Nicola Jane hated the countryside. When she complained, all Mum said was that she'd get used to it, but here she was a year later and she hated it every bit as much as when they'd arrived. She was lying on her belly in her tree-house, on a folded blanket to soften the hard boards and protect her from splinters. Nicola Jane peered through the knot-hole in the floor and wished she was back in the city.

Mum had been in a hurry to move and they'd arrived here only a couple of weeks after the death of Dad, but the selfish cow hadn't thought of Nicola Jane for one minute and how moving away from all her friends would only deepen the sense of loss and increase the emptiness she felt. How she longed to hang around the city shopping centre on a Saturday again with her old school friends.

The new school was hopeless and absolutely miles away. Nicola Jane had to get up extra early to catch the bus, which took nearly an hour to travel round all the villages, collecting kids who looked at her like she'd arrived on a spaceship from Mars.

The bus ride made her feel like a complete outsider and she invariably used the time in the morning to do the homework she hadn't touched the previous evening. Nicola Jane didn't care that her handwriting was an untidy scrawl from the rocking of the bus or that her essays were guesswork instead of properly researched. If Mum didn't care about her, why should she care about school?

Which was why today found her in the tree-house instead of sitting in double maths next to smelly Mandy Winterbotham. Honestly! Hadn't the girl heard of soap and water? Perhaps she lived on a farm and her mum made her sleep with the pigs or the goats. Which wasn't such a weird idea, considering the way Mandy ate her school lunch.

Nicola Jane had mixed feelings about the tree-house. Uncle Jim had built it almost as soon as she and Mum had moved in. Uncle Jim was Dad's brother and he wasn't very good with the sympathy type stuff and so had built the tree-house as a way of bypassing his sorrow, guilt, rage and any thoughts of comforting others. Nicola Jane saw the tree-house as a conspiracy between Mum and Uncle Jim to countrify her ' like the long walks and Girl Guides Mum had insisted on during the first few weeks. However, it didn't take Nicola Jane long to realise the benefits of having a place she could escape Mum's misery and later as a place to hide when skiving off school.

It was the third week in June ' almost half the year had gone by, but so slowly Nicola Jane was sure that half a century had passed. The weather had been uncomfortably hot for nearly a week, which made hanging out in the tree-house quite pleasant ' shaded from the sun by the overhead canopy of foliage and cooled by the breeze that followed the stream at the bottom of the garden.

Nicola Jane turned over onto her back and sighed. She had another hour to wait before she could sneak out the back of the garden, along the bank of the stream and around the group of houses that made up their side of the village ' if such a small collection of dwellings could be given such a grand title. Then she'd burst into the house and make out she'd had a dreadful day at school. Mum never cared ' shortly after they arrived here she'd taken to drinking heavily ' but Nicola Jane liked to keep up her side of the pretence.

Suddenly she heard a noise from below and quickly rolled onto her stomach to peer once more through the knot-hole in the planking. There it was again ' each day this week she'd seen movement at the base of the tree, but whatever stirred down there was too fast for her to make out clearly. She quietly got to her feet, grabbed the makeshift spear she'd created earlier ' school compasses taped to the end of a cane from the garden ' and silently descended the ladder.

A big part of what she hated about the country was the wildlife. Mice and shrews and pheasants and frogs and bees and spiders! Ugh! Spiders as big as her hand that made her almost vomit they scared her so much ' spiders were never so big when they lived in the city.

Whatever crept, hopped or flitted around her tree she was going to get rid of it. No matter that she hated the tree-house and what it represented, it was still hers. Her territory to protect.

She came off the ladder and onto the soft grass around the tree, dappled with mid-afternoon sunlight breaking through the leafy canopy above. Nicola Jane dropped into a ready crouch, her spear held high, ready to pounce the moment she saw the trespasser. If she was forced to live in the middle of nowhere, then it had to be on her terms.

Nicola Jane moved purposefully around the wide base of the tree, trying to catch sight of whatever it was she'd glimpsed from above a few moments before. She cast glances at the other shrubs and small trees that marked the garden's rear boundary along the bank of the stream. There was now no breeze and the stillness was eerie, like time had frozen, but Nicola Jane had set out on a course of action that could only ever be concluded in one way.

The tension of the hunt sent a thrill through her body ' she was invigorated like she used to be when playing the sports she once loved so much. Her heart beat like a primal drum and she firmed her grip on the spear as she continued around the tree.

Then she saw it. A sharp movement from the corner of her eye and almost instinctively she turned and threw the spear much like she'd been taught to throw the javelin. The point of the compasses impaled the unidentified creature and pinned it to the ground, its death swift.

Her prey was now still, but the uneven light prevented Nicola Jane from making out exactly what it was she'd killed. She moved closer to see better her trophy and when her eyes at last recognised the shape she shrank away in horror.

---

Mum awoke swiftly; aroused by terrified screams she instantly recognised as belonging to her daughter. Still groggy from the couple of gins she'd had after lunch, she nonetheless rushed, stumbling, into the garden and towards the source of the screaming.

Nicola Jane pointed at the spear and Mum pulled it from the ground. She stared at the creature impaled on the point of the compasses and her jaw dropped ' the sight of this creature last year had triggered her drinking, but she hadn't been seeing things after all.

There had been a fairy living at the bottom of the garden! But a fairy with her dead husband's face? No wonder Nicola Jane had reacted so hysterically.

The screams stopped dead and Nicola Jane ' her eyes wide and wild ' yelled at her mother.

'I killed Dad, too!'�

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