Time seemed to stand still;
everything had gone quiet save the sound of the leaves rustling as the trees
shook in turn, and we looked at each other, then back at the garden, and out to
Simon Andrews. I lifted my head, half expecting to feel a sudden breeze, but
there was none, and yet still the bushes were shaking, long tendrils of the
largest and longest plants and weeds lifting and falling and all the time like
a botanical Mexican wave headed in the direction of the unpleasant man who had
come to verbally attack me. He could see it too, and retreated even more
quickly than before, not sure what was going on. He looked in surprise.
‘I don’t want my children playing here, is
that clear?’ he cried out.
‘Keep
them away then!’ said Chloe, shouting now as the man retreated.’ Bloody cheek’
she added, for good measure. As he
turned to leave, the foliage on the ground seemed to reach up, wrapping
themselves around his legs and down he went again. He swore furiously, stood up
and returned to his car, driving off in noisy haste.
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