The Mammoth Book of Modern Ghost Stories

“Just an ordinary road in an ordinary English town,” said a man’s voice. It was a strong deep voice, warm and concerned. “An ordinary summer’s day. But for one woman nothing will be the same again. There will never be another summer’s day for her.”

David looked at the strange boy. His eyes were wide and fixed intently on the screen, and his lips were moving unconsciously with the words. David felt queer. He knew now very strongly that he didn’t want to watch the film at all. He let his eyes go back to the screen, but tried to make them out of focus so that he couldn’t see clearly.

A few minutes passed. There was no more commentary from the film, but suddenly the strange boy said something.

“What?” said Martin.

“I says it’s a nice house, ain’t it?” said the boy.

Kevin, frowning concentratedly, took no notice. Martin grunted, but David looked at the boy again. Anything to get his eyes off the screen; but nothing had happened yet.

“Must be nice living there,” said the boy, still staring. But his expression was strange; David couldn’t understand it.

“Yeah,” he said to the boy.

There was a woman on the screen. She was doing normal things, like washing up and ironing. She was talking to the camera about housework or something. David felt full of fear, almost ready to be sick, because it was all so ordinary, and you knew she was real, and you knew it had really happened, like this, and you knew you were going to see her murdered.

“This is boring,” said Kevin. “What’s she on about?”

“Shut up,” said Martin. “They got the camera in there to get her confidence.”

“But there ain’t nothing happening,” said Kevin. “She’s just bloody talking.”

“She’s pretty, ain’t she?” said the boy.

The other two fell silent, and turned to him for a moment. Even David sensed it was an odd thing to say.

“Eh?” said Martin.

“I says she’s pretty, ain’t she. She’s really nice.”

“What d’you mean?” said Kevin.

“She’s my mum,” said the boy.

There was another silence then. Everything had suddenly changed, and David felt it, but didn’t know how or why.

“Eh?” said Martin.

“I says she’s my mum. She loves me and I love her.”

The boys shifted in their seats. The pictures on the screen had changed. It was night-time, and the camera was outside the house looking in through the kitchen window. The room was warmly lit; the woman was moving about, alone, watering some big green plants. She bent down and picked up a little baby from what must have been a carry-cot, and cuddled it. But none of the three boys were taking this in: they were paralysed by what the strange boy had said. No-one said that sort of thing.

“He’s mad,” said Kevin uneasily.

“Hey, what’s your name?” said Martin.

There was no reply. Instead the commentary began again:

“Alone. There is no-one to help. Little does she know that an unseen hand has cut the phone wire. And now . . . the fear begins.”

The boy was mouthing the words as if he knew them by heart. Suddenly from the darkness a stone shattered the kitchen window, and the woman gasped and turned wildly, clutching the baby to her. Her wide-eyed face stared out at them, and then they all saw at once that she was his mother.

She was bending now, putting the baby down swiftly. And then another window shattered, and she jumped and cried out.

David’s heart was beating like a captured bird.

“Martin—” he started to say, but Martin himself spoke at the same time, loudly, sitting up tensely in his chair and turning to the strange boy.

“What d’you want?” he cried. “What you come here for?”

Kevin was shifting himself next to David, making himself look small and inconspicuous, like he did in class. Martin’s face was twisted and full of hate.

“Just wanted to see—” began the strange boy, but his dry rustling voice was drowned by a scream from the TV. David flicked a sideways look at the screen: a man with a stocking mask had burst into the kitchen. There was a blur in the sound, as if two pieces of film had been joined carelessly, and then the camera was suddenly inside the kitchen with them.

“Martin!” cried David.

“What’s the matter?” shouted Martin. He was shaking, glaring at the screen, staring wildly, gripping the remote control. “You scared? You seen enough?” He pressed the volume switch, and terrible sounds flooded the room. David put his hands over his ears. Kevin was still watching, but he’d curled up very small, and he was holding his fists in front of his mouth.

And the strange boy was still gazing at the screen. The woman was speaking, gabbling desperately, and the boy’s eyes followed her and his lips moved with her words.

“Shut up!” Martin yelled. “Shut up!”