Haunted Read online

  The unease began to pass; I felt my body relaxing, the muscles letting go. I lay back. It must have been something else that was bothering me. I could not think what it was. But it had passed. Sleep began to take me – the black void of the doorframe watching on – the wind gently creaking the house – the slow sounds of night in the distance.

  I woke again while it was still dark. I was convinced that some form of noise had caused me to stir, but now I was awake I could no longer hear anything that fitted the expectation. I looked over at Ollie. He was lying awake, silently staring in my direction. He said nothing – he just watched. The look on his face was puzzling. Then I heard Mum and Dad arguing. I thought I heard doors slam and Dad go to his shed. Ollie rolled over to face his wall without a word. In the corner of my eye I thought I saw something on the wall behind me, like an opening that shouldn't have been there. A door or a window. A dark space shifting. But as I turned quickly there was nothing there. After a few moments I let my head sink back into the pillow. I lay there for some time, I don't know how long, but eventually sleep came.

  * * *

  Ollie was standing in the drive looking at the house. I came out to him and handed him his school bag. It was the second week of school, and I had already reminded him four times to bring his books.

  'Thanks,' he said, then after a pause added, 'Do you remember the old house?'

  We used to live in London, but I didn't remember much. I was young when we moved.

  'Bits,' I said. 'But not really. How come?'

  He thought for a moment. I put my arms into my rucksack as I waited and looked up at the top window Ollie was staring at.

  Our house had a large thatched, timber-framed central section that used wooden pegs instead of nails. I planned to do a school project on it this year as it must be at least five hundred years old. There were 'modern' brick extensions on either side – grand and Georgian in style. It was an interesting jigsaw. I planned to study architecture in more detail and our house would definitely help.

  'Nothing, it's different is all,' Ollie said, still studying the bedroom window.

  He looked at me for a moment then we set off.

  It wasn't too far to walk to school. Twenty minutes at most. Away from the road there was a path along a hedgerow down the side of the fields that separated our house from the middle of the village. We had been allowed to make the walk on our own for a year now. I studied the hedgerow as we went. The blackberries would be out soon. I liked blackberry and apple crumble. It was one of my favourite desserts. We had apple trees in the garden, so hopefully we'd have the pudding a lot over the next month or so. As we walked along, nothing much was said between me and Ollie, but this wasn't unusual.

  At the school gate we went our separate ways. By the main entrance I waited for the bell while Ollie ran off to a group of kids at the far end of the playground. He didn't say goodbye. There wasn't much point, we would see each other in a few minutes anyway. We were in the same year, so even without assembly we'd be back together soon. We got on fine at home but I suspected Ollie liked this time away from me. I suspected he resented the fact that we were in the same year even though I was a couple of years younger than him. I knew some of the kids mocked him for it, but he was still a lot more popular than me.

  'Eager to get in, Jacob?' one of the dads said to me with a knowing look as he waited with his daughter from the youngest year. I think she was called Marianna. She was half-Slovak. Her dad was from a small town in the Tatras. I smiled and nodded.

  Ollie sat with his friends in class. I was on a different table; there was Dean, a boy from the small estate at the other end of the village, Rebecca, who I got on well with, and Kevin, who – despite being the same age as all the other kids in the class except me – was already able to drive a tractor on his dad's farm. This made a lot of kids jealous – me included. A tractor was an impressive piece of machinery. When one rumbled past you on a tight country lane, it was always a thrill.

  Rebecca was clever for her year and shared the extra lessons I had twice a week from a private tutor, so we always had a lot to talk about. If I wasn't two years younger than her, Dean would have probably called us boyfriend and girlfriend, even though it wasn't true. He sometimes tried to hint at it but it never stuck. I hadn't come to an opinion yet on how this reflected on me, but I suspected it made my life easier.

  After science and maths we had free reading for half an hour before afternoon break. I enjoyed this time as it allowed me to go at my own pace. A mobile library visited the school once a week, and we could select the books we wanted. I made a few special requests that were taken from the main library and added to what was officially the 'children's' mobile library. Rebecca had also made some requests, and we were currently both reading Lord of the Flies for fun and a book on Descartes' Discourse on Method that was recommended by our tutor as something more academic – although Lord of the Flies was certainly educational. I liked Descartes a lot. He had used reason and deduction to reduce all thoughts and knowledge down to what can be known without doubt. Which was not much as it turned out, but he understood the power of thought and how senses can be deceived. He believed in God, which was the norm for the philosophers and scientists of the time, but he made it clear that reason was enough for deciding on what is good or bad – a higher power wasn't needed – virtuousness could be deducted through reason alone.

  While we were reading, Mrs Rigg was writing out homework on the white-board. I noticed she had accidentally left the second 'r' out of arthropod. I pointed it out and she thanked me and corrected it. Dean giggled, and I noticed Ollie and his friends watching me from their table. It reminded me that Ollie had got every single answer correct when Mum had tested him on his homework the night before, and I realised Mrs Rigg had forgotten to give the test. She thanked me again for reminding her – but there were groans from the rest of the class as she told everyone to get their pens out. The displeasure of the class didn't bother me though as I knew Ollie would have a chance to do well. But when I looked at him, I was surprised – he didn't look pleased at all and was in fact nearly as irritated as the other boys around him. He held my look for a while then focused on his answer sheet.

  At break time there was a game of football on the playing field. Because of my age I was small compared to the other boys in my year. This was a large disadvantage, and I was inevitably almost always one of the last to be picked. I enjoyed playing nonetheless – physical exercise is good for the brain. As the sides formed, once again, the group of people left to be selected thinned until it was just me standing on my own. Whichever team Ollie was on were almost always the one that ended up picking me, and it was about to happen again. I looked at Ollie but he appeared to be hesitant. His friends from class were all on his team and they simply pulled at his shoulder as they turned away and started the game without saying my name or anything else at all. I assumed it didn't need to be confirmed that I was on their team as I was the last remaining choice and it was their turn to pick, so I ran onto the temporary pitch marked out with coats and school bags anyway.

  I wasn't the best player by any stretch, but I was okay. Despite my size I could hold my own. But as the game went on it seemed that no one on my side was giving me the ball. Frustrated, I tried to get involved by winning the ball back from the opposition, but after twenty minutes I had barely touched the ball once. When the ball bounced in Neil Greene's direction, I finally saw my opportunity. I accelerated to a sprint, certain I could reach the ball first. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that I had miscalculated the timings; still running at full pace I had to readjust at the last moment and half skidded, half stumbled in a very ungraceful fashion as Neil reached the ball a moment before I did. I clattered into him and our knees and shins cracked together awkwardly. Neil was a lot bigger than me but I had caught him from the side, and I could tell he was hurt straight away. I was hurt too. That deep, teeth-clenching sort of pain. I rubbed my shin and my knee vigorously as all the boys came running in and formed a huddle around us.

  'Ow, sorry,' was all I could say as I tried to encourage my shin to stop sending the daggers of pain up my leg. There was no hiding that the collision was my fault.

  'You knob,' was all that Neil could manage as he stopped focusing on his own pain long enough to reach over and punch me on the arm. The blow hurt but not nearly as much as my leg.

  'Yeah, how do you spell dick-head?' Darren Butcher said scornfully. He was one of Ollie's mates, and I was ashamed as I looked at Ollie and saw the disappointment in his eyes. I was hoping he would say something to chastise me. To call me a dick-head as well or at least tell me to watch what I was doing. This would have been enough for everyone and ended it, but he didn't say anything. He just watched. This left me firmly in everyone's bad books for my dangerous challenge, and I knew straight away that I couldn't carry on playing. The game was over for me. I slowly got to my feet and hobbled away from the pitch as the other boys pulled Neil up and the game started again. Not everyone joined in with the restart though. Darren Butcher and two other of Ollie's mates didn't seem to consider the matter finished. They followed me.

  'Oi, dick-head,' Darren called after me.

  'I know,' I said as they caught up with me. 'It was an accident.'

  'We didn't even want you to play in the first place,' Simon Bennet said.

  'Learn to take a bloody hint,' Darren said.

  I sat down on a bench by the small garden that one of the junior classes had planted a few years ago and avoided their eyes.

  'Yeah, you're supposed to be smart,' Leon Turner added in a thick Essex accent I thought he exaggerated.

  'It's like when you begged to watch that horror film with us then pissed your pants and cried to your mum you were so sc
ared. Try listening once in a while,' Simon said.

  'And if the teacher forgets a test, don't remind her,' Darren said with annoyance. 'What's wrong with you?'

  This annoyed me a little.

  'We all knew there was a test. It's not my fault if you didn't do your homework.'

  'That's not the point,' Darren replied.

  'Just because you think you're cleverer than everyone else, doesn't mean you are,' Simon said. 'My dad told me. He said there's loads of stuff he knows that someone like you would never know.'

  'Someone like me?' I said irritably.

  'And he said people like you always go crazy and are never happy when they grow up. So,' Simon added.

  'What does he mean, “people like me”?'

  'Dick-heads,' Leon said succinctly.

  'Yeah, enjoy being on your own, dick-head,' Darren added. 'You better get used to it. 'Cause you're not going to stop being a dick-head, and everyone knows it. So don't come to us when you're old and crazy and still a dick-head, because that's what you're going to be.'

  I could see Ollie watching us across the field. I didn't like the way this was going. I rubbed my shin. I had been teased and made fun of plenty of times, but never bullied – not as far as I was concerned – it was always more like siblings fighting. This felt different though, and I didn't like it. I stood up.

  'Punch me then,' I said calmly, even though I didn't feel calm.

  Simon and Leon looked at each other in confusion. Darren looked back at Ollie, who showed no sign of coming over.

  'You think I'm a dick-head? Punch me. If that's what you want. If it will make you feel better.'

  I looked each of them in the eye.

  Simon and Leon didn't look sure, but it didn't take Darren long to decide his course of action. He landed a punch straight into my head. I went down to the ground and he jumped on top of me and carried on punching. I'd had enough fights with Ollie to know that I needed to thrash and make things difficult for Darren, and it quickly became a wrestling match more than anything else – the first blow was still the only major one I'd taken when Ollie suddenly pulled Darren off me.

  'Oi,' he said in irritation as me and Darren stood up and got our breaths back. We both ended up looking at Ollie. I could tell he was genuinely annoyed, but I couldn't tell who that annoyance was mainly aimed at. He looked at both of us again as a small crowd gathered around.

  'What the hell are you doing?' he said quickly.

  Darren and I looked at each other.

  'Stop being dick-heads and shake hands,' he said firmly.

  We looked at each other, our uniforms and hair ruffled and out of place.

  'Fine,' Darren said eventually and offered his hand. I took it. 'Just stop being such a smart-arse dick all the time,' he said as we let go.

  There was a moment of quiet when the situation could still have gone either way.

  'We'd be lucky,' Ollie added with a glance in my direction – and I was relieved. I knew then it would be the end of it. Everyone else seemed to feel it too and people began to disperse. A dinner lady came over to see what the fuss was about, but there was nothing to see; the action was over. Break-time went back to its normal business. My leg still hurt so I didn't go back to the football game.

  At second break I didn't see any of the others, Ollie or his friends. I spent time talking to Rebecca about Piggy in Lord of the Flies; we were both puzzled how such a noble character, for whom it was so easy to feel empathy, still managed to come across as unlikable. It was an impressive achievement by Mr Golding and one we both felt revealed something about human beings you couldn't quite put your finger on, even though we still tried to. But sometimes art gets you in that way. It's why I think it's as important as maths or science. It can draw that thing in the corner of your eye you can never quite get a proper look at or the idea that lurks between two thoughts. There's a mystery to it I like.

  After second break, Ollie and his mates were late in, and it soon became clear that Darren wasn't with them. They claimed not to have seen him or know his whereabouts when questioned by Mrs Rigg, but I could tell they were keeping something back. Mrs Rigg told us to read our textbooks and left the classroom. She came back a little later and the class carried on. Thirty minutes after that, Darren arrived. He was accompanied by his irritated-looking father, who was dressed in his greasy work overalls. Darren trudged sheepishly back into the class and his dad left swiftly without a word. Darren didn't look at Ollie or the rest of the guys on their table as he sat down. Something had clearly happened between them, and Darren continued to avoid eye contact with the others for the rest of the afternoon.

  At the end of school, I was surprised to see Mum waiting at the office as we left class. She didn't look pleased. I got to her first but she simply told me in clipped tones to go wait by the car. I obeyed. As I went out of the double doors, I saw Mum marching Ollie towards the headmaster's office.

  I waited in the car park for some time. Except for the teachers' vehicles, it was empty by the time Ollie and Mum came out. In the car home there was silence.

  'What happened?' I asked Ollie quietly. But I just got Mum's eyes in the rear-view mirror.

  * * *

  Mum and Dad were screaming at each other. I have a good memory but I can't remember the first time they argued.

  'Apparently the boy was shaking,' I heard Mum shout. 'Bloody shaking. None of them are talking.'

  Ollie and I were confined to our room. I didn't know what I had done to deserve it. Ollie was drawing in a notebook and I was reading more of Mr Golding's book, but I couldn't give it the concentration it deserved. I looked at Ollie on his bed.

  'What happened?' I asked.

  'Nothing,' he said and carried on drawing.

  'Where did Darren go?'

  'I don't know. It was just an argument.'

  I fiddled with the corner of a page until I realised I'd creased it. I smoothed it out with my finger and thumb. I thought for a moment then put the book down and went to the window. A cluster of large birch trees partially blocked the view to the neighbouring fields. There were several thick nests in the boughs, but despite their size I'd never actually seen any birds in them, so they must have been old and long deserted.

  'You need to start getting your shit together!' I heard Mum shout again. 'I've been patient, very bloody patient.'

  'There's nothing wrong with me,' Dad shouted in reply.

  'You better not be trying to claim that this is somehow something to do with me, that this is my fault!' Mum said furiously. 'I made a lot of sacrifices to move out here. We said a couple of years...'

  Their voices lowered back to the level where we couldn't hear individual words anymore, just the sensations of anger and heat in the exchanges – quick words going back and forth. I looked at Ollie.

  'It sounds like a bad one.'

  Ollie didn't say anything.

  'Do you think they could ever break up?' I asked.

  Ollie looked up from his drawing. He watched me for a while, clearly thinking over the question.

  'Try turning your brain off for once,' he said eventually.

  I hadn't noticed before, but now he stared at me I could see Ollie's cheeks looked a little flushed.

  'We shouldn't make it worse, you know,' I added, but regretted it instantly.

  'You want to know what happened with Darren?' he said.

  'Only if you want to tell me.'

  'I didn't do anything. No one did. I just told him some things.'

  'Like what?'

  Ollie thought for a moment.

  'About you.'

  'What about me?'

  He paused again. He looked like he was considering something.

  'I don't know, I wanted him to be scared.'

  'Scared?'

  'Yeah.'

  'Scared of what?'

  'I've seen things. Things that might scare him. He was ready to hear it.'

  'Things? What things?'

  Ollie thought again.

  'I don't know. With you. At night. There's sounds too. But it's not just you. I don't know. Sometimes you freak me out. That's what I told Darren anyway.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I don't know. Maybe you haven't seen anything. I guess you haven't. I can't explain, maybe it's nothing, the house is creaky, but sometimes, I dunno, things move. That's all. I don't know. It sounds stupid. It's probably my imagination. I was exaggerating to scare Darren anyway.' He smiled to himself. 'It worked.'