Chapter 13: Elliot - The Foster Child

‘You look tired,’ Katrina says, looking up from the computer in reception, when I arrive at the dental surgery.

‘I had a bit of a disturbed night,’ I tell her. Which is an understatement. I barely slept thinking about that Christmas card. I couldn’t make sense of it.

‘We’re busy this morning but the afternoon is light, so if you need to leave early it’s fine,’ she says.

‘I might take you up on that. Thanks.’ I’d like to get home before Cora. I want to check the post box and make sure another card hasn’t been delivered. I’m pretty sure there are going to be more. The message doesn’t make sense.

This will be your last Christmas

Is it meant for me or Cora? Either way, I haven’t mentioned it to Cora yet. I don’t want to worry her. I’m hoping that it’s some kind of sick prank and it’ll end there.

I push it out of my mind. I need to focus on my work.

It’s pretty full-on until lunchtime. Katrina has her break first then I go down for mine. Kelly, the receptionist, calls me. ‘Elliot, someone’s sent you a Christmas card. Talk about an early bird.’ She hands me a white envelope.

It’s square-shaped, like the envelope I found in my post box on Friday, but this one is clearly addressed to me at the dental surgery.

I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I take it into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and open it as the kettle is boiling. My hand starts to shake when I see that it’s the same picture of a Christmas wreath that was on the card I received at the weekend. So, the cards are meant for me then. And whoever sent them knows where I work. My throat tightens as I open it up. Inside is written:

ONLY THREE WEEKS TO LIVE.

I’m troubled by the second Christmas card all day and Katrina obviously notices because she tells me to leave early, she will deal with the last couple of clients.

I arrive home to find the floodlight shining on Cora on her knees tidying up the front garden. It looks like most of the plants have been dug up. I get out of my car and walk over to her, puzzled.

‘Cora? What on earth’s happened?’

She looks up, pushing her hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. There’s dirt on her nose and now on her forehead. ‘I came home to find the gate open and most of the plants dug up.’

‘What?’ I’m stunned. ‘Why? Who would do that?’

‘There’s dog footprints on the patio and look what I found.’ She shows me a plastic container with a pile of dark lumps in it.

‘What are they?’ I squat down to get a better look.

‘Dog biscuits.’ Her eyes are troubled as they meet mine. ‘I found them buried in the garden. Under some of the plants that had been dug up or trampled on.’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘Nope. I think someone buried the dog treats and let their dog into our garden so it would dig up the plants.’

‘How did you find them?’ I ask. ‘Was it when you replanted the bulbs?’

‘One of them yes, the first one. I felt something hard under my fingers and pulled it out the ground. I couldn’t believe it when I saw what it was. Then I checked the other dug-up plants and some of them had dog biscuits biscuit buried under them too.’ She looks at me earnestly. ‘Someone planted them on purpose, Elliot, then let their dog loose to find them.’

I’m not sure how to handle this. I can’t believe that Cora has come out with such a far-fetched theory. ‘Don’t you think that it’s more likely that the people who owned the house before me had a dog and had maybe dropped a bag of biscuits and they’d got buried into the ground?’

‘It’s possible, but they’ll have to have been there for years. And why didn’t you find them when you were digging over the garden when you moved in?’ she asks.

‘Maybe I did but I didn’t notice. It sounds like you were actually prodding in the soil looking for them.’ I pause. ‘I think that you feel so bad about leaving the gate open resulting in the dog getting in and destroying the plants that you’re looking…’

‘For what? To blame it on someone else?’ Her gaze levels with mine. ‘I did not leave the gate open, Elliot. Absolutely not. Someone opened it. Someone let a dog in. I don’t know who. Or why. But that is what happened.’ She bites her lip, her eyes still fixed on my face. ‘It looks like one of us has an enemy in the village.’

I look around at the trampled plants and think of the two Christmas cards I’ve received and my stomach churns.