Read Dreamwalkers Book One - The Intruder. A Markland Garraway Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 23

  Chapter 22

 

  Markland Garraway’s Home

  Bristol

  14th October

  12.15 p.m.

 

  Markland held a cup of coffee and looked out of the kitchen window watching his wife, Joan, rake the lawn.

  He’d retired from the Avon and Somerset Constabulary at the end of the previous week. His new life would take some getting used to. He had no master plan, other than a few nice holidays booked for the following year. The main thing he wanted to do was to make up for lost time with his wife. The job of a detective meant he’d spent little time with her, and had missed out a lot with his daughters when they were little girls. After he’d been promoted to Detective Superintendent, he was spending even less time at home. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake with his grandchildren. Now he was retired, they could sleep over for the night, allowing both his daughter’s some quality time with their husbands, and more importantly allow himself and Joan time with their grandkids.

  He placed the empty coffee mug in the sink, walked to the back door and put on his Wellington boots.

  It was a crisp October morning and although it was just past midday, the sun was already making its way lower to the west.

  “Do you need a hand?” called Markland.

  “You can pick those leaves up and drop them over there,” replied Joan, leaning on the handle of the rake.”

  Markland watched a little condensation huff from her mouth as she spoke. He smiled, bent forwards and scooped the leaves.

  Joan was fanatical about gardening. The summer had proved just how talented she was. One weekend in July, she’d opened her garden and had over five hundred visitors. The Bristol Post had featured it as one of the top twenty gardens in Bristol. Markland had missed it all, he’d been working the entire weekend.

  “You’ve not given much thought to retirement have you?” asked Joan.

  Markland picked damp leaves from his hands and considered his answer.

  “No, I haven’t. Although, I would like to play cricket again, if anyone would have me.”

  “Well that won’t happen until next year, what are you going to do between now and then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was working up to the very last hour last week, and you’re right, I’ve not given retirement an awful lot of thought. I think I’ll spend the next couple of months acclimatising to things.”

  “As long as you don’t get under my feet. I’ve been used to having the house virtually to myself since I can remember,” laughed Joan, raking the next load of leaves.

  “I’m looking forward to Jessica staying over this weekend. It’ll be great spending time with her.”

  “I doubt if she’ll know who you are, you’ve always been working when the grandkids are here.”

  Markland strolled over from the compost pile, took the rake from his wife’s hand and held her close.

  “Well, now she’ll have time to find out who her granddad is, she’s only three after all.”

  “No, she’s two, it’s Lauren whose three.”

  Markland put his finger over Joan’s lips to shush her and then kissed her.

 

  They sat on the garden bench and Joan shivered as a chilly breeze rattled the trees. They looked to the sky and watched rain laden clouds bully their way in from the east.

  “Well that’s put an end to my gardening plans,” said Joan, as raindrops fell.

  “You’re not going to let a little rain stop you?”

  Before Joan opened her mouth to answer, the drops turned into a full on rainstorm. They giggled like school kids and ran from the bench towards the house. Both battled to get in through the backdoor at the same time. Joan made it to the dry of the kitchen before Markland.

  “I’ve missed you,” said Markland, wiping away the rain from Joan’s brow.

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make us one of my legendary cheese and ham omelettes,” said Joan.

  “No you won’t. Dry yourself off, get changed and I’ll take us to The Ship for a spot of lunch.”

  “You’re on,” replied Joan, making her way upstairs.

  I think I’m going to enjoy this retirement lark, thought Markland, struggling to take off his Wellington boots.

  Joan sighed, as she climbed the stairs. She had spent so much time in the house on her own, she found it difficult to adapt to having her husband at home all the time.