Francesca

SOLSTICE

THE WAY THE BIRDS ARE staring at me with their gleaming black eyes. The malevolence. The knowing. As though they can see into my very soul. I think of that shape I saw in the stone basin and I think of Grandfa's ranting at the end and I put a hand up to my stinging cheek and see blood on my fingertips. I feel dread seeping through me.

Then I spot Ruby, the receptionist, scooping something up from the ground and letting it trickle back through her fingers. I look down at the grass, look properly this time where before I had only been able to see the birds and the mist of my own fear, and I see the seed scattered there. My horror converts instantly to rage.

Someone is trying to sabotage me and everything I've created. It's Sparrow, I'm sure of it.

"Michelle," I gasp at Ruby. "Go and find me Michelle. Now."

A few minutes later she appears, looking irritatingly pristine in her white shirt, not a badly highlighted hair out of place. "Francesca," she says solicitously, giving me a swift look up and down. "Are you... feeling all right?" She points to my brow. "You've, ah, got a little something just there."

"The birds," I hiss. "I need them gone, now."

"Of course," she says. "As you can see the staff are doing their best—"

I look at her smug, common little face. How could he? Ugh. Another wave of rage courses through me.

"For God's sake you stupid bitch!" I shout. "It's not good enough. I need every member of staff here. I need every single fucking bird gone. Can I not trust anyone in this bloody place to do their job properly?"

There's a stunned silence. I feel the staff watching me. I have the odd sensation I am watching, too, hovering above myself. Gradually the mist begins to clear. This is not Francesca Meadows. Francesca Meadows never speaks like that—not even inside her own head. It's like Francesca lost her grip and someone else briefly took over the controls.

I take a very long breath in. A very long breath out.

"Goodness!" I say, brightly. "I think I need to take a time-out. Ha ha! All the pressure of the day is getting to me. It's nothing to do with you, Michelle!" I don't actually apologize, because someone once told me that to do so is an admission of guilt and putting yourself in that position is dangerous. I feel shaky, drained.

"Leave it with me, Francesca," Michelle says, calmly. "It will be done."

Goodness, she's so efficient. I almost wish I could keep her.