Ghost Boy

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Book excerpt

Chapter One

In the beginning the world was full of dark magic. As the centuries passed, we covered it with a rational surface that we called ordinary life. But there were still some ancient places, we might call them 'backwaters', where you could scratch this surface, inadvertently perhaps, enabling the world of dark magic to break through… 

* * *

Broken clouds scudded like battle smoke across the moon. Bushes, strange shaggy beings in the moonlight, surrounded the waters of a pond, that lay like a sleeper, breathing imperceptibly, in the stillness of the field.

As though at a secret signal the nightwind awoke, to make the bushes writhe in their hidden chains. The surface of the pond rippled and dimpled as the wind played over it, stirring its depths to life.

The indistinct figure of a man appeared in the fractured moonlight. Carrying a rifle, the man approached the pond. He stared at the water, watching the surface bubble and churn, not understanding that his familiar world was changing…

The wind hid among the moon-cast shadows of the field. The pond once again became passive, like an innocent mirror. The man lay prone, the rifle fallen from his hands.

* * *

"You can't leave! You know there's no key till my husband arrives!"

"Sorry, lady. But we've done our job. We've delivered the furniture to your property."

"It's not our problem if you have no key."

The two removal men, in their mid-twenties and almost two metres tall, stared down at thirty-five-year-old Alice Harding's trim auburn-haired figure implacably. She felt like leaping on to the nearby coffee table, to make herself the same height.

"My son's only seven. He's exhausted. You can't leave us out here in the dark!" She gestured to where her son Toby slept, curled up in an armchair by the front door.

"Just ring your husband."

"How can I? You saw me trying. You know there's no signal here."

One of the men looked at his watch. "We've a storage unit pick-up. The warehouse closes at ten. It's an hour's drive from here."

"One of our other crews has to take it up to Scotland overnight."

"So you see our difficulty."

They made to climb into their cab.

"Please! It's inhuman! When my husband hears about this he'll sue!"

"He's welcome to try."

"But we don't think he'd want to waste his time."

Alice watched the truck's tail lights disappearing down the lane, then flopped helplessly into a second armchair. After a moment she leaped up again and hunted among the piled-up boxes by the light of her handbag torch. At last she found the right box, tore off the adhesive tape and pulled out a double duvet. She made a nest with the duvet in her armchair and carried Toby carefully over. Then she sat down with the sleeping Toby on her lap and the duvet pulled snugly around them. There. They would be okay. Unless it started to rain. She ran her fingers gently through Toby's curly brown hair. The action brought her a few moments of quiet comfort.

She tried not to let the situation unsettle her. But it was almost eight o'clock and getting colder, she could feel the chill creeping up her calves, which stuck out below the duvet into the evening air. How cold could it get in the countryside in mid-October? She was used to suburban streetlights and the comings and goings of neighbours. Here there was nothing: darkness so impenetrable she could barely make out the TO LET sign that leaned despairingly in the hedge a few metres away, silence as absolute as death.

It seemed like hours since the removal men had left. However, when she checked her watch, she found only fifteen minutes had dragged by. She was sorry she lost her temper with them. They were conscientious types and had been very careful with the computer and all the other electrical stuff. She seemed always to be losing her temper these days. But the way life had treated her it was hardly surprising.

Again, she tried to raise Will on her mobile, but the message no network coverage came up on the screen as before. "Damn!"

She hadn't meant to give voice to the word but it was too late. Toby stirred on her lap and muttered, but to her relief he settled again and did not wake. She squirmed deeper into the armchair and pulled the duvet more tightly around them. Please weather gods, have pity. Don't let it rain.

A gust of wind whipped across the garden. She could hear unseen bushes rustling and chafing tree branches creaking – an invisible world coming to life around her. The year's fallen leaves swirled into renewed animation and made whispers, tiny fragments of laughter, as they skittered up the garden path.

Another gust and CRASH! Squeak – CRASH! Squeak – CRASH! "Who's there?" Fear she had no time to hide was in her voice. "Who's out there?"

As the waxing moon broke free from a ragged edge of cloud, Alice could see the front garden gate, latchless and swinging: squeak – crash…squeak – crash… Her overwrought nerves couldn't cope with unexpected noises. Will would have to fix it. Toby woke suddenly. "Is that Dad?" Then, thankfully, his eyes closed and he slept again.

The moon vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, like a last-second hope denied. The darkness seemed even deeper than before. She felt a surge of outrage. How could he do this to them? After all she'd had to endure? Then the thought struck her that he might not be coming at all, that he might have set all this up with no intention of joining them. Some men did these things. They planned them meticulously, months, even years in advance.

An abandoned wife. A vanished husband. Just another name on the endless list of missing persons. Ten years of marriage ending in silence. Ending like this in the cold darkness. Memories like a fantasy; a clamour of phantoms.

She snuggled deeper into the duvet, tugged it tighter around her shoulders. It was colder than she had expected – chilly air creeping in at the edges, no matter how tight she pulled it. Would they survive the night? Perhaps she should try to find a neighbour – there must be people out there somewhere. But she couldn't see any house lights. How far would they have to walk to find assistance? The station taxi had driven through a village, but she couldn't remember how far away it was. A mile? Two miles? Even further?

She'd have to break into the house. Yes, that was the best idea. Break in and smash up the dining chairs to make a fire. Then at least they'd be warm. She had a kettle and there was milk in the coolbox. And biscuits somewhere… Tomorrow she would find a neighbour and get help.

But what would she tell them? What could she say if Will had simply gone off with her? The tale she told would seem like the raving of a half-wit.

But then she must have been out of her mind to have trusted him again.

The wind was picking up. Was there a storm coming? She couldn't remember what the weather girl had said… About to leap to her feet and smash a window, she saw headlights coming down the lane.

The vehicle slowed when it reached the cottage, its headlights sweeping the front of the building, revealing the mellow hand-made bricks of the eighteenth-century walls. Then the car pulled on to the short, unmade drive, its lights still on, revealing the chairs, bed bases, mattresses, tables and the stack of cardboard boxes piled high on the path.

Will Harding, an athletic thirty-seven-year-old, climbed from the car and hurried towards her, his anxious expression quickly hardening into stoical resignation.

The relief that swept through her at the sight of his mass of wild curls and designer stubble was already shifting to anger. How dare he do this after all she'd had to suffer through the summer?

"Where the hell have you been, Will? You were supposed to get here first and let us in. The taxi dropped us off hours ago!"

He replied more curtly than he had intended. "It was foggy. There was an accident. I was stuck in the tailback. Nothing I could do about it."

"What accident? There was no fog here. The removal guys got straight through!"

"You could have rung me."

"I tried. There's no bloody signal here! It felt like I'd been abandoned in mediaeval England!"

He looked suddenly weary. "I'm sorry. I did my best."

"Damn it, Will – you organised this. It's not my fault we had to come here!" Her words checked him. She caught his fleeting guilty look.

His temper flared. "Never stop reminding me, will you?"

"You caused the problems!" She gestured at the furniture. "And now look at the mess we're in!"

She realised too late that Toby was awake and was watching them anxiously.

"Don't fight, Mum. Please don't. I thought we were going to be happy now?"

She kissed his forehead. "Oh, Toby – of course we are."

Will wrenched his features into a smile. "We're just a bit tired. It's time we got some rest." He produced a key from his pocket. "Didn't pick this up from the agent till five. Then twenty minutes on the motorway turned into two hours! I'll get another key cut soon as I can." He unlocked the door. "We'll just bring in the basics for tonight, there's no rain forecast." He switched on the hall light. "At least the electric's on and the agent assured me the place has been cleaned. We'll be settled in no time!"

He's talking too much, she thought. A man with no guilty conscience wouldn't need to sound so jolly.

Will carried duvets upstairs and put them on the carpeted floor of the room that was going to be Toby's. "Everywhere's clean like I said. We can manage without beds for one night."

The house had three bedrooms, all with fitted units, but the smallest was no more than a boxroom and not large enough for Toby and all his toys. Will laid his son gently on a duvet and placed another on top of him. "Pretend you're camping, Toby. Just for tonight."

"Where's my train?"

Alice knelt and stroked his hair. "It's still packed. We'll find it  tomorrow. And all your other toys as well."

"Can we go exploring?"

Will smiled down indulgently. "Of course. Just as soon as we've brought in the furniture." He shot a quick glance at Alice. "Nice change from being an unpaid removal man!"

"That's your own fault," she replied accusingly. "You should have got a local firm that could have called for the key themselves – not just stuck a pin in the directory."

"I thought we were trying to do this without attracting attention."

She had no answer to that, because it was true.

He smiled down at Toby. "Night, son."

"Night, Dad." Toby snuggled deeply into the duvets.

Will headed for the door. "I'll bring in some kitchen stuff. We'll have an early breakfast."

Alice sat on the floor until Toby was asleep. As she closed the bedroom door Will came up the stairs clutching pillows and sleeping bags. He was frowning.

"We mustn't row in front of Toby. We don't want him carrying our baggage. Perhaps you could remember that?"

"You accusing me?"

"You have to let the past go and move on."

"I'm not the guilty party here! You were the one who betrayed us!"

He sighed. "I can't talk to you. I'm going to get some sleep."

He disappeared into the master bedroom and shut the door. She hovered a moment on the landing as if she might follow him, then turned and walked quietly down the stairs.

As far as she could see, the agent had been telling the truth. The house did indeed seem clean. She spent the next hour sorting out the kitchen, unpacking crockery, utensils and saucepans. The activity was a relief after the stress of the move. She tried to convince herself that Will was full of honest intentions, but doubt persisted, like the dull ache of a decaying tooth.

She couldn't get over the idea that what Will had called a charming rural retreat might be a prison. The place was more remote than she had imagined. Without a second car what could she do? Will could claim to be away on business and simply be with her. Why had she agreed to come here? Why had she been so easily persuaded?

There was only one answer: she loved the man. She wanted to believe him when he said it had only been a spur-of-the-moment thing. But love, as always, was blind.

Will seemed to be asleep as she crept into the bedroom. She quietly undressed by the light of her handbag torch, but then had to endure a five-minute tussle with the zip on her sleeping bag. Her exasperated sighing woke him up.

"What's the problem?"

"This bloody zip. It's caught in the material."

He rolled over the floor towards her. "Let me do it."

A few seconds later the zip was free and Alice was able to wriggle into her sleeping bag. "Thanks."

"No problem. Husbands are sometimes useful."

They lay side by side in the darkness. She could hear him shifting around, trying to get comfortable.

"Hush, Will. I'm trying to listen."

"To what?”

"Nothing. That's the point."

"You saw the photos, same as me. You read the info. Nearest village half a mile away, no passing traffic." His terse manner softened, became more placatory. "No one knows us here. It's a really private place. I thought that's what you wanted."

"The idea of being private does appeal to me." She frowned into the darkness. "I hope the reality can match it." Then, after a calculating pause: "Could be an ideal place for you to confront your demons."

She heard him move. She knew he was sitting up in the dark glaring at her.

"My demons?"

She turned her back on him. A moment later she heard him do the same.

* * *

They were up and about early. By mid-morning the bedroom furniture was in place. Will struggled in with the mattress and pushed it on to the double bed. Alice officiated, feeling to some extent avenged for the previous day's ordeal.

"Missed my vocation." He looked around the room, pleased with himself. "Well, I guess I've passed the test."

"What test?"

"Of my commitment. To us."

For a moment he looked wide open, vulnerable. But she had no mercy.

"You've proved nothing. It's the very least you could do!"

She swept out of the room. He collapsed on the bed, sweating, deflated.

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Ian & Rosi Taylor

BOOK TITLE: Ghost Boy

GENRE: Horror

PAGE COUNT: 128

IN THE BLOG: Best Ghost Stories