The Shadow House(39)

‘And Kara?’ Kit said. ‘At what point did the stork drop her on your doorstep?’

My heart twisted.

Crazy bitch. You’re insane. You need medical help.

‘Ah, that’s a tale for another time.’ I dug my paddle into the water and sped up. ‘So, what about you?’

Kit cleared his throat. ‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you. I’ve showed you mine, now you show me yours.’

‘Ohhh.’ Kit raised his eyebrows and gave me a dazzling smile. ‘Well, if that’s the game we’re playing …’

But he didn’t say anything else, and I felt a prickle of irritation. Great listener, but terrible sharer, I thought. Red flag.

Turning away, I looked across the dam towards the village. I wondered what Kara was doing, whether she missed me—

And then I saw it.

The shape. The shadow.

The old woman from the woods, grey and still, standing in the shade of a tree, one hand on the trunk, her long hair whipping across her face. Close enough for me to see the specifics of her clothes: a mint-green raincoat over what appeared to be a nightgown.

My scalp prickled. My pulse sped up.

The woman on the shore shimmered like a mirage, her edges blurring and bleeding into the background. She looked at me and raised her arm.

And then I felt my board tipping, tilting, sliding out from under me. I staggered, throwing my hands out, trying to stop myself from falling, falling, falling …

Slap.

My body hit the water, all arms and legs, and I was in, weightless, the water snapping over my head with a whooomp. Bubbles, white noise, pressure in my ears.

I bobbed back to the surface, heavy and humiliated. Grabbing my board, I hoisted myself back on.

Somewhere to my left, Kit was calling me. ‘Alex? Are you alright?’ His voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.

‘Did you see that?’ I gasped, flopping around like a seal.

‘See what?’

‘The person on the …’ Pushing my sodden hair from my eyes, I looked back at the shore – but the grey-haired woman had vanished. I knelt on my board and blocked the glare of the sun with my hand, scanning the circumference of the dam.

‘What’s up? What are you looking for?’

Insane. You’ve lost your mind.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, I … I thought I saw something but … I guess I didn’t.’

Kit looked as if he was about to say something else, but then seemed to change his mind. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s head back. Give me a hand with the boards?’


I hadn’t realised how heavy the paddleboards were until I carried mine in from the water.

‘Woah,’ I said. ‘How did you get both of these down here by yourself?’

‘With difficulty,’ Kit said, laughing. ‘No, kidding, it wasn’t too bad. I don’t live far.’ He pointed to a building just visible beyond a cluster of gum trees.

We gathered up our towels from the bank and dried ourselves off, then heaved the boards across the grass and through the trees. Kit’s house was L-shaped and startlingly modern. Situated in its own clearing and clad entirely with caramel-coloured wood, it blended perfectly with the forest itself: an architecturally innovative gingerbread cottage.

‘Oh, wow,’ I said, stopping to rest several metres from the front steps. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘Thanks. I sort of designed it myself, with a bit of help, obviously. Got time to come and have a look?’

He led the way around the side to a neat lawn and a large deck. We hauled the boards up onto the timber, then Kit opened a set of sliding doors and I followed him into an extremely tidy living area with a comfortable-looking sofa, a stocked bookshelf and a wood-burner. A guitar leaned on a stand in one corner, a large plant spread its leaves in another. The kitchen was at the back: new appliances, simple cabinetry, clean surfaces. No fuss, no clutter.

Kit went straight to the fridge. I hung back at the door, wary of leaving a trail of wet, sandy footprints.

‘Beer?’

I shook my head, but then changed my mind. ‘Actually, go on then, yes, please.’ My accidental swim had woken me up a bit, but my mouth was still dry, my head still fuzzy. A beer was exactly what I needed.

Kit returned from the kitchen with two frosty bottles, and we cracked the twisty tops together. Then he took out his phone, tapped the screen, and music began to play from a hidden source, a gentle chiming melody with a husky female voice.

‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘To a good day.’

‘A good day.’ Clink. I drank deeply, three long glugs, then a yawn took me by surprise. ‘Sorry,’ I said, my eyes watering. ‘Bit tired.’

‘That’s alright,’ Kit said. ‘Big move, new house, two kids. I’d be tired, too.’

I nodded and, briefly, the room spun. ‘Whoops,’ I said, reaching for the back of the sofa.

‘You alright?’ said Kit, stepping forward. ‘Do you need to sit down?’

‘I’m fine.’ I reddened. ‘Well, not fine fine. I’ve got a lot going on right now. But it’s all good, I’ll be okay.’

‘Maybe take a load off anyway,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’