Darkside

As they came down the hill into Shipcott, they could see a knot of people standing in the road roughly halfway through the village. In the brief glimpse they had before they lost sight of them again behind the hedges, Jonas thought he saw a horse, and felt unease start to pulse in his chest.

Lucy glanced at him questioningly, but he could only shrug.

They lost sight of the crowd until they rounded the curve in the road. Jonas slowed to a crawl and then parked a little haphazardly outside the shop and got out.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked Billy Beer.

‘The Marsh boy’s gone mazed,’ said Billy impatiently, as if it happened all the time and they were sick of it.

Jonas felt his stomach twist at the words. He hurried through the crowd and saw Danny Marsh dressed in hunting scarlet – complete with velvet hat, white britches and conker-topped boots – holding the reins of a large bay horse. It was saddled but ungroomed; there was dried mud up its legs, and its mane was a dusty tangle of dirt and twigs.

Before Jonas could speak, Danny saw him and broke into the biggest of smiles. ‘Jonas! We’re going hunting! You coming?’ He rushed towards Jonas, making the horse throw its head up and roll its eyes. Danny jerked the reins. ‘Steady up, Tigger! Stand!’ Then he threw his arm around Jonas, laughing.

Jonas took in the scene. Danny and the horse, which Jonas knew wasn’t his; beyond him stood Marvel and his team, including the woman – Rice, he thought her name was – who looked troubled, almost tearful. Framed in the doorway of his home stood Alan Marsh, his face blank as he watched his son disintegrate in front of him.

‘What’s up, Danny?’ Jonas said, trying to keep his voice level.

‘Going hunting,’ said Danny again. ‘Brilliant day for it.’

Jonas looked at the leaden sky that promised more snow.

‘The hunt’s not out today, mate. You’ve got the wrong day.’

‘Aaaaah,’ said Danny with a dismissive wave, ‘bollocks to that! Who says it’s got to be Thursdays? Me and Tigger are going today! You want to come?’

To Jonas’s surprise, he saw hope shining in Danny’s eyes. As if he really expected Jonas to say yes.

That’s not Tigger, he wanted to say. That’s not Tigger and this isn’t right.

‘That’s my horse!’ said John Took angrily from somewhere. Jonas didn’t bother looking. ‘And my fucking coat!’

Why hadn’t Marvel and his men just grabbed hold of Danny, thrown him down in the slushy road and bundled him back into the house? Why did he have to be involved? On a day like this, with Lucy sick and getting sicker? It was almost as if they’d been waiting for him.

Marvel stepped out of the crowd, looking like a man who’d seen enough and wanted to get back into the warm. The moment Danny Marsh caught sight of him, he let go of Jonas and swung the bay around in a short, clattering arc, which made Marvel – and all the crowd – recede like water to stay out of reach of its rump and heels. Danny did it again, using the horse to clear a space for himself in the middle of the road. Jonas took two nervous steps backwards. The horse snorted again and gave a confused little prance, scattering people behind it.

‘STAND, Tigger!’ yelled Danny and slapped the horse’s muzzle, making it back rapidly into a parked car, rocking it and crumpling the door like tin foil, then skittering sideways as more of the crowd parted around it.

You’ve lost it, thought Jonas dully. You’ve lost it in front of all these people. Danny Marsh thought he was ten years old and they were still friends. And he was trying to drag Jonas back there with him – back to when they were kids hanging out at the farm, with their dreams and their lives intact …

Jonas felt anger swelling inside him like a gross burp.

He reached out and gripped Danny’s bicep, pulling him close in an attempt at privacy.

‘Danny,’ he said tightly, ‘let’s go inside and talk about this.’

Danny looked at him, suddenly serious. ‘You want to talk, Jonas? I’m ready. I’ve always been ready.’

Jonas dropped his arm. He had no idea what he meant, but there was a sense of threat in Danny Marsh that caught him unawares and sent a shiver down his spine. Right here in the middle of the day, in the middle of the street, surrounded by half of Shipcott and fellow officers of the law, he felt in serious danger for the first time that he could remember.

Danny Marsh opened his arms in a loud ‘bring it on’ gesture, flapping the reins and making the horse flinch once more, but when he spoke again it was softly – as if he and Jonas were the only ones there.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, Jonas.’

Danny was crazy. They all knew that. He was stuck in some recess of his own mind. Jonas wouldn’t play his game. This had to end.

‘That’s not Tigger,’ he said brutally. ‘Tigger’s dead.’

‘Fuck you!’ cried Danny, and he let go of the horse and swung a wild fist at Jonas.