Mouse Heart by Fleur Hitchcock

Author:Fleur Hitchcock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nosy Crow
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

The moment we’ve finished, I run up to take another look at the blanket. It’s got no moth holes, which means it’s not been in the building long, because the moths attack all the wool in this place.

And the patch of blood is thick – not like our fake blood. Although perhaps Walter got the blood on it when he hid? But the blanket wasn’t there when he hid. I saw the bottom of the hamper.

It really wasn’t.

Which means someone put it there afterwards. I’ve a horrible feeling I know who.

I’ll pick up today’s posters from the printer’s, and I’ll go and see Mr Dale again, show it to him.

I run straight to Mr Dale’s workshop but the shop’s all shut up, no sign even of the boy from this morning. Standing on a box I peer through a murky pane of glass into the unlit interior. It’s all dark and there’s definitely no one in there. The windows are shut upstairs.

I walk to the end of the row and turn left as if I was going to the printing shop. I swing around the corner and I notice a gated snicket running along the back of the buildings, linking all their yards. I look around to see if anyone would notice if I took a look, but they’re all too busy getting drunk and into fights. I open the gate, stepping smartly into the first yard; it’s mostly heaped with rubbish. The next has vegetables growing and is neater so I run on through in case I’m spotted. “Six, seven, eight.” I stop. This must be the one. There are six tall barrels lined up behind, and the yard gives on to the brewery at the back.

Shuffling a fruit box closer to a small window, I step on it and try to see through the glass. It’s too high so I grab the nearest barrel and use the top of it to haul myself higher, so that I have one foot on the side of the barrel and one on the wall.

There’s a weird smell. Not only beer. Sweeter.

Pressing my nose to the glass I peer through, but the window’s filthy. I try wiping it with my cuff but I still can’t see a thing. Above me the glass looks cleaner; perhaps I could get up there.

Gripping the top of the barrel with both hands, I hoist myself higher and get a better look into the workshop, but really there’s nothing to see that I haven’t already seen.

Off to my left someone gets going with a saw and a babble of voices rise from children on the other side of the wall. I should get down.

I glance down to make sure that my feet land in the right place and catch a glimpse of something in the barrel. I have to stare at it for a full minute before I realise that I’m looking at Mr Dale.

And he’s definitely dead.

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