know, the cloaked figure holding the noose.’
‘We saw it earlier.’ Liza gave him a smile as though she had a slice of a birthday cake that had all gone by the time he had gotten to the table. ‘We decided it would be bad taste to go looking at the body.’
‘Besides, the adults kept us away from the river,’ said Dwayne.
This remark drew an agitated glance from Liza. ‘Be that as it may Dwayne,’ she said, ‘I would not have liked to ogle some poor soul floating in the muddy waters of Tristle River.’
The plant Jack’s mother found must have absorbed her attention, or she would have mentioned the commotion to him. Bill and he often went to the well beside the statue holding the hangman’s noose. The other statues were all animals, foxes, wolves, a few birds; their favourite was the cloaked figure with the skeletal hand. They always shared an uncomfortable feeling in the waning light, as the hangman’s shadow lengthened over them, as though it judged them as they played, which only added to its attraction.
‘I can see you’re like all the rest,’ said Liza. ‘No doubt that freak, you hang around with, is already up at Long Sleep. With his head always in a book, he acts innocent. Give him a chance however, and the freak,’ her emphasis on the epithet made her teeth click together, ‘would gawp at the body like everyone else.’
Taking a step closer, Jack said, ‘There’s nothing wrong with Bill. Just because he can’t annoy people like you, doesn’t make him any different.’
‘Liza has another Talent too,’ said Dwayne, oblivious to the scornful look the girl gave him.
‘You should run and hide Liza, before I have my shadow do something - unpleasant.’ This time Jack smiled, as the self-satisfied smirk left Liza’s face.
‘Why don’t you and your shadow run along with the rest of the rubberneckers? Come Dwayne, I do not fancy wasting the first dry day in a week on the muddy slopes of the Tristle. Let’s go to the meadow.’ She snapped her fingers, and with a haughty twirl of her skirt left.
Jack spotted the look of disappointment in Dwayne’s large eyes and could not stop from grinning. It was his own fault, why would Dwayne want to hang around with a girl. They were never fun. Why head for the meadow when he could explore the woods, or, now that no one else was around, use the swing tied to the Hangman’s Tree.
Extended to twice his length Yang slipped his hands into a dirty puddle and, ignoring Jack’s waving arms, threw the water over Liza’s white skirt. She wailed in disgust and outrage, before disappearing in a ground hugging mist.
‘I’ll get you Yin,’ she cried from the departing cloud.
‘Liza, wait for me,’ called Dwayne, trailing after the fleeing mist that sped toward the meadow.
Shaking his head Jack wanted to admonish his wayward twin, useless as that would prove. At least they were now alone in the street. With a quickened heart, he marched from his gate and up the road. He began to jog outside Miss Mistletoe’s house, and was running by the time he passed the rundown Space house, with the rotting wheelbarrow leaning against the gap-toothed fence. His eyes fastened on the rosebush.
Hoping Liza was right, that Bill’s grandparents were by the river, he stopped beside the red and white flowers. Beneath the thorns and twisted stems, he looked at the earth, seeing no sign of the disturbance the Giant had wrought the previous night. Perturbed by the lack of evidence he turned. Only one torn flower lay on the cobblestones. Picking up the rose, he knew anyone else would presume the storm had caused it to fall.
Jack did not know whether Yang had seen the night visitor before he had extinguished the light. Glancing at Yang he hoped his shadow did not call attention to them; he needed to know what the Giant had left here. On hands and knees, he pushed his fingers into the yielding soil. He buried the Blue Leaf, Grandma Poulis used in her tea, in handfuls of