As the year drew on, and summer approached, we began to look forward to the good weather. Well, better weather. In the summer Douitchurch is plagued with less rain, although the thermometer does not rise much above ten degress on the average day.
I spent my days emptying my head of all evil thoughts, and all good thoughts for that matter, and drawing whatever was in front of me. By the end of June I had captured most of my house down on paper once at least.
School finished at the end of July, and my year had a big party out on the field. I wasn't invited, so I didn't go. When school ends it is not a time to rejoice. It means that there is nothing to set one's mind on until work starts again in September. It means that another year has gone by and one has not done anything profitable. It means that one is still wasting his life brooding about a murder that happened nearly six years ago, and there's nothing one feels inclined to do about it. By 'one', as you may have gathered, I mean me.
But then in August something else came about. I was not present at the actual happening of it. But I know someone who was. So I tell her tale as she told it to me in my room a few days after it happened. I must confess it is one of the biggest surprises to me what a sleuth she is. Indeed, I am still unsure as to how and why she came to be there. I believe that someone warned her. Of something. Someone...