When he found tombstones marked with dates from five years ago, he noticed three graves decorated with an unusual sort of memorial—corn dolls stuck in the ground on wire stakes.
The three Cochran graves were neatly maintained, each decorated with wildflowers in a faceted glass vase that reflected the golden glow of the evening sun like an enormous jewel.
Squatting, Todd examined the corn dolls. All three were dressed and finished with faces like the ones Marigold made. Although his hunter's radar was quiet, giving him no reason to be wary, instinct stopped him touching the effigies. Had Marigold put them on the graves, or had someone else done it to soothe their guilty conscience?
The headstones bore nothing but names and dates. Todd pushed wearily to his feet, ready to leave, then something registered in the back of his mind. The blood drained out of his head, making his ears hum, as he reread the date they died.
The fire that killed the Cochrans had happened on the exact same day that Todd's father had disappeared.
***
That evening Todd felt exhausted. Strenuous physical activity didn't bother him, but the mental stress was getting to him.
He went to bed early, but all the things running around inside his head kept him awake. Deep into the night, when the noises outside in the street had quieted and the still of sleep hung in the air, the landing creaked. Although he'd been half asleep, Todd opened his eyes with a start, ears straining for the slightest sound. Each stair squeaked as someone, who could only be his grandpa, descended one cautious footstep at a time.
Todd climbed out of bed and pulled on his jeans and jacket over boxers and t-shirt. He nudged the curtain aside with his elbow while he pushed his feet into his trainers. He had his suspicion confirmed when Grandpa slipped out of the storeroom door into the street with a bag in his hand.
The older man glanced both ways as if he expected traffic, then looked up at Todd's window. Todd held his breath, trusting that in the darkness his face was not visible through the gap between the curtains. Grandpa turned and hurried down the road towards the harbor.
Todd bounded down the stairs, snagged the spare key from the hook in the kitchen, and headed for the storeroom. After unlocking the door, he poked out his head and checked the street was empty. He went out, relocked the door, and pocketed the key.
The village was silent but for the gentle hiss and rattle of the sea breathing its waves up and down the pebbles.
Todd ran down the sidewalk, keeping his steps as quiet as possible. He paused when he reached the corner at the end of the street before crossing the moonlit stretch of path by the harbor. A hundred feet in front of him, Grandpa's dark silhouette hurried up the cliff path. Todd jogged on, keeping out of the moonlight as much as possible.
When he caught up, he slowed to a walk, keeping the older man in sight. On top of the cliffs, the crashing of the sea against the rocks below echoed with elemental power, sending a prickling race of sensation across his skin. The familiar nocturnal excitement woke in his blood, and surged through his veins, demanding a hunt.
Todd flexed his fingers, fisted his hand as though he instinctively yearned for the feel of a weapon. The strange compulsion roused a whisper of fear. This sense was something new, something he had only started to feel since he arrived in Cornwall.
When he reached Lookout Cottage, Grandpa entered the front gate, then followed the path around the house to the back door. Todd skirted the garden and crouched behind the low wall. Ruby opened the door and Grandpa stepped inside.
Shadowy shapes moved behind the red-and-white checked kitchen curtains. Could Shaun's joke that Grandpa and Ruby were lovers be true? That would explain where Grandpa had gone on the night of the storm. It might also explain why he was so eager for Todd to be friends with Marigold. Was he planning to marry Ruby? Marigold would then become Todd's sister or cousin or maybe his aunt. He couldn't work out the relationship. He winced and tried to put the thought out of his mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Todd's breath faltered in shock. Marigold wore the same dark robe as Ruby and Grandpa, except where the adults had dark belts, hardly visible against their robes, Marigold's belt looked pale and shiny with glittery bits on the ends. She also carried a bunch of flowers in her hand. The three robed figures headed between the rows of vegetables towards the back gate, which led into the forest.
Todd took a few minutes to recover. He rose, dragging in lungfuls of damp air, trying to get his head around what he'd seen. With a curse, he tracked the garden wall to the back gate and followed them into the trees. Marigold had played him for a fool. All along, she had been involved with Grandpa in...whatever it was they were dressed up for. He'd be willing to bet it had something to do with the Wild Lord, and possibly the murders. Maybe they all seemed like suspects in Andrew's murder because they were
all
guilty.
A conspiracy?
Todd stopped and leaned his forehead on a tree, his heart pounding.
Grandpa and Marigold! Was Shaun involved too?
An incantation came back to Todd that his father used to whisper to him when he was upset.
Be still, be calm, root yourself in the soil, focus on the beat of tiny hearts, field mouse, vole, rabbit, mole.
He remembered snuggling on his dad's lap, listening to the reassuring rhyme. Dad had been so warm and solid and safe. For a few seconds, Todd was back there with his father's arms around him. Gradually, his breathing slowed and he could again sense the nocturnal creatures foraging among the trees.
Now was not the time to forget the lessons Dad had taught him. Now was the time to remain calm and seek the truth, however painful.
His nostrils flared at the pungent fragrance of woodsmoke tinged with the strange tang of the vagrant's brew. The pungent plant might be what messed up his hunter's radar. He pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt, pressed it over his nose to block the smoke, and hurried on.
Beneath the trees, where the moon didn't penetrate, the darkness was intense, a deep inky blackness seething with nocturnal life. He paused, listened, sensed rather than heard the three sets of footfalls. Trusting his radar, he veered right where the path divided, and headed deeper into the woods. Gradually the sounds of life around him quieted and the night grew still.
More of the bitter woodsmoke drifted between the trees and his hunter's senses blanked. Voices started chanting nearby. He angled his head, trying to identify the voices, but there were too many chanting together to pick out individuals, certainly more than three people. So there were other villagers involved. The sound seemed to drift around him and he couldn't be sure which direction the voices were coming from. He should never have let Grandpa and the Turpins out of his sight.
With an arm in front of his face to ward off the branches, he made slow progress. The chanting voices continued, but whichever way he turned seemed to be the wrong direction. Time wandered by. He didn't know if he'd been in the woods for minutes or hours. He turned in a circle, all sense of direction gone. This never happened to him.
Never
. Except in this damned woods. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, illuminating a narrow path between the trees. Ahead, he thought he saw figures moving. He ran along the path, branches whipping at his face. Eventually the forest thinned. He burst out into a clearing and skidded to a halt. His gaze swept the open area taking in the fact he was alone. His stab of annoyance faded when he saw the three standing stones. This was the clearing he'd discovered the first time he came to the woods.
A thin wisp of smoke rising from the fire pit at the center of the stone circle carried the pungent tang he recognized. Todd circled the stones and found flowers scattered at the foot of the stone with the carved face. Todd knelt and fingered the papery petals. They hadn't wilted yet. They must be the flowers Marigold had been holding. Were they an offering to the Green Man?
He found a stick and poked at the smoldering remains of the fire, hoping to fish out a leaf or twig he could use to identify what caused the smell. A few of the glowing twigs flared again then collapsed into ash.
In the faint light of the moon, he scanned the area, looking for anything that might tell him what had gone on here. He picked up a single gleaming gold thread that he guessed had fallen from Marigold's belt. He tucked the thread in his pocket and walked around the stone circle until he stood in front of the Green Man's face. When he'd arrived, the flowers on the ground had grabbed his attention. Now he noticed he'd missed something. On the granite beneath the carved face was a dark mark. He brushed his fingertips across the area, sniffed them, and smelled burnt wood. Someone had drawn a symbol or image on the megalith using charcoal, but it was too dark to see it.
The people who had recently vacated the clearing had left him just what he needed to make a light. Quickly, before the fire died, Todd grabbed a dead branch tipped with crispy dry leaves. He pushed the end in the fire pit. It caught light and he held his makeshift firebrand in front of the charcoal drawing. The picture was a simple stylized image, but the distinctive pointed nose, pricked ears and brush tail left Todd in no doubt what it was.
A fox
.
He stared at the sketch until the flaming oak leaves dropped from his torch and he tossed the stick in the fire pit. After his shock and feelings of betrayal earlier, he now felt strangely emotionless. What significance did the drawing of his namesake animal have? Was it anything to do with him or simply coincidence?
With a frustrated sigh, he found the path out, his hunter's radar back in action, pointing him in the right direction. Why would the people of Porthallow be interested in him? Even as the question formed in his mind, he already knew the answer.
Because of Dad
. Had Dad worshiped the Green Man with them when he lived here? Todd didn't remember his father ever mentioning religion or God. If Dad had worshiped anything, it was the spirit of nature.
Todd exited the wood into the field and made his way back to the coast path. When he passed the Turpins' cottage, he saw shadows moving behind the curtains. Hopefully Grandpa was still with them. If he arrived home first and found Todd's bed empty, there would be difficult questions to answer. But maybe the time had come to confront Grandpa and get the difficult questions out in the open.
***
Todd dragged himself out of bed halfway through the morning. He stood in the conservatory eating peanut butter on toast, watching sheets of rain sweep in from the sea to batter the windows and roof.
He'd planned to find Marigold to ask her about the previous night, but she'd be at home in this weather. Visiting there meant facing Ruby Turpin. He didn't feel like doing that until he'd persuaded Marigold to tell him what was going on. He also wanted to do some more gardening for Edna, but that was out of the question as well.
Grandpa rushed into the kitchen and put on the kettle. He beckoned Todd. "Just the lad I need. One of my staff has let me down again. Time for you to earn your keep."
After popping the last of his toast in his mouth, he wiped his hands on his jeans. He had nothing better to do, so why not. "Do I get paid?" So far, he hadn't received any money for the few hours he'd worked.
"Cheeky young beggar. Roof over your head and food in your belly not enough?"
Todd gave him a noncommittal look.
"Minimum wage, then. Will that do?"
"Thanks, Grandpa." He wanted everything he could earn to buy tools now that he'd decided to start a gardening business.
He spent the rest of the morning loading boxes from the storeroom into a wire cage on wheels, which he then wheeled into the shop and unpacked. At lunchtime, he got to use the cash register while one of the women took a break. After lunch, he went back to stocking shelves.
Today he didn't mind the task that would normally have bored him silly. It gave him time to think. He decided the garment bag he'd found empty on Grandpa's bed on the night of the storm must have held his robe. This gave Todd the idea of searching Grandpa's room. He might find a clue about what had been going on in the woods last night.
During his lunch break, Todd raced upstairs and crept into the back bedroom. The room held a faint tangy fragrance, possibly a trace of the smoke from last night.