Chapter Twenty-EightI saw Patrick before he saw us. He stood outlined by the fire, with one hand on the gun at his side and the other clenched into a fist. His anger was all the more frightening because it was so unlike him.
Matilda stepped on a dry twig and he spun around to face us.
‘Who’s there?’ he shouted. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s us, Patrick, calm down,’ said Matilda.
He ran up to us and grabbed both of my wrists, holding them uncomfortably tight as he stared at my face. ‘Who did that to you? I’ll kill them myself, and have their corpses drawn and quartered!’
‘He’s dead,’ I said.
‘Good!’
I yanked my hands from his grip and slapped him hard across the cheek. ‘He was my father! And he didn’t do anything wrong!’
Matilda took a step back.
Patrick shook his head fiercely and rea
