Page 58 of The Memory Wood

‘How far?’

‘Five minutes, if I run. Our place, it’s … it’s just the same as this.’

‘It’s a cottage too?’

‘Tied cottages, they’re called. All the cottages on the estate are tied.’

Gretel licks her lips, leaving a sheen of saliva. ‘Tied how?’

‘It means they belong to the landowner and he rents them out to his employees. At least, that’s what it used to mean.’

‘It doesn’t now?’

I shrug. ‘I’m no expert.’

‘What’s the estate called?’

Even if I answer Gretel’s question, I doubt she’ll remember what I said. And it’s nothing I didn’t share with Bryony, and all the others before her. ‘Meunierfields,’ I say. ‘Leon Meunierowns it. He’s a lord, a hereditary peer, which means if he has children they’ll inherit his title. He doesn’t, though. Not yet. He’s got a wife, but …’ I shrug. I’ve never really understood why the Meuniers don’t have kids. ‘Are you hungry?’

No answer. I look at the licked-clean bowl, stumped for what to do next. Finally, from my pocket, I pull out a handkerchief. ‘It’s not much,’ I say, tossing it into her lap. ‘We had cauliflower cheese for supper. I couldn’t bring you any of that, but there was a bit of cheese left in the grater. Just Cheddar, but still nice.’

Gretel makes no move to unwrap it. ‘Can I trust you, Elijah?’ she asks, gazing into my light.

‘Of course you can.’

‘Is the cheese going to make me sick?’

I can hardly believe the question. ‘No.’

‘Why do you keep coming down here?’

‘Because I like you. Because I want to help you.’

‘If you wanted to help me, you’d get me out of here. You’d tell someone. Someone who could do something. You’d tell the police.’

‘If I did that, I’d lose you.’

‘No. You wouldn’t.’

‘Yes. Becausethey’dfind out. And before anyone could come, they’d kill you.’

‘They’re going to kill me anyway unless you do something.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘They killed Bryony.’

‘That was different.’

‘She wasn’t the first. Was she?’

I stare at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Exactly that. Don’t tell me Bryony was the first one to wake up in thisbastard fucking place!’

Gretel whips out a hand, sending the empty bowl skippingacross the floor. My ears burn with her profanity. If Kyle was down here, he’d probably have the world’s biggest erection.

Snot is running from Gretel’s nose. I’m too polite to mention it. Just like I’m too polite to mention the stink coming from the red bucket.

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