The House of Birds and Butterflies. Cressida McLaughlin
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two, stop it, now. We don’t stand for drowning each other at this nature reserve, whatever you might have heard.’
When Abby made it back inside, Rosa was showing Jonny a pair of high-end binoculars. They had a 20 per cent sale on all their birdwatching equipment, and this was the closest she’d seen Jonny come to actually buying something. Everything was going to plan; she just had the night walk to contend with.
When a packet of felt tips was discovered to be dud, and Abby realized they weren’t going to make it through the afternoon with only two orange pens, she took the opportunity to escape the madness and walk to the village shop to pick up some more. She resisted the urge to take the longer route past Swallowtail House. It looked simultaneously regal and slightly spooky at the best of times, but would it seem particularly sinister today? A large, abandoned house was the perfect location for a Halloween investigation, but the padlocks and thick chains would put paid to that, even if there had been anyone brave enough.
Peacock Cottage was quiet as she passed, none of the windows showing signs of life, and she hurried on. On Meadowgreen’s main road, she headed towards the shop, the wind whipping her hair against her face. Her pace slowed as she noticed two people standing next to the postbox, chatting.
Abby felt the familiar yet unwanted flicker of emotion as she saw Jack, his hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive jacket. And then she focused on the person he was with, the long blonde hair falling over the shoulders of a smart black coat, and knee-high, tan leather boots over skinny jeans. It took Abby a moment to place her, to realize she had seen her on the television but not in real life.
Flick Hunter was in Meadowgreen. She was even more beautiful in the flesh, the comfortable intimacy between her and Jack clear even from a distance.
Abby hesitated, wondering whether to keep going or turn quickly around. She didn’t know why she felt so strange seeing them together, or so reluctant to simply walk past them. Jack leaned closer to Flick, his lips twitching into a smile. Abby scrunched her fingers into fists, hovering uselessly on the side of the road, but then Flick put her hand on Jack’s shoulder and steered him to a black Land Rover parked close by.
Abby breathed a sigh of relief, waiting until they were next to the car before she crossed over. But as she reached the shop she noticed a glimmer of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned instinctively towards it. Jack was looking at her, his hand raised in recognition. Her stomach fizzed and she gave him a quick, nervous wave, their eyes meeting briefly, then he climbed in alongside Flick Hunter, the sound of the door closing a heavy clunk that reached her despite the wind.
She decided that she wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. She didn’t want to fuel a fresh wave of gossip about Flick Hunter and Jack Westcoat, and acknowledging that she had spotted them together made her uneasy, as if she was about to come down with an unpleasant bug. There was no reason for her to feel like that. She hadn’t exactly hit it off with Jack, and what business was it of hers if they were good friends or, perhaps, even more than that? Returning to Meadowsweet with felt pens aplenty, Abby went back to the drawing competition. Once it was over, she would have a couple of hours to tidy up the visitor centre before the night walk began.
They set off as dusk was falling, and Abby could hear the usual excited whispers behind her as they made their way along the meadow trail. She stopped everyone at the end of the path, where a fence looked out across a field. It was part of Penelope’s estate, and until a few months ago had been let out to a local farmer for cattle grazing. Abby wasn’t sure what had happened to the cows, but now it was empty and, at this time of day when it was in different degrees of shadow, a good spotting place for one of their best nocturnal creatures.
‘Now,’ she said quietly, ‘if we’re very lucky, we might just see—’
‘There!’ someone whispered loudly. ‘Oh my God!’
As if on cue, a large, pale bird swooped gracefully over the field, its heart-shaped face clearly visible in the gloom. It was mesmerizing, and almost luminous against the twilight backdrop.
‘A barn owl,’ Abby said. ‘There she is. She roosts over in those trees and is seen frequently by visitors and our reserve wardens. She hunts mainly at dawn and dusk, but she’s sometimes out mid-afternoon. The weather can set their hunting patterns off – her feathers aren’t very water resistant, so if it’s raining she avoids flying.’
‘She’s magnificent.’
‘Stunning.’
‘She’s like a phantom,’ said one, younger-sounding visitor. Abby couldn’t disagree.
She immersed herself in the wildlife and her guests’ interest in it. This was where she was happiest, and a night walk on a cold October evening was somehow easier than one on a summer’s afternoon, because she knew the people who had booked onto it would be a more hardcore breed of nature lover. She wanted to inspire more people, of course, but sometimes it was nice to know that she wouldn’t have to work hard at their enthusiasm, that it was already ingrained. The woodland yielded bats, visible coming out of their bat boxes, flying round in wide circles. Abby had brought her monitor, so she could make their weirdly regular clicks audible, and explain how they used echolocation to navigate and find food in the dark.
Everyone was fascinated, the questions kept coming and, as they turned back towards the visitor centre, the darkness almost complete, a Chinese water deer bounded across their path, its large ears and white-rimmed nose so distinctive.
‘Thank you, wildlife,’ Abby whispered under her breath, as there were low murmurings of delight from those around her.
In the café, Stephan had produced a batch of zombie brownies, with white and pink marshmallow pieces that looked like flesh oozing through the chocolate. He was poised to make hot drinks, and Abby hovered while everyone tucked in, on hand to answer any more queries.
One of the youngest visitors on the walk, a girl of about twelve, came up to her.
‘All those things tonight, the owl and the bats and the deer, they’re a bit creepy in the dark, aren’t they? You can see why people believe in ghosts. If you didn’t know what a barn owl was, you might think it was something scarier.’
‘That’s a very good point,’ Abby said. ‘I bet our native wildlife could explain away lots of spooky sightings.’
‘Is there anything else you see that we missed out on?’
‘Not really. We were particularly lucky tonight, though we do occasionally see badgers. It’s not that they aren’t there, but they’re so elusive it’s much harder to spot them. I’ve only seen one once, and I’ve been here nearly two years.’ The girl stared at her, her eyes wide with interest, and so she kept going. ‘I was on my way home, and it really made me jump. This huge thing was lumbering through the trees towards me, and suddenly there was this white, striped nose, which was a bit ghostly. We looked at each other for a second, then it changed course, going back into the woods. But I can’t remember the last time any guests or other staff reported seeing one – we’re not usually around in the dead of night.’
‘It’s been a brilliant walk, though. Thank you!’ The girl held out her hand and, surprised and touched, Abby shook it.
‘Thanks for staying with me,’ Abby said to Stephan as they pulled on their coats. ‘Are you cycling home?’
Stephan nodded. ‘I’d offer you a lift, except space is quite limited on the saddle.’
Abby laughed. ‘I’ll be fine. I know the route like the back of my hand, and I’ve got my torch.’
‘Still a bit late for you to be heading home alone. I could walk you back, get on my bike from there?’
‘Honestly, Stephan, I’m fine.’ She patted his shoulder. ‘It’ll take more than a few ghoulish masks to scare me.’
They switched off the lights and locked the doors, then wished each other goodnight. Abby listened to the sound of Stephan’s bike wheels whirring down the car park, his headlight bright