Brightwood by Tania Unsworth

Author:Tania Unsworth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2016-09-07T04:00:00+00:00

DAY FIVE

NINETEEN

Daisy slept badly and awoke shivering in the middle of the night, even though she was under several blankets. She got up and opened a tin of peaches from her store under the bed and ate them staring out at the dark lake. Wind agitated the surface of the water and made the trees around it sway. The sky was no longer clear. She could see the huge shadows of clouds rushing to smother the moon. But there was enough light to glimpse the outline of the boathouse and the rowboat tied up in front of it.

Gritting was there for another night. There must have been plenty of food and other provisions in the bags he had taken from his car. Frank was right—he had come prepared.

When dawn finally arrived, Daisy went downstairs. Tar scurried past her down the corridor that led to the kitchen.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked him.

“Same as I always do,” Tar said. “Hungry.”

“You mustn’t eat so much,” Daisy scolded. “Look what happened to you the other day! You got sick from eating too much, didn’t you?”

Tar was silent.

“Well, didn’t you?”

“Something, something, something,” Tar said.

Daisy was about to insist that he give her a proper answer, when she was interrupted by a sudden shrieking of birds. She went to the window to see what had alarmed them. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The shrieking grew louder: a cacophony of warning cries and whistles, pierced by the harsh screams of peacocks.

Daisy scrambled back down the corridor and raced across the top of the shelving in the Marble Hall. Once upstairs, she went into her grandfather’s old study and crawled through the furniture until she got to the window, where she could see the entire front of the estate.

Gritting was on the lawn. He was a hundred yards away, walking towards the house. Two rabbits dangled limply from his belt.

Daisy cried out and covered her mouth with her hand.

Her rabbits!

They were surely dead. Their heads bounced against Gritting’s leg as he walked, and even from this distance, Daisy could see they were covered in blood. He must have set traps in the long grass near their warren.

Maybe they were the very same rabbits she had fed by hand. She had made them trusting, easy to catch. Gritting may have set the traps, but it was still her fault.

Daisy turned and crawled frantically back the way she had come. She was almost at the door to her grandfather’s study when she saw Frank’s muddy boots planted firmly among the forest of chair legs. Daisy looked up.

“Where are you going?” Frank asked.

“He’s killing the animals!” Daisy cried. “I have to stop him!”

“How do you think you’re going to do that?”

Daisy scrambled to her feet. She expected Frank to be right there in front of her. But the girl had vanished. Daisy whirled around. Frank was now standing on top of her grandfather’s desk with one foot on the monkey vase as if it were a football that she was about to send hurtling into the air.

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