His mother was already squatting beneath the first of the cows. He left the animals in the barns and opened the hay stores, slopped the pigs, and ran to fetch a wooden milk bucket. Some chores could wait a day, but the stock still needed to be fed and the cows milked. Arlen returned to his work, not needing to be told to hurry. His father had friends amongst the Cutters.
One long and two short meant south and east. How many times had this happened, that he could picture her reaction so clearly? There was a pause, and then the horn blew twice in rapid succession.
Behind Arlen, the door to the house opened, and he knew his mother was there, covering her mouth with both hands. Again the horn was blown, this second note longer and clearer.
A quiet dread built in his gut as he waited in the morning stillness, hoping that it had been his imagination. Morning mist still clung to the air, bringing with its damp an acrid taste that was all too familiar. Arlen paused in his work, looking up at the lavender wash of the dawn sky. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic All rights reserved. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Brett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978 0 00 727613 4 This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Voyager HarperCollinsPublishers 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB Published by Harper Voyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2008Ĭopyright © Peter V.
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