Prologue: The Easement of Mr. Finch
“Leave me alone!”
The shout echoed from the trees and the mist-shrouded hills.
The figure paused, looking frantically from right to left. Then a quick dash across the road and hiding against the hedge, looking back at the Holy Trinity churchyard gate. No sign of anything there, but the sense of threat still prevailed.
Quickly, the figure climbed the steps and over the stile. The path ahead stretched uphill with a fence to the right. There were the outlines of a few buildings. But it was more open to the left and that is where he focused his gaze. The mist meant that his view was limited. Would they be there?
Again a frantic look behind and he began to run up the slope. His breathing became more rapid and his pace slowed. He could see the path disappearing into the shelter of the trees. But the shelter may be an illusion, for the mist prevented him from seeing more than a few yards to either side. And so he knew it was not safe yet. He had to go forward.
He reached a gate. The finger post read “Public Footpath” and negotiating the gateway cost him more time. He looked around—were there figures on the path or just swirling shapes in the mist made real by his sense of danger?
He had no choice. He carried on along the path which steadily rose through the trees. In places the path became muddy and slippery, and he saw to his dread that the ground to his left fell away steeply between the shrouded trees. He wanted to slow down. But could he? Had he lost them?
He could not be sure, so he slipped and crashed his way forward.
Then a noise. A rumble. He froze, looking frantically to his left. It was coming from below him in the gloom. He crouched down as the sound resounded through the mist and branches below him. Then lights broke through the stillness. On the road below, a car changed gear as it climbed the valley road.
He almost smiled. But then he knew he had to go forward. The path began to descend in front of him. Another scramble through another gate—intended for more relaxed times, he cursed as it hindered his progress.
A steep slope with a muddy track worn by countless past feet, and then he emerged onto a tarmac road. It descended to his left but rose up steeply to his right. A combination of mist, banks, and bends in the road meant that he could not see more than thirty yards in either direction.
Which way? Which way?
Up or Down? People on the run in films always went up, only to be caught and tumble to their doom. He had to push the thought of King Kong surrounded by aircraft out of his mind.
On the other hand, if he went down, he realised that he would come to the road and they might be waiting for him. Up the road looked quieter, and in that moment he made his decision. Now running again, he started up the road.
Watching from the trees, she smiled to herself. It was always so predictable. This one would be easy.