He put the leaves into his mouth and waited, eyes closed, still holding his father’s notebook against his chest. The city sounds outside were loud at first—tyres on wet tarmac and distant sirens—then they faded. In their place came the voices of birds and insects, crying, singing, droning, warning in their unintelligible languages. Something was out there: a ripple on the surface of the air, a little vibration under his feet, a voice from somewhere far distant. Somebody on the other side of that rope bridge was calling him, whispering answers into the breeze.
He was still too far away to hear them. He turned away from the bridge and Tomas was standing on the bank, waiting for him.
‘Some day you’ll get there,’ Tomas said. ‘But not yet.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My most heartfelt thanks go to Stella Hervey Birrell, beta-reader and critical friend par excellence, and to Kelly Lacey, whose support and enthusiasm for this story was a lifeline when I needed it. Thank you also to Amanda Horan at letsgetbooked.com, for her excellent editing and design work. As ever, I owe an ongoing debt of gratitude to my family and friends for encouraging me to keep writing. All my love goes to Craig, Jamie and Susanna; I know it’s not always easy to live with a writer. Susanna, you deserve special mention for showing me the magical proofreading power of Microsoft Word’s Read Aloud tool. Thank you.
Siren Song (Harrison Jones and Amy Bell Mystery Book 1) Page 27