Uncle Timothy’s eyes released me.
They’d crawled over every inch of
my skin like horrible spiders. Uncle
was telling Mrs Eames how he was
staying at a boutique hotel in town.
He’d very much like the opportunity
to meet William and I in more intimate
surroundings. It sounded entirely creepy.
Mrs Eames, however, smiled and was
obliging, suggesting we all gather the
next day. William had sauntered up to
us now. Uncle Timothy introduced
himself in his slimy effete voice, and
squeezed my brother’s hand weakly.
William appeared mildly disgusted.
I could have sworn that Uncle flicked
his red tongue over his lower lip. I knew
danger now. I knew that we were in peril.