COOMBE'S WOOD by Lisa C Hinsley

A couple of things...

2010-05-19T09:18:00.000-07:00

First, Kipp Poe Speicher invited me to answer some authorly questions for his new blog, check out the result:

http://kippoe.blogspot.com/2010/05/lisa-hinsley-interview.html?spref=tw

Thank you Kipp for the opportunity, and best of luck with your blog!

I'm also working on finishing another book called Elective Suicide. Here's a link if you want to read a bit. http://www.authonomy.com/ReadBook.aspx?bookid=15898#chapter

Here's the blurb: Worldwide overpopulation. Legal suicide. A government dedicated to reducing citizen numbers. And a woman who is sentenced to death, but refuses to be culled.

Inknbeans interview!

2010-05-13T11:52:00.000-07:00

Inknbeans asked me to do an interview about how I write, how I juggle family and my career as a writer. This is what they wrote:

Welcome. Those of you who recognize the name Lisa Hinsley know her as a gifted writer of downright spooky stories. These aren't your run of the mill vampyres and haunted castle stories; these are every day people in situations that run the gamut from good to bad and back again, touched by something...well...evil. Lisa does a good job of making you flinch. Here's how she gets to that dark place that makes the rest of shudder. You'll be surprised to know it's located in a surprisingly sunny place. Lisa...

Click on the link to read what I said.

http://inknbeans.weebly.com/new-inknpage---what-writers-write.html

Number 13 on an Indie book list!

2010-05-09T14:51:00.000-07:00

My friend Kipp Poe Speicher (check out his vids on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/user/kippoe they are a must see) just found my novel on a list of the 50 best rated indie authors in the Kindle store. Here's the link:

http://ireaderreview.com/2010/05/08/50-best-rated-indie-authors-in-the-kindle-store/

And here's a little of what they say:

This post covers some of the best rated indie authors in the Kindle Store. There might be some overlap with the Top 100 Independent Authors list – However, the aim is to feature authors not on that list (do check it out as there are lots of great books at $1 or less).
This is a rough list and it includes a few books from published authors. Only books with very good reviews and prices close to $1 are included.

Woohoo! I'm a bit superstitious, but I guess someone had to be thirteen! Just pleased to be featured. :)

Books on the Knob

2010-05-02T13:21:00.000-07:00

Guess what, my friend Donna emailed me to say she spotted Coombe's Wood in the Books on the Knob blog. I didn't even know, but I am very pleased to say the least. I suspect they are the reason I sold 50+ copies of my book yesterday. I was floored/flabbergasted/amazed...etc to watch my numbers ticking up. It's a very slow sales day today, but I've almost made half my mythical 'hoped for' number for the month in one day. Can't complain too much!

http://booksontheknob.blogspot.com/2010/04/bargain-book-roundup-part-ii.html

And as an aside, I raised my price to $2.99 in preparation for the policy change on Amazon, and they've very kindly given the readers a discount to $1.99. I have no idea how long this will last, so if you still haven't a copy of Coombe's Wood, now might be the time.

Donna is the author of The Merry-Go-Round find it on Amazon here:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Merry-Go-Round-ebook/dp/B002ZNJL78/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=A7B2F8DUJ88VZ&s=digital-text&qid=1272832127&sr=1-1)

April sales...

2010-05-01T03:51:00.000-07:00

A little news:

I've sold over 500 books now. Sales figures for the month of April will be out in a few days, but sales went nuts during the night. I got to a rank of 386 (that's out of half a million books on Kindle) and can't wait to see the final figure.

I've raised the price from $0.99 to $2.99 which will take a couple of days to come into effect. I expect sales to slow, but who knows. In the meantime, I really need to concentrate on editing the next book!

Might post an excerpt up later. The new book is a novella called Sulham Close. It's full on horror, so not for the faint of heart.

Lisa had an interview!

2010-04-24T01:19:00.000-07:00

I had an interview! True, it was with a friend, but she's very professional, and I think soon to join up as a Kindle/Indie author. Gemi writes fantastic historical novels - and I generally dislike the historical genre. She's definitely an author to watch for. Anyway, my interview is up on her blog if you want to have a look. :)

http://ngeminisasson.blogspot.com/2010/04/are-e-books-future-of-publishing.html

A Peculiar Collection

2010-04-23T10:10:00.000-07:00

You can get a free collection of my short stories from Smashwords here:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/13363

You will find ten stories with dark themes, their origins, and a two chapter preview of my next book.

Being John: A family deals with the shock of cancer.
Wanted, Companion: Homeless and jobless, Joel answers an ad in the local newspaper and agrees to far more than he realises.
Transformations: Family pets transform – a bit silly at first until they show their true nature.
Where Angels Sing: Be careful what you wish for.
In the Closet: Kenny is trapped in there, and he just won’t shut up.
Mary Beth and Joe: Revenge from beyond the grave.
Naïve, Once Seventeen: A lifetime of grief sends one woman over the edge.
The Girl That Could Fly: A story in reverse, a girl changes into something very new.
Camilla: Sometimes change is good, but it’s always very hard.
Motherly Love: A mother’s love for her child supersedes all.
Origins: A little bit about each story, the influences and inspiration.
Coming soon, Sulham Close: A preview of my new book.

Enjoy!

Coombe's Wood has a new cover!

2010-04-13T09:54:00.001-07:00

Bradley Wind has done some fabulous book covers, so I specifically asked him to create a cover for Coombe's Wood, knowing whatever he did it would be good. This was the result.

2010-04-07T00:39:00.001-07:00

Coombe's Wood is now available on Amazon Kindle for only $0.99. You can find it here:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002TSAORU/ref=tag_nof_ap_edpp

I also have an Amazon Author page. And you can find that here:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003E2VRCG

This is what it's all about...

When Izzy Santana and her 13-year-old son Connor move into a flat in the sleepy village of Cedham, they think the terrors of their abused past are behind them. Locals darkly warn her to stay away from nearby Coombe's Wood, hinting at ludicrous superstitions. But Izzy is so delighted to have found a haven for her son that she takes little notice. Then a disembowelled rabbit turns up on her doorstep, along with a distinctive cigarette butt, and she knows ex-partner George has found her. What Izzy needs to do is protect Connor. She has already started to uncover the ancient secrets of the village, and now she works out the perfect way to get rid of George... for good.

Coombe's Wood got into the ABNA 2009 semi finals (you can read the Publishers Weekly review on the book page) and was runner up in the YouWriteOn book of the year contest. Plus I've had several fabulous reviews recently, please check them out.

Chapter 4

2009-02-10T03:47:00.001-08:00

Later that evening, Izzy stood by Connor’s bedroom door, watching as he rolled over under his duvet, clutching his teddy bear. Nearly thirteen years ago, his father had come home with it, and Connor had loved it ever since. It was missing an eye, and a small cloud of stuffing was escaping from a hole under one of the arms, but even at his age, he wouldn’t sleep without the bear. Maybe it was the smell.

Izzy closed the door with a soft click, and went to her room. She piled the clothes from her suitcase on the floor, and uncovered a bottle of cheap wine. She twisted the top off and went to stand on the small balcony, taking sips from the bottle. After testing the strength of the railings, she leaned against them, marvelling at her long and arduous journey to get to Cedham. This was her flat, perched on the edge of a beautiful village.

A bat the size of a finch swooped by, inches in front of her face, and ducked into the woods. Another darted out from the fields, snatching moths from the air. As the bat flew away, Izzy noticed the stars. They glittered like fairy lights and seemed to whisper, “Look at me.” Izzy gazed upwards, swigging wine. With a large sigh, she began to relax.

“Hello, you just moved in?”

“Meu deus…sorry…” The bottle almost fell from her hands. She clutched the neck with white knuckles. A man with a bushy blond beard peered around the wall separating her balcony from the next. Izzy put a hand to her chest where her heart pounded in audible thuds, and stepped away. She blurted, “God, you got my heart going!” and took another step back. He stretched further around.

“I try my best,” he said with a grin. “I’m Feathers, nice to meet you. And you are…?” He stuck an arm around the wall. She took a tentative step back in his direction, and grasped his hand. They shook, arms suspended above Mr Brown’s patio.

“Feathers?”

“You too, what a coincidence!” His blue eyes sparkled in the light from her balcony.

“No, I’m Izzy… but it’s not a normal name.”

“No… I’ve heard the name Izzy before. I think.”

“Not mine, yours!”

“You’re saying my name is strange?” He leaned further out – so far he should be falling. “What did you say when I first looked around?”

“What?” She took a step back.

“Those words, they were foreign, I’m sure.”

“Oh…I spoke Portuguese. Meu deus. Means: Oh my God.”

“You lived there?”

“No. My Dad’s Portuguese. He made me speak the language as I grew up.”

His eyes bored inquisitively into her.

Izzy shrugged and forced a smile, and found she couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Nice to meet you, Feathers.” She backed away, wine bottle clutched between both hands. She could use it on him, if need be.

“You should come over for a drink one night. When you’re ready.” His expression changed from curiosity to smiles as she bumped against the door.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want that. I have a son,” she said.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. Izzy released one hand from her wine bottle and felt for the handle. “Bring him along. How old is he?”

“Thirteen and a major trouble. You wouldn’t want him in your flat.” She found the handle and began to pull the lever down.

“Thirteen…” he said, looking out towards the woods. “Has he started dating?”

Izzy blushed. “Not so far as I know…Feathers, I’ve got to go. I’ve got lots to do before I can go to bed.”

“Oh, sure…” He put a hand up. “If you require any assistance, feel free to knock.”

“Thanks.” The door finally swung open behind her.

Izzy ran to her bedroom, collapsed on the duvet, and took a swig of the wine. Another gulp followed rapidly. She drained the bottle, and buried her face in a pillow.

Chapter 3

2009-02-04T03:36:00.000-08:00

Izzy and Connor drove back to the east side of Reading without speaking, pulling in outside the shabby Victorian mansion that housed the shelter almost an hour later. Two suitcases waited by the door inside their room, along with a battered cardboard box and a roll of black plastic bags ready to be filled. Izzy managed to send Connor off to the common room to watch television before her tears began to fall. She emptied drawers and cupboards and cleaned the room, dabbing at her eyes every few minutes. Everything was going to be okay… and certainly, peculiar words scribbled years before and hidden under wallpaper were no threat. She smiled, despite her inability to stop crying.

Izzy finished her search of the room, took one last look at the wild garden below, her tears drying as she stood by the window, fingers splayed on the glass for a few seconds. She pulled the curtains and placed the screen carefully between the beds and backed out of the room slowly, amazed they had managed to live in such a small space for five long months. She locked up and went downstairs to join Connor in the day room.

“Time to go, love. Ready to have a bedroom of your own?”

“God, yes.” Connor flicked the telly off, and followed his mother down the hall. “Remember to stop for paint.”

Izzy brushed the side of his cheek gathered the black bag into her arms, and headed down the hall.

They left through the kitchen, with its gleaming stainless steel. A sign hung from one of the walls – A place for everything, and everything in its place. How many times had Sheila, the head carer at the shelter, sneaked up behind her or one of the other residents, and bellowed those words?

Izzy ran her fingers over one of the two huge larder fridges. She opened the door of one and peered inside at her empty shelves, and slid her nametags from the holders. Jessica had almost thumped her, right here, with the door open, and the cold air leaking over her feet. There were so many arguments over food. Someone was always stealing – the staff called it borrowing. But there was a certain finality to foodstuffs disappearing, and with tight finances and stressed women, violence always seemed close by.

Sheila, all short red hair and bird-like physique, stood waiting by the door to the kitchen. “Is it a nice flat?” She took the last black bag from Izzy and walked with her to the car.

“It’ll do…” Izzy glanced at Connor and said, “It’s on a road called Briar Lane, in Cedham. Do you know the village?”

Sheila shook her head. “I’ve heard the name, that’s all. Rural?”

“Yeah, half the place is woods,” Izzy said, as she carried the last bag to the car. “The other half seems to be fields.”

“Be careful, all right?” Sheila opened the door for Izzy. “And you – keep being good for your Mum.”

Connor grinned. “As always.”

Izzy thought again about the cane on the drive back to Cedham. Mrs Roberts, the housing officer, had used an odd walking stick. The image had stuck in her mind. The curve of the wood, the design of the handle – it was familiar.

Izzy’s foot relaxed on the accelerator. “Ai, meu deus, that’s been driving me crazy – I’ve been trying to remember where I’d seen a strange cane before.” She sped back up. “Your dad had one. Maybe they bought them from the same shop.” There was silence for a few seconds. “You know, he was originally from around here.”

They pulled into the end of Briar Lane, both silent.

“Cedham?” Connor said abruptly.

“What?”

“He lived in Cedham?”

“I don’t know. Funny if we got housed in the same village.”

The bitter cold of the afternoon didn’t stop three teenagers from standing across the way. They watched as Izzy and Connor emptied the car.

“Is that all you own?” A girl with long dark hair walked over. She stood near Connor, her mouth slightly open. White gum flashed in and out of view as she chewed.

Connor spoke first, “The rest is coming in a van.” He shot his mother a look. Izzy pulled out a bag, held it in her arms and checked on the other two teens. They leaned against a fence, laughing and jeering.

“Yeah right,” one of the boys called, and threw a handful of rotten leaves. Wet from the melting frost, they landed with a soft splat near the car. The two boys ran off, hooting and shouting.

“See you around.” The girl gave Connor a thorough visual inspection, then walked off after the others.

“Well, at least the neighbours are pleasant.” Izzy watched them go, her expression solemn, before hauling another bag from the car.

“Bloody idiots.”

“Take this bag up. I’ll follow in a second.” Izzy pulled out the suitcases and locked the car. She scanned the area, and seeing no one, picked up her things and went inside. They dumped the suitcases and black bags in the living room and went to Connor’s bedroom.

They’d stopped at a hardware shop in Pangbourne, and she thought they had everything they needed.

“Shall we?” Izzy put the supplies down, reached up and grabbed the curled corner of the next sheet.

Connor went to the other side of the room. “Shall we see who can get more off?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling, and pulled.

The glue behind the wallpaper was old, brittle, and the paper fell away with little effort. Their initial playfulness evaporated, as they found more scribbled pictures, of animals, humans and violent deaths, like modern cave drawings. Eyes were a theme; they were everywhere, sometimes as a frame to other sketches. Under the last strip, they found a tally that counted to nineteen.

“Can I do it?” Connor asked, after they had sanded the walls, and wiped them down. He held a roller in one hand, turquoise paint dripping into the tray.

Izzy nodded, and he ran the paint over the words first, rolling back and forth at a furious pace, until the faint black writing was gone.

Don’t go in the woods
Where eyes hide between
And behind the trees
Waiting for me
Following
The words echoed in her head. “Call me if you need any help,” she said, and left the room.

An hour later, he’d transformed the room. Izzy looked around, pleased. Connor had caught the skirting a couple of times and there were a few streaks at the edges of the ceiling, but otherwise, the colour was solid, darkening to a greeny-blue shade, like postcards she’d seen of the Mediterranean Sea.

“Scoop up that pile of paper, would you, love?” She pulled a black bag from her back pocket, left over from moving.

They stuffed the paper in, scouring the floor on their hands and knees. When she bought a hoover, she’d vacuum properly. She put the rubbish in the hall, and came back with a different bag.

“You want to sleep in the living room, until the stink’s gone?”

“Nope, this is my room.” Connor opened the window, a cool breeze pushing back his hair. He took his glasses off and picked at a couple of spots of paint. “I’ll be fine. It’s healthy to sleep in a cold room. Didn’t the Victorians do that all the time, out on their verandas?”

“They also rarely washed, and wore clothing they were stitched into.” Izzy laughed, and emptied the bag of bedding in the middle of the room. “Have it your way, just don’t blame me if you wake up with the sniffles.”

Izzy layered half of the blankets into a makeshift mattress, put his duvet and pillows on top, and placed his beanie toys around the ‘bed.’

“There. You should be comfortable for a few days.” She stood back, and surveyed her work. “You know, until we can find a couple of cheap beds. Okay, love?”

“Sure, Mum.” Connor knelt down, and started rearranging the beanies.

Izzy was finishing her own bed when a knock sounded on the front door.

She froze for a couple of seconds, a funny tingling in her limbs, her heart bashing against the inside of her ribcage.

“It’s just someone at the door,” she said to herself.

She stepped back, away from the door, and then forced herself across the floorboards, to the entrance of the flat. Izzy shook her head, and put her eye to the peephole. A tall man stood on the landing. The rounded glass distorted his face, like she was peering through a fish eye lens. He wore a tweed overcoat and a hat straight from the 1950’s, the rim almost hiding his blue-grey hair. Tufts curled out. Escaping, she thought with a smile, and her heart steadied to a less frantic pace. The old man leaned forward to rap again, his head swelling to bulbous proportions as he moved closer.

“Hello?” Izzy asked, opening the door, the man’s hand poised in the air. “Can I help you?”

He withdrew his arm, and bowed a little.

“I’m Charles Brown,” he shouted. “I live downstairs.” He pointed down. “Right below you,” he bellowed.

“Hi. I’m Izzy. Nice to meet you.” She put out her hand; he crushed it in his own.

He put a hand to his ear and asked, “Sorry, young lady, I didn’t catch your name.”

She grinned. “Izzy,” she said louder. He frowned. “My name is Izzy,” she shouted.

“Ahh. Izzy. Short for Isabel?” He caught her nod. “That’s a pretty name. Old-fashioned.” He smiled and then said in the tone of something preciously confidential being imparted, “My grandmother was called Isabel.”

“It’s a good name. Mr Brown, I’d like to invite you in, but my furniture hasn’t arrived yet.” She enunciated her words carefully. Then her shoulders sagged. The furniture hadn’t even been purchased yet.

“Oh, no, Isabel. I don’t want to come in. I wanted to tell you something.” He paused. She tried to think of what she was expected to say. But he began again, “I have tinnitus.”

It was her turn to frown.

“I hear ringing in my ears. Sometimes, I think someone else is making the noise.”

“Oh.”

“So if I bang on the ceiling, and you’re not making any noise, it’s only my ears playing up.” He smiled at her and stuck his hand out again.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Izzy allowed the old man the privilege of crushing her fingers once more, and watched him shuffle down the stairs. She waited on the landing, a little befuddled, until she heard the door to his flat click closed, then shut her own. Almost immediately, faint sounds of music filtered through the floorboards. Did that mean she could beat on the floor to make him stop? She walked with a sway, in time to the waltz below, into the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves, and put a sponge under the tap.

Chapter 2

2009-01-30T05:32:00.000-08:00

March in this area could be unpredictable, Izzy thought, noting that the temperature had plummeted. Silvery patches clung to the ground where northerly shadows cloaked the land. She drove slowly, studying the numbers on the houses. Two children emerged from a hidden space behind a large evergreen shrub, wandered into the street, crossed in front of the car, and disappeared down the side passage of one of the houses.

“That old lady was strange,” Connor said.

Izzy nodded.

“Why was she staring like that?” he asked, and shivered.

Izzy leaned over and turned the heat up. “Dunno,” she said after a pause.

The car wound past clusters of identical houses in various stages of disrepair. A gnome sat near the gate of one garden, fishing pole in hand, a red Santa Claus hat on his head. A crack ran down the middle of his face.

“Did you notice her wonderful old cane?” Izzy suddenly said.

Three more kids stopped to stare at the unfamiliar car. She swerved past them, avoiding a football and a long line of miniature red cones.

“What cane?”

“The one behind the desk. She took it out after you two did your ‘Who blinks first’ competition. What was that about, anyway?”

Connor ignored the question, saying instead, “Her eyes were all slanty. Reminded me of a cat. And I didn’t like the way she stared at me. Made me feel all weird. Spacey.” He circled a finger next to his head. “How old was she, anyway? Maybe she’s like this guy I read about on the web, he’s turned a hundred, and still working. Washes cars, or something.”

“She wasn’t that old. Anyway, you shouldn’t judge people by their appearances.” Izzy squinted at a small copse of trees between some of the houses. “And did you see how she had to force herself out of her chair? I bet she’s ill with arthritis or osteoporosis or something. Those types of diseases are painful most of the time – “

“Mum, we’re here,” Connor interrupted.

“Huh…That’s a block of flats?”

They drove towards what first appeared to be a large house, three stories high, with dormer windows to light up the attic rooms. Izzy examined the building as they pulled closer. Whoever designed the flats had done a good job of disguising them. To complete the illusion of a grand house, four mature oaks shadowed the building in a dappled winter shade. The trees were huddled together, as if trying to keep warm. Moss grew in the half-light under their branches. To the front of the building, there was a length of worn tarmac. Izzy pulled in, brakes squealing, piercing the winter air as she stopped between a rusting black Escort and a newish bright red Ka.

They had arrived.

Connor jumped out and stood back to get a good look at the building. Izzy leaned across and locked his door, staring up at the flats. This was an important moment to remember – a new beginning and a new place, and all hers.

“Shall we?” She slammed the door.

“You tell me off for doing that.”

“Sorry.” She shrugged. “We’ve got a home, Connor, just for you and me.”

Izzy switched key rings, and used the bunch with her old house key to lock the car. She switched again – now holding the new set in pole position – and strode up to the building.

“Ready, love?”

The lock was unwieldy, but she jiggled the key inside the mechanism and it finally released with a soft click. She put her shoulder against the door and slipped inside the lobby before the self-closer activated. She opened the door a second time to allow Connor through, taking a moment to glance back and scan the street both ways.

They climbed dirty concrete stairs to the first floor. On the landing were three solid, painted, council issue front doors, two on one side, a third on the opposite wall, dingy brass numbers screwed on the walls alongside. The card tag attached to the new keys read, “Number six”. Connor stepped up and rang the doorbell. A high-pitched buzz echoed inside the flat.

“No one home. We’d better go.” He laughed.

Izzy smiled and slipped the key into the lock. She opened the door, and Connor took a step inside. Izzy followed into a short hall with five doors leading to the rooms. All stood ajar, beckoning. Connor dashed past her and off down the hallway.

While he raced about, Izzy entered the living room and took a deep breath. The gaudy red and blue flower print on the peeling wallpaper was marvellous. The false chandelier with grubby crystals hung low enough to bump into, and would be easy to clean. Dirt-stained floorboards underfoot, she counted five long strides along the length, and four to the width – much larger than the reception room in her old house.

She spun in the middle of the room, breathing in the atmosphere. Nicotine stained the ceiling. The embossed flowers on the walls looked ready to fall off. The glass was sticky with mustard coloured film. She smudged it with her fingers, pushed a door open, and walked out onto the balcony.

The fields and woods swirled together with a nauseating effect. Izzy clamped her fingers down on the railing, and waited for the dizziness to pass.

“Come and look!” Connor yelled as he charged into the living room. He crashed into Izzy and grabbed her shirt, pulling her back through the flat. “This room’s mine.”

Connor had picked the smaller bedroom. Stripy wallpaper peeled away from the walls and framed a wide window, which overlooked a balding patch of grass and the small car park. The Ka was gone, replaced by a blue pickup truck. Briar Lane wound back to the main road, trees lining the sides of the footpaths. Long front gardens, full of shrubs, led back to the houses, with sturdy council fences separating each property. To the left, dark woods covered the hill. Izzy could just make out where a lane emerged from the woods and transformed into a road as it passed out of the shadows. Then the side of the building cut off her view. So many places to hide, she forced herself away from the window.

“I figured you’d want the larger bedroom.”

“Thanks,” Izzy said, her eyes still fixed on the scene beyond the glass.

Connor reached up and pinched a corner of wallpaper between his thumb and forefinger. The paper fell away from the wall, and he let go, glancing at his Mum. “I thought the old lady said they redecorated?”

“Shall we see what the kitchen’s like?” Izzy backed into the hall.

“Don’t you want to see your bedroom?” Connor disappeared through another door. Izzy followed, entering a room nearly as big as the living room. Another large window looked out on the rear of the building. The lane widened and ran past emerging crops, towards the hill that led down to Pangbourne. Hedgerows and trees encroached on the tarmac for as far as she could see. And the woods, leaned over the lane and fields.

“This is a good room. Imagine what furniture I might have in here, one day…”

Connor laughed, and ran off to the kitchen.

Take care in the woods. That’s what that odd woman had said. The trees swayed in the wind, almost rhythmically. She turned away from the window, and followed Connor into the kitchen.

“Everything’s coated in grime.” Connor wiped a finger across the counter and held it up to Izzy. “Yuck,” he said, and rinsed it under the tap. “I’m going back to my room.”

Izzy forced herself away from the window, and started her own search of the kitchen cabinets. They weren’t as bad as Connor made out. The counters were dusty, but that’s what happened in empty places. She looked at the finger trail he’d made. At first she thought the countertop was grey, but it was pale silver, with copper and black flecks. Pretty, at second glance. She drew her hand across the surface, amazed at the depth of the dust. The flat must have been empty for a long time.

“Hey, Mum,” Connor called. There was a sound of ripping. “Come here.”

Izzy straightened up and clapped the dust off her hands. “Where are you, love?”

“In my room. You should see this.”

Izzy wiped her palms on her jeans and hurried down the hall.

Connor stood by the wall opposite the window, a sheet of wallpaper between his hands. Two lengths had been pulled off entirely. A third was still half-attached, and underneath, Izzy could see bits of scribbles, childish drawings of trees and what seemed to be a strange sun drawn in thick black marker.

“What on earth?” She walked up and tugged on the paper. It came away easily, and underneath, the sketches gave way to faint writing. Glue, and the last remnants of the wallpaper, partly obscured the words, but not completely.

“Mum, this is creepy…” Connor took a step back from the wall. “It’s like an evil omen or something.”

Don’t go in the woods
Where eyes hide between
And behind the trees
Waiting for you
Following

“What the hell is this?” Izzy tore off the sheet and crumpled it into a ball. “We’ll buy some paint tomorrow,” she said, and turned away.

“But Mum!”

“It’s just some creepy words, and I’m not going to let them scare me. Are you?” She put her hands on her hips. “Come on, love,” she said, taking her keys out of her pocket. “Let’s go and get our things from the shelter.”

“What about the woods?” Connor grabbed her sleeve.

“What about them?” She wrenched away from his grasp, refusing to go near the window. Izzy jogged from the room, and down the hall.

Connor caught up to her and stood against the door. “Mum!” He put a hand out. “Why would someone do that?”

Izzy stopped and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I don’t know. How would I know? It was probably some crazy person from a long time ago.” She glanced down the hall to his bedroom. “Maybe you should do what it says, and don’t go in the woods.”

Connor put his hand down, and moved to the side, his mouth pursed. “I don’t like it.”

Izzy pushed past. “We’ll buy some paint, and fix it today. Okay?”

He looked up at her, probably the last year he’d be doing that. A growth spurt beckoned, and this might be the year. He nodded, his eyes flicking back down the hall, towards his room.

“Can I choose the colour?”

“Course you can, love.” She pulled him gently from the flat and locked the door, pausing to stare, as if through the wood, down the hall and into Connor’s new bedroom. She could read the words from the landing. The thick black marks on white paint, a short while ago, unseen beneath magenta stripes and thin bands of black and white pinstripes.

Don’t go in the woods
Where eyes hide…

A shiver ran down her back. “Maybe it’s best stay away from the woods,” Izzy said, her back still to Connor. “Keep to Briar Lane, just until we know a little more.”

Chapter 1

2009-01-29T05:49:00.000-08:00

15th March
The waiting room on the third floor was empty. While Connor cleaned the condensation off his glasses, Izzy tried to read a magazine, her eyes flickering between the receptionist and a long hall that ran to the left of the counter. A phone rang. Izzy started, and the magazine fell closed on her lap.

“Ready?” the receptionist said into the handset. She nodded towards the hall. “Interview room twelve. Mrs Roberts.” She went back to her computer, and a mound of paperwork that leaned precariously to one side.

“Come on, love.” Izzy grabbed her backpack, and hurried away. “Let’s get this over with.”

They entered a stark room, halfway down the corridor, where a woman sat behind a wide desk, leafing through a folder. She closed the file as Izzy shut the door.

“Please sit,” Mrs Roberts said, with a glance at her watch.

Izzy checked her own watch, before offering a too-wide smile. She sat down on one of the chairs, the letter clutched between her fingers.

Connor flopped on the other chair, grinding the legs back on the linoleum.

“Sorry,” he said, and half-grinned at his mother.

“Ms Santana,” Mrs Roberts said. “You’re late.”

“Only by a couple of minutes…” Izzy said, her eyes wide.

“By several days.” Mrs Roberts opened the file on the desk. “We sent you the offer on the 6th of March.”

“I’m sorry – one of the other residents at the shelter took my post. I had no idea…” Izzy’s voice faded. She glanced at her son, then back at the council worker.

“Your non-communication means we offered the flat to the next person on the list.”

“Already?” Izzy restrained herself from jumping up and shouting. This was not fair!

“Rules are rules.”

“But I have your offer!” She thrust the letter forward.

“I’m very sorry.” Mrs Roberts closed the file.

Izzy searched the room for ideas on how to turn the situation around. “Have you sent the letter out?”

“Excuse me?”

“The letter – the offer – to the next person.”

“The letter is in the internal post, to be sent this morning.”

“Can’t you stop the letter – give me a chance to view the flat?” Izzy leaned forward, against the desk, and put her hands together. “Please?”

“It’s most unfortunate, but…” Mrs Roberts sighed. “There are rules.”

The housing officer’s skin was leathery from too much sun, but her eyes were bright. Her glance fell on Connor, she continued to speak to Izzy. “The council will in due course provide two more choices.” Mrs Roberts spoke with an accent Izzy couldn’t place – eastern European? Perhaps Polish? “But sometimes…” She drew her gaze away from Connor. “…It takes a while.”

“For what?”

“For accommodation to become available.”

“How long do you mean? Days? Weeks?” Izzy turned to Connor who shrugged. “We’re living, together in a bedroom.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice. “I don’t think it appropriate that I continue sharing a room with a thirteen-year old.”

“I’ll have to see what I can do.” Mrs Roberts cleared her throat. “But I’m sorry to say, some time might go by before another offer is made.”

“Months…?”

“Yes. And it could be anywhere. We have a turnover of sorts in central Reading. You might even get a house, but here in town I can’t guarantee the respectability of the neighbourhood.”

“I don’t know Reading that well,” Izzy lied. “Are there some rundown areas?”

Mrs Roberts smiled. “Much of central Reading…I would not walk through the town in the night time – unless I had no alternative. The offer you received last Monday was for a property near the centre.” She nodded, then added slowly, “I do, however… have one other flat, but it’s rather out of the way, located in a village. It has just been… redecorated. I could, perhaps…” She glanced again at Connor, “offer that to you.”

“It’s empty, though, and available?”

“Most certainly.”

“Then I’ll take it now.”

“Would it suit you? The village is too out of the way to suit most families.”

“Yes, but…” Izzy shifted in her seat. How should she reply? Images of dilapidated council houses, gardens full of junk and long grass, kids half dressed, months of filth mottling their skin, filled her head. But none of that mattered, she wanted to say…If you were living in a woman’s shelter, with your kid, in one room, you would do ANYTHING to get out of there. Personally, I would cut my finger and sign in blood if you asked me to, without pausing to question why. Okay, a slight exaggeration – but even if we got out of the shelter today, I’ll never forget the crying, shouting – the palpable sadness that enters with every breath. It’s just…not a happy place to be.

Beside Izzy, Connor shuffled his feet, and she glanced at him. He raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod towards Mrs Roberts. The housing officer, her hands resting on a folder full of papers, appeared to be studying Connor, but now she looked back at Izzy.

“Cedham is pleasant – I’ve been there,” she said. “I would class the place as a small village, and if you own a car, driving to the western edge of Reading will take you just a few minutes. Cedham is surrounded by fields and lots of open space…and a wood that encroaches onto the back of the particular building on offer.” Mrs Roberts pulled a biro from a drawer, and wiggled it between her fingers. The tip tapped against the desk. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, once more rested on Connor. “Are you familiar with life in small villages?”

“Not really,” Izzy said. “What do you think, Connor? The flat sounds lovely, much better than the place Shannon was offered.”

“Didn’t they have a drug factory or something a few doors down from her flat?” Connor opened his mouth to continue. “I heard the whole house was rigged for growing pot – “

“That’s enough. Stop!” Izzy said suddenly.

Mrs Roberts raised a hand. “It is all right. I read about the factory in the Reading Chronicle. Shame how the town is turning out.” Mrs Roberts flicked through the papers in the folder. “An offer of a house or flat outside of Reading is unusual.”

“Cedham sounds so much better than living in town. And we can sign for the flat now?” Izzy pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, the curls fighting back and falling over her face. “That’ll be fine.” She thought for a second, then said, “You’re not suggesting I wait for the next offer?”

“No…” Mrs Roberts’ dark eyes rested on Izzy. “But if you accept, I need to point out that you will drop off the housing list. You will no longer be considered homeless, and for a change of residence you would need to start at the bottom again. So you would need to stay in the village for a time, at least.”

“That seems clear, then – I should accept this flat…”

“Ms Santana, it is your choice entirely.” Mrs Roberts opened the folder quickly. “To secure the flat, sign here, here, and again on this one.” She pulled out some documents and laid two copies on the desk, the biro alongside.

Izzy scratched her signature on the rental agreements.

“Thanks for all the help.”

The housing officer balanced her hands on the arms of the chair, and pushed her body into a standing position. With a smile, Mrs Roberts stared across the room. Izzy glanced over her shoulder, unsure if someone was outside the room, peering in through the glass panel. Discovering no one, she turned back to find Mrs Roberts had extended her hand. Izzy grasped it, and they shook.

“Thanks,” Izzy repeated.

“You’re welcome,”

“Come on, love.” Izzy turned and took two steps to the door before she realised he’d not moved. “Connor?”

He and Mrs Roberts appeared to be locked in a staring contest. A vacant expression had crept across Connor’s features.

Izzy put a hand in front of Connor’s eyes.

“Sorry, Mum.” He stumbled away from the intense gaze of the housing officer, and bolted from the room.

“Kids.” Izzy attempted a smile, but felt only half of her mouth curl up.

The housing officer smiled again. “Keep him out of the woods.”

Izzy stopped, halfway into the hall. “What did you say?”

“Take care of the woods. That’s all.” Mrs Roberts picked up an ornate walking stick from behind the desk. She leaned heavily on the handle, which ended in two gems that glistened between her fingers. “I mean, let him make friends first. The woods need getting used to.”

Izzy nodded cheerfully. “Umm, thanks.”

“Mum?” Connor waited at the other end of the hall.

“Coming,” Izzy said, and left.

Coombe's Wood Blog

2009-01-29T05:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, this is my first ever blog, and I admit, I haven't a clue what to do. I want a place to post my book, chapter by chapter. Hopefully, someone might stumble across Coombe's Wood and enjoy what they read.