Night-time Comes to the Old Hall – a short story by Jefny Ashcroft

The clock has just chimed nine and out here in the countryside I am all alone. But I feel safe enough. It’s July. There’s still light for me to look out and see the sheep, the neat hedges, and, nearer the house, our knot-garden. But no people. Every other soul in our household is out enjoying themselves – many miles away – at the fair.