Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
He did at least turn the gas guns off when night fell – probably as much to preserve his own sleep, Kate thought wearily, as theirs.
But before then, the children had to endure having their homework time disturbed, made worse by the way the interval between the first and second bangs was maddeningly unpredictable.
Will claimed to be unbothered by them, but Tilly hated it, waiting anxiously for the next explosion, unable to concentrate on her spellings.
The next morning, at six thirty, the guns started again.
It was like the precursor to a battle, Kate thought wearily – she’d read somewhere that, in the First World War, both sides liked to start the morning of a big offensive with a barrage.
She resigned herself to simply having to get used to them.
Around eight, there was a new development. Three men appeared among the trees at the bottom of the garden. They were wearing hi-vis vests and hard hats with ear defenders, and they were nailing something to the tree trunks.
She set off down the garden, but they’d already vanished back into the wood. Moments later, chainsaws started up – like loud, angry hornets. The noise deepened as the blades met timber, an anguished snarl.
As she got closer, she got a better look at what they’d been doing before. Arranged in a line, so they faced directly up the garden, were three large signs, each bearing the words: PRIVATE – KEEP OUT.