Woodhill Wood (24 page)

Gurde closed his own eyes, turned his head to one side and waited for the cut while his tears redoubled their flow. He felt the tip of the blade enter his flesh just above the middle knuckle. His body tensed and immediately the warm blood began to flow down to drip into the snow.

Gurde tried to cry out but his lips were welded together by the glue of the tape. Only a muffled groan escaped him to drift across the garden. He clenched his teeth and felt the blade push deeper, the tip probing into the joint, scraping the bone. The man stopped his probing. Gurde felt his weight withdraw. He tightened his grip on Gurde's wrist as he placed the blade back into the snow beside his other tools.

He picked up the silver nugget again. “What is this?” he asked. Gurde could not reply. “Why would you be carrying a piece of raw silver like this? It is silver, isn’t it?” He sat back and sniffed.

Gurde sensed that he was distracted and seized the moment to twist his body again. He managed to roll on to his side and snatch his hand from the grasp. The man responded by slamming Gurde's head into the snow with the side of his fist. He snatched at the free arm and pinned it neatly back under his leg, then he rolled Gurde back into position between his thighs and tightened the hold.

The man leaned forward, placed his hairy hands on to the icy ground on either side of Gurde's head, and lowered his face. He brought his nose to within an inch of Gurde's and emptied out his breath. A smile creased the unshaven face, slowly revealing uneven teeth, and through those teeth a glistening tongue appeared. The man shook his head from side to side. "Quiet now, son of Duff," he whispered. "Quiet."

Gurde tried to say please but all he heard was "Mmmmm".

"Shhhh..." the man whispered and put a boney finger up to his lips. “This is the end of it all.” Then he reached beside him again and lifted the long knife with the wooden handle. Gurde's bleeding hand was gripped once more. Gurde turned his head away, unable to watch, and stared at the plum trees along the garden wall as the operation began at last...

But the cut never came. A powerful engine roared along the road and skidded to a halt behind the garden wall. The man sat up and looked over his shoulder towards the sudden activity. Heavy doors clicked open and clunked shut. A flicking harsh blue light lit up the tops of the trees. There was no siren. Gurde stared across at the back drive. Over the wall, two black caps were bobbing their way up towards the house.

The body that pinned Gurde's to the snow lifted slightly and Gurde snatched his hand away, ripped the tape from his lips and screamed...

"Help!"

...and one of the black caps rose and the pale face beneath it peered over the wall into the garden.

"Over here, Brian!" it said.

And the man was on his feet and running across the snow towards the wall at the bottom of the garden with his long coat flailing out behind him.

Gurde watched as he slapped his hands on top of the wall and vaulted over. Gurde knew the fall that awaited him. He howled as he saw the long drop on the far side and Gurde heard the crunch as he hit the icy pavement.

They lay there in the snow, with their broken bones, waiting for the men in grey to come. One of the ambulance men opened the front gate and sprinted across the grass.

"What's happened here, then." he said.

"My Dad's upstairs."

"Never mind that just now. Hurt your hands, eh?"

"My ankles... "

"Right."

The ambulance man had a look at Gurde's feet, carefully lifting and turning each one a little and putting it back on to the snow. "Your Dad's upstairs you say," he said.

"Bedroom at the top of the stairs."

"You be alright for a minute? Geoff'll be here for you in a tick."

Gurde nodded. "Did you catch him?" he asked.

"The one on the road?" the man replied. "He's not going anywhere." The ambulance man brushed the snow from his grey and green sleeve and ran up the lawn towards the house.

Gurde looked straight up into the sky as the snow began to fall again, the huge flakes melting into his eyes. He felt the cold and dug his good hand into his pocket as he waited for the stretcher to arrive. His one thought was that the mother would have to sell the house.

The second ambulance man arrived across the lawn and stood over him. "How's it going?"

"All right."

The man knelt down in the snow. "We had a job finding you. 'Phone got cut off or something. That bloke in the road do this to you?" Gurde nodded. "Better get the police, then. You'll be OK. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

As the second ambulance man left, the first came jogging out of the house. "Right, son. Let's get you to hospital."

"My Dad?"

"Don't you worry about that at the moment."

Gurde held up his good hand. "I... I don't want to go in the same ambulance as..."

"...as that man out front? All right. We'll be needing another wagon anyway. Mean time, let's have a look at you..."