The Dark Walk

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The Dark Walk One of the first places Julia always ran to when they arrived in G- was The Dark Walk. It is a laurel walk, very cold; almost gone wild; a lofty midnight tunnel of smooth, sinewy branches. Underfoot the tough brown on her so that she screamed with pleasure and raced on to reach the light at the far end; and it was always just a little too long in coming so that she emerged gasping, clasping her hands, laughing, drinking in the sun. When she was filled with the heat and glare she would turn and consider the ordeal again. This year she had the extra joy of showing it to her small brother, and of terrifying him as well as herself. And for him the fear lasted longer because his legs were shorter and she had gone out at the far end and while he was still screaming and racing. When they had done this many times they came back to the house to tell everybody that they had done it. He boasted. She mocked. They squabbled. 'Cry babby.' 'You were afraid yourself, so there!' 'I won't take you any more.' 'You are bit pig.' 'I hate you,' Tears were threatening, so somebody said, 'Did you see the wall?' She opened her eyes at that held up her long lovely neck suspiciously and decided to be incredulous. She was twelve and at that age little girls are beginning to suspect most stories: they already found out too many, from Santa Claus to the stork.

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