Neville the Less

  * * *

  From the windows of their darkened kitchen, Mister and Missus Hughes had watched as the majority of houselights in the neighbourhood went out. A strangely early night all ‘round, they’d agreed. And then they made tea and sat in the gloom to drink it, talking quietly of the tests and trials the Lord was wont to provide. After a while they peeped, via torchlight, in at Cookie and Robert. Cookie and Robert were two of the pretenders, trembling wakefully under their blankets. Cookie was clutching the bag with the gun and the medal, straining his ears to hear above Robert’s exaggerated snoring. Though, with Robert’s sinuses, who could really tell?

  Mister and Missus thought they could, and believing both their boys to be in dreamland, they went into the yard to casually, as though it were broad light of day rather than deepy dark of night, make their way down to the vine-laden fence that separated their home from Boogerville.