Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Dark Woods

Anya opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of the room. She couldn't understand what woke her up, and she turned on her other side and started taking slow measured breaths, trying to lull herself back to sleep. As always, it didn't help, and she tried counting in her head, which was just as useless. Her thoughts started to wander, and she squeezed her eyes tighter, pushing her concern for Varya, her worry for Henry, her to-do list, and the list of groceries she needed to give to Sally in the morning, in the back of her mind. And then she sat up sharply. She felt her heart boom once in her throat before the full realisation came: Varya's bed was empty, and the noise that had woken Anya up was the bang of the back door closing.

She had her jacket and one boot on, by the time she jerked the door open, and hopping on one foot, she pulled on her second Sorel. She could never remember how to turn on the flashlight in her mobile without opening the menu, and her hands were shaking so much, it took her three attempts to unlock her screen.

"Varya!" she hissed, moving the phone from side to side. "Varya! Where are you?"

She rushed to the broken gate at the back of the yard. The sky above her was pitch black, and the only street lamp was on the road leading to the motorway from the farm. Just five steps away from the house, Anya felt like she was swimming in ink. She lit up the ground under her feet, hoping to see the girl's prints.

"Varya! Seriously?" Anya spat out a swearing in Russian, and climbed over a fallen piece of the fence. "Not again! I hate that cat!"

Just as she feared, there was a line of footprints in the snow, leading away from the farm into the woods - parallel to Anya and Varya's tracks from the day before. That would be the fifth time Persimmon had escaped in the past three days, and it seemed the daft animal once again had headed in the same direction.

"I'm going to kill them both," Anya muttered, treading through the snow.

The woods scared her witless, but anger was making her move quicker, so she kept cursing and threatening the absent cat and the stubborn child, promising them the worst tortures and punishments. At least, unlike the two previous times, Anya didn't have to drag wailing Henry with her on this search mission. On the other hand, this was the first time the cat had escaped at night. Anya snarled a few more Russian expressions that would make a lorry driver blush. What cheesed her off the most was that they had discussed it with Varya the day before, and Anya specifically had told the girl that if the cat were to ever get out at night, Varya was under no circumstances allowed to follow the animal.

After about twenty minutes of walking, her back sweaty, everything inside her shaking from panic and exertion, she stopped, pressing her hand into the nearest tree.

"Varya!" she shouted, but just as all the previous times no answer came. "Varya!"

And then she heard a bang - and a scream. Anya rushed in the direction of the noise and a weak glimmer of light she could now see between the trees. Her legs hurt, every muscle burning and as if tearing, and she stumbled and fell. She frantically thrashed, searching for the phone she'd dropped, jumped to her feet, and ran.

She didn't have a good look at a small cabin that stepped out of the darkness. All she saw was a back door with glass broken, light streaming through it, and she heard shouting and another short scream - definitely Varya's - and she lunged forward. She jerked the handle and pushed the door open, only one thought in her mind - to get to her child.

Varya stood near the opposite wall, pressing Persimmon to her chest. Anya could see nothing but the girl's terrified widened eyes - and then a large man, looming over her. His face was twisted in rage, and he lifted his fisted hand. Anya jumped between them - and shielded Varya, opening her arms like a bird.