Deadly Games (9 page)

But chased us both to the railway yard –

“Well, she
was
an old cat,” concluded the rustling leaves, and then the giggling began, horrible to hear in the soft fluttering.

But it was Sid who intervened. “Look, you two. Just cut it out.” His voice was fierce and commanding.

The whispering stopped and then resumed without words and in a much shakier way, as if May and Leslie were alarmed. That's interesting, thought David, calming down a little. Sid's beginning to have an influence on them.

“I'm fed up with what you're doing. So you got to stop.”

The whispering grew even fainter.

“You've got to stop your mischief now.”

Mischief, thought David. That's not exactly what drowning is.

“And you can tell me another thing while you're at it,” continued Sid. “How did Mrs
Garland die?” Then his voice broke slightly. “And how did
you?
Come on – I want an answer.”

The leaves were still now and there was a long silence. Then they began rustling and the whispering came again.

“Daddy, is that you?”

“It could be,” said Sid. “I'd like to be – but you got to behave. Get it?”

“We're sorry we were naughty, Daddy.”

“You've got to stop all this messing about.”

“Mrs Garland – she was cruel.”

“Cruel to be kind,” Sid pointed out firmly. “I'm sure that's all she was. And you two didn't exactly make her life easy, did you?”

“She chased Alan under a train.”

“Did she push him?”

“He was frightened.” The rustling grew softer again, the words harder to make out.

“Didn't you do it?” said David suddenly. “Didn't you goad Alan into jumping under that tube train?”

The leaves were still and the silence became ominous.

“Here, cut it out, Dave.” Sid was upset. “They're not as bad as all that.”

“Was Alan killed?” asked Jenny gently.

The leaves came back into reluctant life. “No.”

“Not
killed?” Sid was completely thrown and Jenny saw that David was about to say something.
She squeezed his arm hard, for she knew that if either of them spoke, May and Leslie would react badly.

“He fell under the tube train, but he wasn't hurt.” The words were barely distinguishable now.

“Then where is he?” demanded Sid.

There was no reply.

“How did Mrs Garland die, then? Tell me – and I'll be very pleased with you. I
want
to be pleased with you.”

“She died with us,” came the faint whisper. “But she's gone now. We're all alone again.”

“Where are you?” asked Sid gently. “I want to find you. I want to look after you. You don't
have
to be alone.”

But the withered leaves of the tree were completely still again.

“We'd better carry on with the search,” said Jenny as the moon rode high over the yard, picking out the skeleton of a rusting crane just behind the engine shed.

“May and Leslie were rabbiting on about a well in that nursery rhyme,” said David. “Is that meant to be a clue?”

“A well? Here?” Sid considered the idea. “I've never seen one but that doesn't mean anything.”

“I don't understand why May and Leslie keep
spouting those idiotic nursery rhymes,” scoffed David. “How can they be so babyish?”

“They recite them to wind people up. I'm sure of that,” said Jenny, impatient to get going. She was cold and scared and she wanted to get the whole thing over with. “They started on Mrs Garland and now they're using them on us.”

“They're so immature – ” began David.

But Jenny interrupted him impatiently. “We can't just sit here all night listening to those brats and then doing nothing. We need to put in some action and find this well.”

“No one's going anywhere,” said Sid with surprising authority. “Not until I've made up a fire.”

“A fire?” asked Jenny.

“To dry off your clothes,” he replied. “It's bad enough you worrying your parents like this, but to get pneumonia as well – I can't let you do that.” Sid looked stern. “Not after all you've done for me.”

He soon had a fire crackling away and the twins watched Sid with a new respect; he seemed to be a real man of the road now, rather than an elderly vagrant with an obsession. The flames flickered low, throwing out a dense heat which gradually eased the painful chill of the pool.

“Now you tell me,” said Sid. “How am I going to help May and Les?”

“You've got to try and release them,” said Jenny, “The longer they're here, the more trouble they're going to cause.” She gazed around at the dereliction. What a place to be trapped in!

“But how am I going to do that?” asked Sid miserably. “What am I meant to do?”

“What you've already done,” said David. “Show them love. That's what they want – that's what they expect from you. And the worse they behave, the more they want it. I'm sure we're right about that.”

“I'm trying,” Sid grumbled. “What do they think I'm doing?”

“They're jealous of us – that's another complication,” David continued. “They want us out of the way. We've got to be careful.”

“I'm not a fool. OK, I blinded myself to all their faults, but now – Hang on.” Sid was gazing into the fire. “That can't just be my imagination – ”

“What is it?” asked Jenny, but soon the twins could see what Sid was staring at. The flames flickered and took shape.

Three figures were falling down a long shaft, tumbling over and over each other until they disappeared. The images repeated themselves again and again and again. Then with a crack a piece of red-hot wood shot out of the fire and just missed Jenny's face. As it did so, the pictures faded.

“That was Mrs G and the two kids.” Sid choked back a sob. “Falling down the well. How did they do it? Why did they do it? Was it an accident or – ” Before he could finish, more splinters of wood exploded from the flames, seeking out the twins like guided missiles. Although they ducked and weaved, jumped and dodged, several of the red-hot splinters found their target and the twins howled with pain.

“Get away from the fire,” Sid shouted. “Just get away!”

As the missile attack increased, David and Jenny ran towards the shelter of a galvanised tank full of water and hid behind it. Crouching down, they could hear the sound of the burning wood hitting the surface and fizzling out. They could also hear Sid yelling.

“You stop this,” he bawled at May and Leslie, who were nowhere to be seen. “You stop this right now!” But his authority over the ghost children seemed to have lessened.

Mrs Garland's wraith stood on the overhanging arm of the crane, staring down at them. Jenny and David could see tears pouring down her cheeks, could feel her silent misery. Then she slowly faded away and Jenny wasn't sure whether she had seen her or not.

“Did you see what I saw?” she asked her twin.

“Mrs G,” he replied. “You scared?”

“More than I've ever been before,” said Jenny fearfully. “I get the feeling that Mrs G's hoping we can do something, that she still cares about May and Leslie but can't reach them. Those two brats, though – they're really lethal. Nothing Sid says is going to stop them. They're out to get us.”

“Do you think we
can
do anything?”

“Hard to know what,” she said doubtfully. “We only seem to make things worse. Of course, we could always go home and leave Sid to it. Perhaps he'd get on better on his own.”

“Do you mean that?” asked David incredulously.

“Not really,” Jenny admitted. “I know May and Leslie seem to respond to him, but that could be one of their tricks too. I wouldn't like to think of finding Sid at the bottom of a well. I mean, maybe they want him dead – to be with them that way.”

David agreed. “We can't leave him. We've got to protect Sid, but how?”

“I don't know,” replied Jenny hopelessly. “You never know what they're going to do next. And we've got to watch out for ourselves too all the time.”

“You bet,” said David fervently.

“Oi,” Sid exclaimed. “The fire's dying. Can't think why – there's plenty of wood on it. I've never seen anything like this. It's weird.”

“It's May and Leslie,” said Jenny as the twins
cautiously returned to his side. “They're at it again.”

There was no wind and the air was bone dry, yet the flames were dying back, sinking into a glowing mass. Then the glow went out and there was nothing but darkness.

“Ding,” came a giggling voice.

“Dong.” The word was accompanied by a delighted snigger.

“Stop it!” Sid sounded nervous.

David glanced up at the big, bloated, waxy-looking moon that was floating in the heavens, looking as unhealthy as the nettles around them. Nettles? He hadn't noticed how tall they had become. Then one of them bent towards David and stung him painfully on the wrist.

“Right,” he shouted, rubbing at the red mark. “This has got to stop.”

“Ding!” came the cry.

David punched at the air, losing his temper completely. “I'll get you,” he yelled. “I'll really get you!” But all he could hear was ghostly sniggering.

“Let's find that well,” said Jenny. “Now.”

“That could be the worst idea we ever had,” retorted David, but his sister nudged him and he saw Sid looking dazed, wheezing badly and staring round in desperation. The whole situation was getting out of hand now; Sid had lost his authority and looked like losing his grip.

“Where's Gumbo?” he moaned. “She's done a bunk again.”

“We'll start searching, Sid.” David tried to sound as resolute as possible. “We'll get this sorted out somehow.” As he spoke, the rat scuttled into view.

“We'll have to split up,” said David. “We can cover much more ground that way.”

“No,” replied Jenny at once. “That's just what May and Leslie want. At least together we stand a chance against them.”

David stared around the wilderness disconsolately. The well could have been covered over by all this undergrowth years ago. Suddenly he trod on something soft and warm which gave out a piercing squeal.

“What was that?” he gasped. “Gumbo?”

“No, it's a kitten,” said Sid. “Look, it's gone streaking over there.”

“Watch out, David,” whispered Jenny.

The mother cat bounded towards him, arching its back and spitting.

“Wild cats,” whispered Sid. Gumbo streaked off again, this time towards a pile of old bogey wheels.

“Don't like the look of her,” muttered David, backing slowly away from the mother cat, who stood her ground, staring and spitting, challenging them to harm her kitten. Then she slowly turned away and began to pad back through the foliage.

“Is Gumbo all right?” asked a chastened David.

“She wouldn't have come off too well if there'd been a fight,” said Sid. “She'll lie low for a while now.”

“Ding, dong, bell,” came a shrill voice from nowhere.

Jenny whipped round.

“Ding, dong,” came another voice, exploding with the all too familiar giggling sound. But this time it seemed harsher.

“It's them again.” Sid looked older than ever, a little vein beating in the withered flesh of his neck.

“They're playing with us,” muttered David.

“Where's that well? Come on, you two. Where's that flipping well?” But Sid sounded beaten.

There was no reply, and after a while Sid, David and Jenny began to search the yard, moving systematically from the sheet-metal fencing that ran around its perimeter towards the derelict engine shed that stood in the centre. The search was slow and frustrating because nature had reclaimed so much of the yard. Several times they thought they had been successful in locating the well, but in the end they found they had only discovered a bramble-covered oil tank and, later, an inspection pit that bloomed with bright-yellow winter jasmine.

Thoroughly exhausted, the trio stumbled through the wiry undergrowth towards the old engine shed. An owl hooted and a bird that David thought might be a nightjar flew slowly over their heads. Then a scurrying sound announced the return of a more cautious Gumbo.

For some time they continued to search. Just as they had almost given up, Jenny discovered an ivy-covered mound. Tense with foreboding, the twins pulled the damp and silky strands aside and discovered a large wooden hatch which had partly rotted away in the middle.

“Wait a minute,” said Jenny suddenly. The words of the young man in the tunnel were beating away in the back of her mind. Then they became clearer. “He found her with her mouth all swollen up – been trying to gnaw her way through something or other.” She turned abruptly to her twin. “Those are teeth marks. Do you think Gumbo's been trying to get into the well – to reach May and Leslie?”

“Why should it?” asked David.

“I don't know,” replied Jenny. “But I'm sure those are teeth marks – and look at the rat.”

Gumbo was jumping about their feet in excitement. But Sid didn't appear to have been listening to them or paying attention to Gumbo's antics.

“This must be it,” said Jenny triumphantly.

Sid was gazing down at the hatch with single-minded intensity. “Be hard to shift that lot.”

“Let's see if we can pull it back,” said David, trying not to sound as nervous as he now felt, half expecting to be confronted by May and Leslie at any moment.

They all three pulled and pushed at the hatch with Gumbo watching, its whole body tense, but whether this was the anticipation of a ghost or a marauding mother cat was far from clear.

Eventually, the combined weight of a wheezing Sid and a desperately straining David and Jenny succeeded in pushing the hatch aside. It fell into the mesh of ivy with a dull thud, exposing a stale-smelling black shaft.