The Way In

By Stephen Laverack

Whilst on an early morning photography expedition in the peaceful North Yorkshire countryside, James witnesses something that just isn’t possible! What he sees fires his curiosity to know the truth. What he learns pulls his life from its easy comfortable path and starts him towards the discovery of a family secret. This secret and the love he finds so unexpectedly change his life forever and lead him to take the few short steps to somewhere else entirely.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Laverack
• Release date: Nov 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310735288

Stephen Laverack

Born in late November 1959. Most of my life has been spent working in agriculture. My full time occupation is as a multi drop delivery driver for a North Yorkshire agricultural merchant. I have the pleasure of driving around some of the most beautiful places in Yorkshire and getting paid for it!I have been married for thirty years and wouldn't change a thing. We have two children who make us proud, worried and irritated, sometimes they even manage all three at once. But again I wouldn't change a thing.I have been intending to write for most of my life but I haven't for the same reason I don't play chess. It takes a lot of concentration!My first book isn't the book I started out to write but it introduces the setting for the book I intended. The problem with starting this is that another five or six or more ideas for books have presented themselves as I have progressed. The thing I wonder is will I live long enough.I like small scruffy dogs, but no longer have one.I hate five pence coins.

Book preview

Prologue

She wasn't sure what woke her, it could have been the stink, or it could have been the sound of the cockerel welcoming the dawn. She shook herself into full wakefulness, scratching at a flea bite on her arm in an absent minded way. The sparse straw on the floor hadn't helped make her temporary prison any more comfortable, if anything it had made things worse. She had tried to avoid the remaining chicken shit on the floor but her skirt was dotted with it, she must have moved around in the night. Today was to be her last day of life on this earth and she was covered in chicken shit! Pain, and then oblivion, that was what awaited her today. If there were anyone left in the village who had any sympathy for her, the best she could hope for was that they had used damp wood to build the fire, then the smoke would kill her before the flames touched her skin. That was all she could hope for, the bitterness of the thought brought tears to her eyes.

All she had ever done was try to help; she knew which herbs to use to ease most common ailments and how to prepare them. The knowledge had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations, slowly built on by each successive generation, growing and refining down the long years, and now with her death it would be lost. If it weren't for the fact that she was the one who would suffer she would have found the whole thing almost amusing; with her death they would be loosing all those years of accumulated knowledge. Tomorrow there wouldn't be anyone within a day's ride who knew enough to ease toothache.

Damn them all to toothache, especially that young, stupid, hypocritical priest. Damn him to hell with an ache in every tooth and a boil on his cock.

She knew how she ended up here, she could trace every mistake she'd made to arrive in this make shift prison, how she came to be sitting in chicken shit. At no time during the whole episode had she taken any action that would cause harm to anyone; there was no ill intent in any of her actions.

It had started with the priest's mother, his only living relative; she was ill, in pain, and suffering. The priest had asked, begged for her help, even to kissing her hands when she agreed to go with him there and then. She had gathered her things and gone with him, in all innocence, hoping she could help. Listening to him reel off the symptoms as they walked she had doubts about her ability to help. But hearing was not the same as seeing and she withheld her judgement until she met the patient.

As soon as she saw the woman she knew there was nothing she could do, other than give her something to ease the pain. She was dying and that was all there was to it. She tried to explain but he wouldn't accept it he just kept on insisting she try when there was no hope, none at all. She had helped, she knew she had, but all her help did nothing more than ease the woman's passing. But considering the pain the woman was in when she arrived she didn't feel her time to have been wasted.

It wasn't until after he had buried his mother that the rumours began, spiteful small tales, nasty insinuations, which led her to this stinking prison, all instigated by that a twice-damned priest. If only her brother had been back from the drove, she wouldn't have been here, the rumours wouldn't have been allowed to take hold and the damned cowardly priest wouldn't have dared start them if her brother was home. But he wouldn't be back for at least a month, too late, she'd be ash long before he knew of it, and all his anger wouldn't be of any use to her.

She shifted to try to find a more comfortable position but it wasn't possible, besides it wouldn't make any difference by tonight she'd be dust, dust and ash blowing on the wind. The discomfort she was suffering now was nothing compared to what was to come!

She must have managed to drift off again as the next thing she knew the bolt on the door was shoved back; the door was flung open, and the morning sunshine flooded in. She was still blinking trying to adjust her eyesight to the light when she was grabbed by the arm and hauled out into the full glare of the sun. Before she knew it she was bundled into a waiting cart and her hands were bound to the front rail, removing the possibility that she could duck down and hide. She was jerked against the restraint as the cart set off from the village with a jeering crowd following, she managed to keep her balance as best she could against the jolting, she was determined to keep her dignity, if that were possible! The fear grew as they approached the journeys end, she could see the stake with kindling piled around it as the cart stopped, she couldn't help but stare at her fate. She could feel her knees shaking beneath her muck-splattered skirt. And there was the priest, his eyes glowing with demented fervour as she was hauled out of the cart, holding his damned book like a shield against his chest. She stood for a while gathering her courage for the coming ordeal, she wouldn't allow herself to be dragged to the stake; she was determined to walk. All that was left to her was her dignity, and she would preserve it as long as she could. She started to walk, her last walk, towards the stake and the pile of kindling. She glanced at the crowd, her disgust changed to hope as she caught a look from one of the bystanders, Thomas!

She allowed herself a smile for the first time in days, there was a chance, there must be or he wouldn't be here. She glanced again at the arrangement; the stake wasn't in its usual place and the willow! It had re-grown much since she was last here, it was worth a try, she thought she could do it; she should be able to do it! She shook off the hands that were trying to push her towards her fate, now was the time for a performance. She rounded on the crowd allowing her fury to show. ANYONE who touches me will share my pain, ANYONE! You will feel the burning for the remainder of your worthless lives, I CURSE YOU ALL TO DAMNATION AND TORMENT, MAY YOU BURN IN HELL.

The fury she managed to portray with her final defiant shout wasn't all feigned, she frightened them back, for a short while, they were too afraid to come near and that was all the time she had. She closed her eyes breathed in, and started to count, yan, tan, tay, then breathed out walking towards the pond only slightly to one side of the post, she hoped, prayed, that the tree growth was old enough, large enough. She felt the cold wash over her after three steps but wasn't sure what it was; she kept on walking, kept her eyes tight closed, until her feet squelched into sodden vegetation, the edge of the pond? She stopped, knowing she stood on the edge of the pond, there was no noise, the world had become silent, dare she look? After what seemed like an eternity of silence she screwed up her courage, she made herself turn and open her eyes; she dropped to her knees in shock. The scene had changed, the crowd was gone, there was no one there, no one at all, gone, the stake and its kindling and the vindictive crowd all gone. She had gained freedom she realised, freedom of a sort, only of a sort. And in another place, which was also in some strange way the same place, here and there, Witches Wood had gained its name.

The cat had been dozing in the warmth of a patch of sunlight, it hadn't eaten for a couple of days and the hunger was beginning to tell but the warmth was soothing so it dosed and dreamt of prey. What it saw in its dream was so real that it went from sleeping to pounce in one motion, before it woke fully its teeth bit into living flesh, warm blood spurting warm into its mouth. The young bullock went down in shock under the weight of the sudden attack and as the other beast thundered to the other end of the field their fear driving them straight through the fence, the luckless stirk lay kicking away its life in the jaws of the big cat.

The Watcher stood, suddenly frozen as she registered the activation of the gate, she didn't know what had come through but she knew something had.

Evening came, softly, quietly, the growing darkness was slowly hiding the evidence of the kill when a young man approached, encroaching, disturbing the now fully sated cat. From the darkness at the edge of the wood came a hissing such as the young man had never heard in his life, he froze. After hissing its hate at the trespasser who had dared to disturb its slumber the great cat turned and bolted, fleeing the world that had provided it a meal back to somewhere else, somewhere close by but at the same time somewhere as far away as it was possible to be. At the same time the young man finally lost the last shred of his false bravado and bolted back to the safety of the company he had left to check the fence.

The young couple lying on the blanket in the sunshine were nearly asleep, their passion spent leaving them both drowsy and at peace with each other and the world in general. They were nearly asleep or perhaps they were asleep they never knew but simultaneously they both rose and together asleep or awake, they were never sure which, walked out of their world, before they knew what was happening they were somewhere else entirely, somewhere three steps from where the blanket lay deserted on the ground but also somewhere further from everything they knew than they thought it was possible to be. Perhaps this was paradise?

Chapter 1

It was dark as James got out of the van. Not pitch black; it never is in the open countryside, but the soft cool darkness of pre dawn besides there was the moon adding its silvery light to the landscape. He could feel the grass was heavy with dew and pictured in his mind the leather of his boots turning dark as it came into contact with the wet grass. He closed the door quietly and stood a moment and let the sounds of the pre dawn countryside soak in as he waited for his vision to adjust to the semi darkness. He still had a half-mile walk to the hide, and he intended to walk it without the aid of a torch, and silently, he had no wish to give away his presence. He was familiar with the route, even though it was two weeks since he'd prepared his hide, it was an easy walk and his memory of the track was good. He opened the back of the van, picked out his rucksack and slung it into position and then slung his camera case over his right shoulder, closed the back doors quietly, locked up and set off. The longest part of the walk was a farm track to the bottom field, he had decided it was too rough for the van after damaging the exhaust while taking equipment to make the hide he wasn't taking the risk again. The track had an old hedge on the left with irregularly spaced oaks; the hedge was now gapped, whether this was caused by damage or old age; it wasn't possible to tell. He knew from memory that it still bore the signs of remedial attention in the form of horizontal branches where they had been laid to fill earlier gaps. James started up the track looking down most of the time; he could just make out the darker outline of the pot holes left from the winters use. He didn't rush, a twisted ankle and an early limp home would mean missing this opportunity, the weather forecast was good, it should be a glorious morning when the sun rose.

He reached the gate to the bottom field quietly except for alarming a roosting cock pheasant, which crashed out of the tree chortling as it flew out into the field. James's only response to the sudden noise was to silently wish the bird safety until dawn. There were cattle grazing the field now, so rather than open the gate he climbed it at the crook end and skirted the ruts and mud that were inevitable in any gateway used by farmers for field access, and set off across the field. The shapes of cattle appeared in front of him, out of the gloom as he walked, some stood dozing and some quietly cropping grass, they moved slowly out of his path as he approached. Do cattle dream? And if so what of? Being a calf in new grass on a fine spring morning or some darker racial memory of wolves, and fear? He smiled; there was no answer to that question, and no way to find one.

There was a fence topped with barbed wire along the edge of the copse, he picked a place midway between the posts where the wire would have most give and lowered his camera bag over the other side. Then holding the wire down swung his left leg over, followed by his right, great he didn't catch the barbs; once again he was grateful that he had long legs. He picked up the camera bag and stood for a moment listening, then moved onto the edge of the arable field which formed the hypotenuse of the triangle of land on which the copse, the pond and the rough ground stood. Walking along the edge of the copse on the arable land would help him to make silent approach to the hide. Silence wasn't essential as he had nearly an hour to wait before dawn, but it wouldn't harm to make a quite approach. The copse stood on the boundary between two farms and was about an acre in size and its eastern edge was bordered by arable land currently growing wheat, on the western edge was the field enclosing the cattle through which James had approached the copse. The roofless hide was just inside the trees on the north edge where the sandy ground was slightly higher. The view looked out towards the small pond and the area of unused ground in front of it. The area had been fenced off when the field beyond was used for grazing but since the field had been in arable use the fence had fallen into disrepair. The fence was missing completely in some parts and what was left was overgrown with the remains of last year's cleavers, nettles and grass underlying this season's new growth. The ground between the pond and the wood was grazed short by the rabbits from the warren on the edge of the wood; the vegetation gradually became taller as the distance from the safety of the wood and the warren increased.

As he walked along the edge of the wood he let the sounds and smells of the night brush his senses, taking simple enjoyment in every breath of cool night air as he walked. His care seemed to be paying off, not even another pheasant disturbed the night and the only sound to break the silence was the hoot of a tawny owl somewhere across the grass field, he thought it was probably perched in one of the ancient oaks in the hedge along the lane. The edge of the wood appeared out of the night noticeable by the lack of the bulk of trees against the lesser darkness of the sky. James crossed the old fence line by one of the many gaps, stepping carefully as there were still strands of wire half buried in turf. The smell of the wood, leaf mould, the trees themselves, rabbits and the rank stink of a dog fox which must have passed through shortly before, assaulted his senses as he started to work his way to the hide, treading carefully, in part for silence, and in part to avoid scratches from the undergrowth.

The hide was a simple surround of branches and with old grass worked into the gaps; James had left a slit large enough for the camera lens. It wouldn't hide anyone completely but it would effectively break up the outline of any part left visible by the occupant inside. He eased in through the gap in the back, placed his rucksack and camera bag near the rear, knelt down and started to comb over the floor with his fingers, gathering up the small twigs and moving them gently to the back wall near the bag and case. The smell of leaf mould rose from the ground as he worked to clear any woodland detritus that may make a sound as he moved. Satisfied at last he opened the camera bag and took out the tripod, working in the gloom he would have to be careful to achieve a reasonably level set, but with care it was possible. He used his hand and arm to check the level against the slit in the hide and was at last satisfied with the height. The camera was new, this was its first serious outing, he had traded in his old SLR and gone over to a digital, though he defended his old camera to his friends he had long wanted a digital version of the old camera, the cost was high and saving took time but he had the camera now. The old lenses fitted and though the lens he was using was second hand when he bought it the glass was unscratched and clear it wasn't the lens he would have liked but the combination worked well enough. When the camera and lens were attached to the tripod he removed the lens cover and settled himself on the ground, took the flask out of his rucksack; coffee would be good now. More by luck than anything else, he poured some coffee into the cup, tucked his knees under his chin and settled down to wait. The smell of the coffee should be gone before the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon.

As he waited for dawn to start to lighten the sky his thoughts turned again to the pond, it was deep enough to be weed free, except for the margin, it must have been manmade as its shape was too regular, but the reasons for its construction were lost in time. An ancient willow stood on the side of the pond furthest from the copse; there was a hollow in its trunk where the great branches parted. The tree had presence, it exuded a sense of age, a feeling of peace seemed to emanate from its gnarled bark. But the reputation and the name given to the area were strange. Local legend spoke of a spate of stock worrying and occasionally complete disappearance on the edge of the woodland in the early nineteen fifties, the dogs responsible were never found, nor was any trace of the missing livestock discovered. There were even stranger darker stories, hints of witches, and murder from earlier times.

James's mind returned from its wandering as the first grey light began to show in the East. He hadn't nodded off but it was a close thing. He gulped the last of his coffee, put the cup back on the flask and replaced it in his rucksack, sat up and started peering intently into the area around the pond. He was a keen amateur photographer he had no exceptional skill, but he had a countryman's interest in nature. Any photographs that were good enough would go on his web site. Again this was an amateur site and he wasn't making anything from it, but he might, and he enjoyed updating it. The trip this morning was chasing a rumour and a very fleeting glimpse, which wasn't long enough to be certain of what he thought he saw. His studying of the area since that glimpse led him to believe this was the most likely spot to get chance of a good photograph of them all together. The copse was in the middle of the area where sightings had been reported; it was disturbed very little by the presence of people. Roe deer were common in the area now and any trip round the lanes at night with a good lamp would show up six to a dozen spread around the countryside. What was rare, very rare, was a doe with three fawns, and all of them seemingly thriving. He had been looking since he first heard the rumour from a friend. He was sure he had caught a glimpse a couple of weeks earlier while he was putting the finishing touches to the hide. So he was here to wait through the dawn and he would be back to wait again tomorrow no matter what success he had. Faintly in the gloom he started to make out flickers of movement small grey shapes against the short grazed vegetation. Rabbits breakfast time! He counted fifteen out in the open; there could be at least three times that number out feeding. Only about a third were fully-grown the rest were this years young. Might as well have a few rabbits on film soon as there's enough light he muttered under his breath. Another ten minutes and he could make out the rabbits in the viewfinder; the LCD screen would give off too much light. He was using a remote shutter release in these light conditions the shutter speed would be so slow that the slightest vibration would blur the shot. The sun had not touched the horizon but there was light enough to start tracking rabbits through the lens and timing the take as soon as they stopped moving. None of the shots were exceptional; much more light was needed to get good pictures of rabbits at breakfast. The adult buck he was watching straightened and tensed, ears twitching as he stared to his right towards the longer vegetation near the pond. His hind feet twitched as he thumped the ground twice in warning, but the warning came a fraction of a second too late. The piercing scream of one of the half grown rabbit near the long vegetation was abruptly cut off by a crunch as the fox took a better hold. James swung the lens round as unobtrusively as possible and as soon as the fox was in the viewfinder pressed the shutter release twice, then a third time before the fox turned away and melted into the vegetation. The image of the fox with a rabbit dangling from its jaws looking hopefully towards the warren stayed in his mind, hope I got it like that he muttered. The grass between the copse and the pond was empty now, and would remain so for the next half hour until the rabbits worked up enough courage or hunger to venture out again. James classed rabbits as nature's most chaseable animal; they seemed destined to be pursued throughout time by almost every carnivore and omnivore in existence, rabbits were just too tempting a target. The water hens in the rushes along the pond margin were still calling occasional protest of alarm at the disturbance but they slowly settled down to the occasional shout, which was their normal morning noise level. The suns glow was just touching the horizon, movement and a glimpse of white silhouetted by russet appeared and vanished, James moved the lens along the edge of the pond to a short patch and waited with the shutter release poised to activate. Got you! I hope! The stoat was stood up on his hind legs peering intently towards the warren, it stood just long enough for one chance then bounced and zigzagged towards the furthest edge or the copse. No doubt it had followed the rabbits scream in the hope of an easy meal. Too late! Foxy beat you this morning, but I doubt you'll starve, your kind are too good at the hunt to go hungry for long. Stop muttering and concentrate, he reprimanded himself. Then following his own advice he started to scan the taller vegetation with care.

The first red and yellow glow was showing on the horizon and casting long shadows from the few remaining fence posts, two water hens had climbed from the pond and were picking quietly along the edge of the wet margin, never straying far from the safety of the water. James had always thought them under appreciated birds, caught in the glare of the early morning light their dark plumage showed a green sheen, which set off the yellow and red skin above the bill to an attractive contrast. He froze stopped motionless, he had no idea why. He had seen nothing, heard nothing but something had alerted him. He concentrated on his hearing; there had been no pause in the dawn chorus, no alarm from the rabbits, which were now nervously grazing their way out onto the short grass again. There had been nothing to alert his senses, but they were alert all the same. Taking care to keep his movements slow and even he swung the camera round to his left, in the shadows on the edge of the trees stood a roe doe, poised motionless with her ears pricked forewords, listening and looking intently onto the area between the pond and the copse. The first picture caught the doe in that pose, it wasn't a great shot but James had discovered the hard way that it was best to take every chance. He took another three then waited for her to move. Daintily, one foot at a time, the doe advanced onto the rabbit grazed area. Her cautious dainty steps made her look as if she was walking on eggshells; she stopped again and gazed round blinking slightly as she looked towards the sunrise. She looked back over her shoulder, turned and walked back to where she had come from, lowered her head to the edge of the vegetation took a bite of grass then turned and walked back towards the edge of the pond. James looked back to where she had been in time to see a fawn appear cautiously at first; then with confidence it walked over towards the doe, it paused to look back as a second fawn emerged to follow closely in the tracks of the first. As soon as the initial spell was broken James started taking shots. The light was good now and the early morning sun seemed to set the animals aglow. The rabbits were out again but paid the deer little attention after the first scrutiny and continued eating and moving in their usual restless, nervous, grazing style. The anticlimax caught James unawares, there were only two, he was sure he caught a glimpse of a third, but it seemed not to be. But the two fawns were the most photogenic creatures he had ever seen through a camera lens. Both moved to the side of their mother one tried to suckle but the doe walked on, looked over her shoulder again at the place where the two fawns had emerged from and gave a soft bark. The rabbits nearest the copse bolted back to the wood without looking back, the ones further out reached the warren edge and stopped sitting upright near the safety of the bolt holes staring out over the small patch of ground, looking for the danger. The grass where the fawns had emerged moved slightly, and a third, red brown, young deer emerged. There you are, been adventuring have you? Shut up and start taking pics again, he advised himself quietly. The feeling of elation swept over him making his hair stand on end. The third fawn walked directly to the doe and started to suckle, she was content now and the other two started to jostle for position, one would have to wait, there wasn't room. The third fawn was displaced and seemed disinclined to rejoin the struggle to reclaim its position and started to explore its surroundings. The doe walked on again, displacing the other two, she seemed in reasonable condition considering she was raising three young, and doing it successfully. These lowland deer had the best of grazing, though they seemed to prefer hedge sides to the lush growing crops. The other two fawns started to explore their surroundings, but none of them moved far from the doe. James had been concentrating on working the camera, taking shots as fast as possible. The great advantage of the digital camera was that he didn't have to pay to develop photos that weren't good enough he could just delete them. He was sure he had several good shots of the whole family and started to concentrate on the individual animals. The doe started to graze; in an unhurried way she looked relaxed and content. One of the fawns had noticed the rabbits and was approaching the middle of the ground between the pond and copse where the nearest rabbit was grazing. Its ears were pricked forwards as it approached the rabbit. It was looking to James's right and towards the corner of the copse. The early morning sunshine appeared to cast a halo around the fawn; it seemed clothed in sunlight as it approached. The rabbit and fawn were just in the viewfinder together when James got the first shot. When will you run bunny, I know you will. he thought, smiling at the view through the lens. The rabbit went from grazing to bolt upright so fast that there seemed no movement in between, it thumped its hind feet, turned and fled, clearing the area of rabbits with its alarm as it ran. The startled young deer froze in its tracks its alarm and confusion made a comical shot. James felt the hair on his scalp and arms raise, a cold shiver ran through him. Someone walked over my grave. The air behind the fawn looked to shimmer and turn slightly misty, though the fast rising sun bathed the scene with early morning sunlight. From slightly shimmering, misty air, behind and above the young deer something flew or was flung. It hit the fawn on the shoulders, wrapped around its neck and both the fawn and the object went down on the grass. In less than a second the fawn lay kicking its last on the grass. The doe let out a sharp warning bark and bolted with the last two fawns in her wake. James blinked, shook his head, what the hell was, no, what is that he found he was no longer looking through the lens, in his shock he had looked up. A professional wouldn't look up, get your head down and find out what that was, is, and get the pictures. He got his eye to the viewfinder and the swivelled the camera down to centre the scene on the grass in front of him. James started pressing the shutter release though all he could see through the lens was a lump of what looked like fur wrapped around the neck and shoulders of the still form of the young deer. He still couldn't make it out, the grey fur moved, it seemed to unwind and relax, a head resolved itself from near the neck of the dead deer, on some instinct it turned towards where James was concealed. He found himself looking directly into a pair of slit feline eyes set in a roughly triangular furry face topped off with two tufted ears. He remembered to breath again and pressed the shutter release, lynx! The cat stood up licked its lips bent its head to the carcass gripped the neck and lifted, straddling the carcass between its front legs it walked about six short steps towards the pond and stepped into nothing and vanished! In the middle of the rabbit mown grass with nothing in it that a mouse could hide behind, right in front of James it just walked into nowhere and disappeared with its kill. James found he was stood up in the hide looking over the top and shaking like a leaf. What the.....? A lynx.....? Impossible! He was out of the hide and on the spot before he knew it, he didn't even think that there might be any danger from the cat. There was nothing to see, nowhere it could have gone, he was starting to disbelieve what he thought he had seen he looked down, there was blood on the grass, he knelt down and put his fingers to the blood, it was wet and fresh. He stood up, walked to the edge of the pond turned and looked towards his hide, nothing to see that would explain it. Did I imagine that? He scrambled back to the hide, provoking a blackbird to scream a warning as he went; detached the camera switched on the LCD screen and went straight to his last shot. For the third time that day his hair stood on end. There it was, a lynx holding a young roe deer by the throat while straddling the body, this was Yorkshire, not Canada! In the previous shot the cat was crystal clear, crouched over its kill looking directly into the lens. Where the hell did you come from? Where did you go and more to the point how did you go? Now with the proof that he wasn't dreaming he started out of the hide and onto the rabbit shortened grass where the cat disappeared. This was not possible, a lynx and its kill didn't just disappear, come to that they didn't appear in rural Yorkshire either, so where the hell had it come from? He walked over the site again, the early morning sun warming him as he searched. Still he only found the drying blood there was no evidence to show the whole story, not even a footprint. He went back to the hide, checked the camera again still doubting his own eyes. The catches on the camera bag seemed unusually stiff, then he became aware of his hands, they were shaking badly, too much adrenaline I expect.

Once he had identified the problem the packing went easier and he found himself crossing the barbed wire fence and not remembering anything of the walk to get there. This time he managed to snag the crotch of his trousers on the fence, but freed himself without ripping either his trousers or his skin. The cattle gazed at him with the usual dull bovine curiosity as he crossed the field and set off down the track, it was a much quicker journey than the first, he was unlocking the van before he knew it his mind still replaying the strange events he had witnessed, or thought he had!

Chapter 2

James was surprised to find himself pulling back into the yard; the drive had passed in the blink of an eye. It was still not six in the morning; neither of his parents would be up for another three quarters of an hour. He went straight upstairs and turned his computer on; while he waited for the computer to boot up he unpacked the camera and found the connection cable. James, his hands still shaking, connected the camera to the computer via a front USB port, started the camera and scanner wizard, he selected all the pictures and uploaded them to the hard drive.

He checked the photos then put a blank CD into the drive and wrote them to the CD. He had once lost several hours work by not making backups so he now did this as routine with new work. He also opened the files from the CD to ensure they had written correctly, once he was happy they were written correctly he removed the CD dated it and titled it Yorkshire Lynx put it back in the cover and filed it with the rest of his photo's. Then, satisfied that the photos were safe or as safe as reasonably possible, he cleared the cameras memory for next use. While he hadn't a lot of experience with this camera he had used Jane's camera when they had been on holiday the previous year, and found the memory full message frustrating, he missed several good snaps of dolphins while he deleted unwanted pictures to make room. He wasn't going to be caught like that with his camera!

Satisfied that the risk of loosing the potentially valuable pictures was as small as sensibly possible he opened the picture of the lynx looking directly at the camera. The cat and the dead deer were crystal clear, perfect, but the background slightly to the left of the subjects looked strange, as if there was another image faintly overlaying part of the scene. If this was his old SLR and a photo had returned from development like this he would have thought them double exposed. He checked the photo of the stoat, the fox and several of the rabbits; even the ones taken at first light, all were OK. He opened the other photos of the lynx, there were four good ones in total and all had the blurred background. While he was disappointed he wasn't too worried he could clean up the background given a little time, the main subjects in all four were clear. Delighted with the screen image he printed all four to