The bales were gone; the stubble, beneath windy skies, was a dull brown.
Most of the time, Zoe thought, we behave as if everyone is going to follow the rules.
Even the word moment was wrong.
She slipped between the teeth of time.
She could still conjure what she recalled as the first occasion.
Her parents thought she was sitting quietly for once, but she was hovering nearby.
Then she was back again.
The whelk had left an oval mark on her palm.
She couldnt make it happen.
Sometimes it didnt for months, and she worried she had lost the knack.
Then she would leave again.
Now she waited, hoping to catch some reverberation, however faint: an aftershock.
Walking back to the gate, she saw a pale-green crayon lying in the grass.
DUNCAN WAS IN THE KITCHEN, eating toast glistening with plum jam, reading a book.
You left this in the field, she said.
He set the crayon beside his plate.
What were you doing there?
She wanted to be angrywhy had he gone without telling her?but as usual he had disarmed her.
I just wanted to see it again.
He held out half the toast, and she took a bite.
Its weird that the police havent found the man.
I thought being there I mightshe eyed the crayon sense something.
Duncan took a last bite and ran his finger round the rim of the plate.
Maybe too many things have happened in the field, he said.
Sometimes I think I hear her talking, but I cant make out the words.
Do you ever hear her?
Now youve told me, she said, Ill listen harder.
Had one of them lured Karel into the field?
Her eyes flicked over a man close to her fathers age, a boy around Matthews.
Neither looked like a bad person, but what did a bad person look like?
Her fathers last apprentice, Freddy, had a nicely freckled face and whistled while he worked.
