Read The Third Day, The Frost for Free Online Page B

the floor of her
parents’ beautiful drawing room.
    ‘Sorry Fi,’ I said, grinning.
    We left the blood for the flies. Homer
shouldered the carcass and led the way back to the farmhouses. The
tension was killing me. It’s much worse when it’s your own plan;
the responsibility is too much, too much. I resolved that I’d never
suggest anything again, knowing even as I made the resolution that
I wouldn’t be able to keep it. I talked to Robyn as we walked along
though, and that was interesting. She had this great religious
theory about how the sheep was a sacrificial lamb, sacrificed to
save Kevin’s life. I didn’t know about that.
    Once we were in sight of the farmhouse we had
to take a lot of care. It was no easy matter for Homer to carry the
sheep all the way to the well. Lee went to a tree which gave him a
good view of the main homestead and he waved to us when it was all
clear. It took twenty minutes before he signalled, which meant time
was starting to get tight. It was 4.25 already. Flies were driving
Homer crazy. It’s amazing how quickly they sniff out the bleeding
and the dead, even in winter. But at last, with a short rush, he
was able to hoist the carcass and take it to the well. Robyn and I
got the top open and Homer, with a sigh of relief, tossed it in,
head first, so it would fall all the way. We slammed the top shut
again and raced back to shelter. From now on we were reduced to
being an audience.
    At 5.19 the men returned. They all went
straight into their quarters: apparently this was not a bath night.
Was it my imagination or did they look nervous? Wasn’t Kevin
walking kind of stiffly, grimly? I could hardly breathe. My chest
felt tight. But nothing happened till 5.35. Then Kevin began his
run for the Academy Award.
    First he sauntered out past the
galvanised-iron shed and had a bit of a poke around it, as though
he’d never seen a galvanised-iron shed before. He looked at the
corner post nearest us – and nearest the sentry – then checked the
guttering. The sentry called out, obviously asking what he was
doing, and Kevin muttered something before dawdling away. He was
meant to look like a bored teenager who was going to get into
trouble, but he seemed a bit self-conscious about it to me.
    After that we lost sight of him for ten
minutes, but we knew what was meant to happen. Kevin would wander
over to the well, force the cover open, and take a look down it.
The crumbling stonework would give way, and Kevin would fall to his
death. Either the fall or the fumes would kill him; it didn’t
matter to us, as long as he was definitely dead. We waited
nervously.
    Sure enough after five minutes came a sharp
cry. It only lasted the briefest moment, seemingly cut off in
mid-voice, but it was unusual enough to catch the attention of the
sentry. He stood more alertly and turned in the direction of the
cry, then did a full circle and looked carefully all around him. He
was no fool. In the ‘How to Invade Other Countries’ textbook he’d
obviously read the section on ‘Decoys’ twice. But a few seconds
later a man, one of the prisoners, came running out past the shed
and called desperately to the sentry. Without even looking to see
if the sentry was following, he ran straight back again. It was
nicely done, and seemed to finally convince the soldier. He only
hesitated a moment, then quickly followed the prisoner.
    We waited in a state of high tension. We could
hear a lot of shouting and we caught glimpses of people running to
and fro. It lasted about thirty minutes, then seemed to calm down a
bit. But it was more than an hour before the sentry came back and
took up his position again. And that was the end of the night’s
excitement. Everything went very quiet and stayed that way. We
presumed it had worked, but we didn’t know. It was another great
night for insomniacs.
    Next morning the work parties were late to
leave. When they did go they looked subdued and dejected. There was
no sign of Kevin, of