Darkness Demands Part 16

"Baby Bones is coming today. Baby Bones is coming to play." The old rhyme came back to him. They'd sung it in the schoolyard once. His grandmother knew it, too, from when she was a child. "Baby Bones, Baby Bones. Down on your knees and pray. Baby Bones is coming todaya"

How did the rhyme end? He frowned.

Now he remembered. It had no end.

6.

At the far side of the cemetery Paul and Miranda found a quiet corner where they could be alone. Here there was little in the way of footpaths.

Compared to the trees the tombstones were black dwarfish figures. There was no noise apart from the breath-like sounds of leaves disturbed by a slight s.h.i.+ft in the evening air.

"Alone at last," Paul said.

"Amen to that."

As if ropes had been released they suddenly moved together, kissing each other hard on the lips.

Paul's heart surged. "G.o.d, I've waited for this."

"Paul?"

"Yes."

"I've got to be back by nine."

"d.a.m.na no, I'm not angry with you. I'm just annoyed that we haven't had longer together."

"It's only half-past eight." Then she said something that almost stopped his heart. "We've got timea if you want to?"

She sat down on a bank of gra.s.s between two mattress-like tombstones. Her skirt slipped upward showing a breathtaking stretch of the thigh. She loosened her top from the waistband of the skirt. In a moment he was beside her, kissing her lips. Her wash of dark hair across the gra.s.s was so beautiful it winded him. Golden dandelions encircled her head like a halo. For a while all he could do was watch her in wonder. Then: "Here," he whispered, slipping off his T-s.h.i.+rt. "Put this under your head."

She smiled up at him. "I feel so excited I could burst."

He kissed her. "I've been like that all day. G.o.d, you look amazing." Her hands closed behind his neck. She pulled him down onto her, kissing him hungrily. Within seconds he'd slipped off her top. Her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose up in two beautifully pointed mounds. The nipples were dark, enticing. Freckles dusted her skin. She was breathing hard now. White-hot lightning seemed to sear through him from head to toe.

"Paul. Paul?"

Her eyes twinkled at him in the gloom.

"Did you bring anything?"

Good G.o.d. He could have punched his own forehead. He'd even been to the bus station rest rooms where there were condom machines. Without a problem he'd bought a pack as easily as buying gum. But the moment she asked him Did you bring anything? he saw his bag lying at the foot of his bed. In the side compartment safe and sound-but not here-were the rubbers.

d.a.m.n. He let out a sigh. "Mirandaa you're not going to believe this."

"Oh no, don't tell mea" She screwed up her face as if someone had just stood on her bare toe. "You haven't forgotten to buy some."

"No. That's just it. I bought them. But I was in such a rush to see you tonight. Ia"

"Oh," she groaned with disappointment.

"Sorry." He felt the biggest fool known to humanity.

Good naturedly, she smiled up at him, then sighed. "You idiot."

"I second that."

She kissed him. "I'll never survive the weekend now."

"But we could see each other tomorrow?"

"I'm going away to London. It's Dad's birthday and he's taking us to see a show."

"Oh, s.h.i.+t."

"Oh, s.h.i.+t and the rest. I'll be sitting through a horrendous musical feeling so hot I could erupt."

He looked down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Once more they'd disappear. For how long this time?

She lightly scratched his back. His skin goosed. "You know, Paul. I've just finished my period."

"Yeah?" His mouth dried.

"We could still see this through to the end."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure."

"I mean, will it be safe?"

"I'm punctual as the town hall clock."

He looked down into her sparkling eyes. Her mouth was parted in a smile that made him want to melt. Buta "Miranda?"

"Mmm."

"It will bea you knowa unprotected."

"I haven't any dark secrets, have you?"

"No. But-"

"Shha now help me take off my skirt."

CHAPTER 12.

1.

That Friday evening the clock in the hallway hadn't struck nine before Paul came in through the front door.

John Newton noticed his son's face glowed red; he'd been running.

"You're back early, Paul," John said from the kitchen.

"Yeaha you knowa"

"Fancy a beer?"

"No."

"No? Wait I'll get my diary and make a note of that." John smiled. "Paul Newton refuses beer. UN call emergency meeting."

That should have brought at least a weak oh-no-Dad's-trying-to-be-witty smile to Paul's face, but he looked fl.u.s.tered. There'd been some trouble with a bunch of kids in the village when they'd first moved there. Paul had been ha.s.sled just because he was new. John hoped it all wasn't flaring up again. He gave another broad smile, aiming to put Paul at his ease.

"The beer's nice and cold," he said. "Red Stripe."

"Red Stripe?" Result. "Oh, all right. Thanks."

"It's a bit on the warm side to be running."

"I was just hurrying to get back."

"Oh?"

"There's something I want to watch at ninea Anything wrong, Dad?"

"Noa it's just you look as if you've run a marathon or something."

"I'll have a shower later. The beer's in the refrigerator?"

"Yeah, top shelf. There's some kabanos sausage wants eating too."

Paul shrugged, looking distracted. He seemed to have his mind on other things. "I might later."

"Are you all right, Paul?"

Suddenly he looked defensive. "Fine. Why?"

"You look as if you've lost something."

Paul appeared uncomfortable. "I don't see any beer."

"Top shelf, Paul."

"Right."

Paul crossed the kitchen. John watched him and gave a little shake of his head. Maybe he was as edgy and pre-occupied as that as a teenager. Adolescence should carry a government health warning.

He poured a gla.s.s of milk for Elizabeth, then went through into the living room where Val watched television.

"Everything OK?" she asked with a sleepy smile.

"Everything's fine."

Outside the sun at last slipped behind the hill, and darkness rolled down over them like a cloud.

2.

"Is it supper-time?"

"You've had it earlier, Dad. About half an hour ago."

"I'm hungry."

"There's no more until breakfast. Therea have you done your teeth?"

The old man sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in pajamas. "Is there any cake? "

"Well, I could do him a slice of toast," Cynthia told her husband as he folded Stan's clothes.

"Cynthia, he'll give himself a stomach ache if he eats before bedtime. Then if he can't sleep we'll be up half the night with him."

"But-"

"Cynthia. He'll be right as rain."