Our doorbell rang and I woke with a gasp. There was something terrifying about hearing a doorbell late at night.
I looked at my clock. 11:tenplusthree glowed in fluorescent green. Not good. I closed my eyes and held my breath for three sets of seven, listening to a police siren that became louder and then faded as it passed the end of our street. When I opened my eyes, it was 11:14. I breathed out in relief.
I could hear Mr. Charles on our doorstep talking to Dad.
“… going to the hospital for a checkup … probably just something I’ve eaten …”
“… best to get it checked out …”
“… Mum is on a flight right now. Can you have her here tonight?”
“… of course, no problem …”
The door closed and Dad’s voice went all squeaky. I recognized his “talking to small kids” voice.
“We’ll make you up a nice, cozy bed in the spare room, okay? Just across the landing from Matthew. You know Matty, don’t you?”
I stepped out onto the landing. Mum was heading upstairs, her eyes wide.
“Mr. Charles has got chest pains, so the police are running him to the hospital to get checked out. We’ve got Casey here for the night. Isn’t that nice?”
“No, not really.”
She ignored me and walked into the nursery and began dragging the boxes of baby stuff out onto the landing. The elephant mobile was dumped on top, its strings still tangled. Five long years of dangling in limbo and she’d gotten rid of it, just like that.
“Brian! Get Casey a little glass of milk, would you?”
I peeked over the banister and there she was, standing on our doormat wearing a long, old-fashioned-looking nightdress and hugging the bedraggled doll. As she followed Dad to the kitchen she glanced up at me, her eyes narrowing.
“Chest pains?” I said. “It’s probably indigestion! What’s he going to the hospital for?!”
Mum frowned at me. “When did you become the medical expert?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I shrugged. A big slab of that cake Melody delivered was enough to give anyone chest pains.
“Can’t she sleep downstairs on the sofa?”
Mum exhaled as she dumped the final box and a tiny puff of dust dispersed into the air.
“What are you talking about, Matthew? You really do say the strangest things sometimes. How can I let a small child sleep downstairs on her own, especially after her little brother has gone missing?”
She wiped her forehead.
“Where’s that foam mattress gone? That will do …”
She wandered off to her room as I paced around on the landing. I could hear Dad squeaking away to Casey downstairs about the devil cat.
“Isn’t he a silly Nigel, eh, Casey? Whoever heard of a cat who likes to sleep on a pool table! Would you like a cookie? Oh no, actually, you’d better not since you’ve probably brushed your teeth already. Sheila? You done yet?”
Mum reappeared dragging our dusty, old foam bed, which had seen better days. I danced around her, trying to block her way without actually touching anything as she left a trail of yellow foam behind her.
“She doesn’t even know us!” I whispered. “How can Mr. Charles leave her with a family she doesn’t know? Shouldn’t social services be involved?”
Mum shuffled the bed into the room and positioned it in the corner near the computer desk.
“Her mum’s on a flight now, so she’ll be here within hours and anyway, Mr. Charles was the one who suggested she stay, and we’re not going to let down one of our neighbors at a time like this, are we? Get a couple of sheets and a pillow, would you?”
I hesitated, then used my top to pull open the door to the linen closet. Sheets, duvet covers, towels, and pillowcases were stacked up to the ceiling.
Dad delivered Casey to the top of the stairs.
“Here we are! One little girl, ready for bed. I’ll leave you to it then, Sheila, okay? Looks like you’ve got it all under control …” He went back down humming to himself.
Casey had her head tucked low with her doll clutched under her chin.
“Nearly done, Casey, love. Pass me the sheets then, Matthew. Don’t just stand there!”
I didn’t move.
“I don’t know which ones,” I said.
Mum huffed and grabbed what she needed.
“Would you like a glass of water for the night, Casey?” said Mum as she got on her hands and knees to make up the bed.
“Yes, please,” said Casey.
“Wow, she’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” said Mum, pointing to the doll, which clearly wasn’t a pretty thing at all after its dunking in the pond and wading pool.
“Has she got a name?”
Casey shrugged, then looked straight at me and smiled.
“Goldie,” she whispered.
“Goldie. Ah, that must be because of her, erm, beautiful hair. Right, you wait here with Matthew while I go and get your water.”
As soon as Mum left, Casey stared at me and made an O shape with her mouth and smacked her lips together.
“Is that your tank, Goldfish Boy?” she said, looking over my shoulder into my bedroom.
Smack, smack, smack.
“Doesn’t it get boring swimming around in there all day? Up and down, up and down.”
My eyes were stinging. “How’s it any of your business?”
Smack, smack, smack.
She followed me to my door.
“Have you got one of those little treasure chests in there that open and close with all the bubbles? Hmmm, little fishy?”
She tried to look past me and into my room, but I stood in her way. Tilting her head to one side, she screwed her eyes up at me.
“How can you still breathe when you’re out of your tank, Goldfish Boy? Why don’t you die?”
I snatched the doll from her arms and she gasped.
“I can breathe a lot better than your brother could when you pushed him in the pond, you evil little witch.”
“Give her back!”
She tried to grab the doll, but I held it high out of her reach. Germs scurried down my arm.
“What have you done to him, eh? Where’s Teddy? What have you done to your brother?”
The little girl went scarlet as her feet beat on the carpet.
“I want her back! Give her to me, now!”
I could hear Mum starting up the stairs.
“Is everything all right?”
I gripped the doll’s head and twisted it until it made an awful cracking noise and flopped to one side, and then I thrust it into her chest and slammed my door.
I woke, sweating, at 2:18 a.m. I needed to wash again. I could still feel the doll’s matted hair in my hand, brittle like dried-up seaweed.
The house was silent and I quietly opened my door and crept onto the landing, peeking in on Casey. She had both her arms stretched high above her head. Her mouth was open and dried, and chalky saliva trailed down the side of her cheek as she snored gently. The broken doll was dangling off the side of the bed, its half-decapitated head resting on the carpet. Her eyes suddenly opened and I jumped.
“Goldfish Boy?” she whispered.
I ignored her and turned toward the bathroom, but she carried on.
“The old lady’s got him, Goldfish Boy.”
I stepped into the room
“What do you mean? What old lady?”
Her face was blank, her eyes closed again. She looked like she was asleep.
“Casey,” I whispered. “Do you know who took Teddy?”
She frowned in her sleep, and then holding the doll to her chest, she rolled over and turned her back to me.
Through the open curtain I looked down at Old Nina’s house. It looked darker than usual. Something was different. I was just about to turn away when I realized what it was. The yellow lamp—the one that glowed all day and all night in the front room window—wasn’t glowing anymore.
It had been switched off.