The smell of chicken boiled with sweet peppers and chili drifted out into the dusk. My sister was weaving her doll’s hair into ridiculous styles; my father was reading the weekly newspaper and drinking beer. I played the afternoon’s game over in my head while I watched a fat full moon rise over the trees. From the forest, frogs were calling, trilling like a thousand distant telephones. We all looked up when we heard the sound of a car; traffic on the road was unusual at this time. We saw the lights as they passed the end of our track; then the brake lights flared and the engine paused. We heard the vehicle reversing, turning. The pepper tree and the corner of the house were bathed in light for a moment and then returned to darkness. The scrunch of tires on gravel. Doors slamming. My father got up and walked around the corner of the house to investigate. Almost at once he reappeared. He was holding his hands out in front of him, and they were making frantic little ‘Get up!’ gestures.
