosely in his hand.

Loose and close to Jonas.

Loose enough and close enough for him to grab? Coffin never got this close to him. The man was always wary around him, even though he was the one who was chained to a fence. Jonas shifted position slowly and slightly, testing his wasting muscles, wondering how fast he could still move.

He licked his dry lips and went on, ‘Look how sad he is. What’s the point of keeping him here when it’s not making him happy?’

Coffin raised his arm and Jonas’s whole body seized in readiness. But the man only touched the bottom of his stocking mask, as if he might lift it.

Jonas watched Coffin walk a tightrope strung between compassion and craziness. The wind thrummed the high wire, and the huntsman wobbled – and Jonas swayed a little closer to the broom. From the corner of his eye he could see Steven gripping the fence, tense with anticipation. Jonas’s hand twitched—

Coffin grunted. He dropped his hand from the stocking mask. He picked the hose out of the overflowing bucket, walked out, and locked the kennel gate behind him.

‘Shit,’ said Steven.

Jonas slumped back against the fence, sick with disappointment. He’d hesitated. On the off-chance that Coffin would be rational, he’d put all his eggs in one basket case.

Lucy, I blew it.

He covered his face with his hands and his body let go of the tension in a long, shuddering breath. He felt fingers in his hair, smoothing him like a loved pet.

‘One man went to mow,’ sang Charlie cautiously. ‘Went to mow a medal. One man and his dog …’ He waited for one of the others to supply the part that Teddy had sometimes sung. Jess or Steven often did. But today there was only a yawning hole in the air.

And then Jonas felt his heart jolt as if he’d touched a live wire.

One man and his dog …

Bob Coffin had got rid of the hounds. That meant he had shot them.

And that meant he had a gun.

53

REYNOLDS HELD A press conference in the Red Lion’s skittle alley, and released the information about the green woollen gloves. It wasn’t huge, but any breakthrough was enough to keep the story in the news, and Davey swelled with pride as he heard DI Reynolds say that this latest information had come from him.

‘Davey’s memory of events is becoming clearer all the time,’ he added, ‘and he’s making a tremendous effort to help his brother in whatever way he can.’

Lettie stroked his back and Nan said, ‘Well done, Davey,’ and Davey went to bed so excited about the green-woollen-glove breakthrough that he could hardly sleep. He was sure that by that night the police would have received a tip-off. Steven could be home by tomorrow!

But by the next evening Davey had learned another valuable lesson – that sometimes truth has to be its own reward.

* * *

I love them.

Funny how it’s the big un what understands that. Appreciates what I done. I always thought he was a bit mazed, but turns out he’s the one with the brains, after all!

Anyway, it’s good to know that someone’s on my side. Made me happy when he said that.

But that poor little Charlie. Can’t be having ’em sickly and shitting that way. That’s not right. Them’s my responsibility and I got to take better care of ’em. Else I’m as bad as them what left ’em alone.

Old Murton always told me, if you can’t feed it, don’t keep it. And he were right about most things.

So if I want to keep ’em, I got to try harder to feed ’em.

54

THE HUNTSMAN WAS late.

There was no bang as he left the cottage in the morning, no squealing rumble as the big shed door was pushed aside on its metal runner, no soft explosion in the incinerator, no sssssshh of the knife that would separate bone from cartilage from tendon for them to eat.

Within minutes of his being overdue, the children grew restless, and before the hour was up they were nervous and fractious.

‘Where is he?’ Jess Took kept saying. ‘He’s never late.’

But he was.

Jonas and Steven exchanged worried looks.

Charlie sang ‘Ten Green Bottles’ quietly, while Pete clung to the chain link at the front of his kennel, craning to see up the walkway and occasionally murmuring, ‘I thought that was him’ under his breath.

‘He’s never late,’ Jess said again, as if words alone would make it true.

Steven turned his back to her and spoke softly to Jonas. ‘How long should we wait?’

Jonas frowned. ‘Before what?’

Steven opened his mouth, then closed it again. Before what indeed? Before escaping? Before calling for help? If those things had been realistic options then they would have worked already.

‘Maybe we should save our water a bit,’ said Jonas.