Jake was waiting for me at the end of the alleyway on his bike.
“What you two up to?” he said, his arms folded across his chest. I put the plastic bag behind my back. “You know something, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Do you two think you’re going to find Teddy? You saw something, didn’t you? From the window?”
He leaned forward on the handlebars and edged his way toward me.
“You saw something and you’re not telling anyone.”
“No I didn’t! Now get out of my way, Jake.”
He was blocking the alleyway and there was no room for me to get around.
“That Melody ain’t going to be any use. If you need a partner, I can do some stuff, see what I can find out.”
He shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other, but I couldn’t believe he was asking to get involved. What was he up to?
“You?” I said, stepping against the wall of his house so I could get by. “Thanks but no thanks.”
He sniffed and jutted his chin toward me, and when I tried to squeeze past him he rolled his bike forward and squashed my leg against the wall.
“Jake! What do you think you’re doing?”
I tried to wriggle free, but he pushed the bike harder.
“You think you’re so great, don’t you? Well, you know what, Weirdo Corbin?”
He leaned so close I could see the painful cracks of sore skin in the creases of his eyes.
“You’re nothing.”
He twisted the bike against my leg once more, then pushed away and pedaled off down the road.
When I got home Penny had left and Mum was whispering with Dad in the living room.
“It’s a start, isn’t it, Brian? He went out on his own accord. How long has it been since he’s done that?”
I sat on the bottom of the stairs and kicked my shoes off. My leg was throbbing and every inch of me was swarming with germs. If I didn’t get in the shower immediately I’d get ill. And if I got ill then Mum would get ill and then Dad and then … and then whatever happened next would be all my fault. All because I hadn’t washed in time. Mum came out to see me.
“Give him some space, Sheila! You don’t want to frighten him back into his room now, do you?” called Dad, as if I couldn’t hear.
“I am giving him space! I’m just pleased to see him, aren’t I? How was your little outing, Matthew? Did you go anywhere nice? What’ve you got in that bag?”
I couldn’t speak.
If I spoke then the germs would be able to crawl into my mouth. Dad appeared, taking his turn.
“How about that game of pool, eh, Matthew? I got all the cat hair off while you were out, so it’s as good as new.”
As if this was his cue to join in, Nigel appeared from the kitchen, meowing loudly as he brushed himself against Mum’s legs.
“Oh look, Matty! Nigel is pleased to see you as well. Aren’t you, Nigel-wigel?”
She picked him up and cradled him like a baby as the cat shut its eyes and purred loudly, tipping its head back as Mum scratched him under the chin. I had my very own welcome party.
I suddenly remembered I was still wearing the gloves, so I quickly ran upstairs as Dad yelled after me.
“Matthew? You wearing those bloody gloves again?”
I turned the shower on and twisted the dial to the hottest setting, waiting for it to heat up.
Mum knocked gently on the door.
“Are you okay, Matthew? Is everything all right?”
“Yep, fine, Mum,” I called, trying to sound as cheery as possible.
There was silence but I knew she was still there, listening to the blast of water.
“I’m always here for you, darling. We both are.” Her voice broke a little but she carried on. “You can tell us anything. Don’t ever think we won’t understand, because we will, okay? You’re our very special boy.”
I looked at my reflection in the mirrored cabinet. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, my nose running.
It was all because of me, Mum. The baby you wanted so badly died because of me.
I quietly cleared my throat.
“I know, Mum. I’ll speak to you in a bit. Okay?”
There was more silence and then I heard her pad back downstairs. We both knew I wouldn’t be speaking to her in a bit. I got in the shower and rubbed at my skin with soap. The water was scalding, but I carried on. Killing the germs was vital, and if it wasn’t hot, then they wouldn’t die. After the shower the tightness in my chest loosened a little, and I brushed my teeth five times to make sure nothing had reached my mouth. When I got to the office I knew there would be an email waiting for me. I used my shirt to cover my finger as I clicked the email open.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Subject: My Mistake
I thought out of everybody you’d understand.
There’s not much difference between us, Matthew Corbin. We’re loners, you and I. We don’t fit in. At least I don’t pretend that I do.
Melody Bird
I sat back in the office chair, stunned. A loner? She was calling me a loner? I wasn’t lonely and I certainly fit in! I read the message two more times, then put on a fresh pair of latex gloves.
A second email was waiting for me. He must have sent it before he blocked my way in the alley.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Jake Bishop
Subject: Old Nina Witch
What are you two up to? I saw you both heading to the graveyard. What’s going on? Is it something to do with Old Nina? She’s a witch, you know. She’s probably got a whole load of dead bodies in that house! Remember Halloween?!
Underneath the email he’d inserted a photograph of an old lady, her face distorted and her eyes dangling in two different directions on red-veined stalks.
I knew the Halloween he was talking about. It was the last time I’d been trick-or-treating, three years ago …
It was the first time that we’d been allowed to go on our own, but we were under strict instructions to only knock on the houses in the cul-de-sac, including our own, and not to bother Old Nina at the Rectory. Our mums would be watching us from their living rooms, so all in all it wasn’t looking like a particularly exciting Halloween.
It seemed a bit pointless knocking on our own houses, as our mums had already seen our outfits, but it was worth it for the candy. We started at Jake’s and Sue opened her door and let out an ear-piercing scream when we yelled: “Trick or treat!”
“Oh my goodness, look at you two! Well hello, Mr. Scary Alien and hello, Mr. Scary Werewolf! I think you both need a treat, don’t you?”
“All right, Mum, don’t overdo it,” said Jake as we rummaged around in the candy bowl, each taking a handful for our booty bags before we moved on.
Hannah and Mr. Jenkins’s house was dark, but Jake still insisted on ringing their doorbell over and over until I told him to quit it.
My house was next and Dad answered. He’d only just got home from work and he pretended he didn’t know who we were.
“Good outfit there, boy!” he said to Jake, who was wearing an all-in-one green jumpsuit with a padded tail and a white, rubber alien mask with two black slits for eyes.
“And who is this monster? It looks like you need a decent haircut!” he said to me. I was wearing normal clothes but hairy gloves with claws and a werewolf mask that went over my head. My face was sweating and I tried not to laugh.
Mr. Charles was next. He answered the door and stumbled backward when he saw us.
“Trick or treat!”
“Blimey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” he said, resting his hand on the wall for support. “Is it that day already? Gawd. Hang on a minute … And I don’t want any of your tricks on my garden …”
Jake and I giggled as he went off to try and find something to give us. He didn’t need to worry about us doing a trick. We didn’t have anything with us; no one ever chose “trick” instead of “treat.” He came back with two apples.
“Is that it?” said Jake and I elbowed him.
“You’re lucky you’re not getting a clip to the ear to go with it, lad!” said Mr. Charles, and he slammed the door as we ran down the path laughing.
It was Penny and Gordon’s house next. The best-decorated house in the street. Garlands of black-and-white paper spiders were strung across the window, with webs in each corner that lit up and twinkled. Three beautifully carved pumpkins glowed orange on the step. Mum had bought a pumpkin carving kit from Penny’s Harrington’s Household Solutions catalog, but ours didn’t look anything like these. I glanced back at our house and saw her outline in the window keeping an eye on us.
“Trick or treat!” we yelled as we rang the doorbell of number one.
The door swung open and a faceless figure in a long, black cloak appeared. We both gasped.
“Wooooooohhhh,” it said as it waved its arms at us, stepping outside as we took a step back.
“Gordon? Gordon!” yelled Penny, from the kitchen. “Come and help me with these!”
Gordon ignored her and lifted up the shroud, his face rosy as he laughed.
“Ah, who do we have here then? A scary werewolf and an alien!”
He bent forward to take a proper look, but Penny appeared, all elbows, and barged him out of the way. She was wearing a black-and-white polka dot dress with a tiny silver witch’s hat placed at an angle on her bouffant hairstyle. She was carrying a large tray in the shape of a bat that was filled with pumpkin cookies, candy apples, and muffins decorated with miniature gravestones. The smell was amazing.
“Wow, did you make these, Penny?” I said, giving our identities away.
“Of course, Matthew. Now, you can only take one each. I’ve got to make sure I’ve got enough to go around.”
I grabbed a cookie and put it in my bag as Jake surveyed the tray.
“Have you got any candy?”
Penny stood upright.
“No, I don’t, young man. And if you want any of that processed rubbish I suggest you try another house.”
We both jumped as the door banged shut.
Jake walked off, his alien tail dragging behind him. He could have perhaps said it better, but I knew he hadn’t meant any harm. His allergies meant he couldn’t eat just anything, and if it was in a packet, his mum could check the label. I joined him on the front step of number three just as Melody opened the door. She was wearing a black cat outfit with little black whiskers painted on her cheeks and two triangular ears poking out of her hair.
“MIAOWWWWW!” she shouted and pounced like a cat, her hands splayed out toward us.
“Yeah, yeah, Melody,” said Jake as he shook his booty bag at her.
Melody huffed and then ducked behind the door, returning with an orange bucket full of brightly wrapped sweets.
“Miaow,” she said as I took some. The end of her nose was painted black, and when she saw me looking she wriggled it at me.
Jake took two giant handfuls.
“MIAOW!” she said and snatched the bucket back. She then pretended to lick her paw and clean her ear as she purred.
“Melody? You are so weird,” said Jake. She hissed at him and then shut the door.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” said Jake, looking in his bag. “I’ve barely got anything!”
We turned and slowly walked back to his house, but Jake stopped at the next gate.
“Our mums said not to bother Old Nina. Come on,” I said, continuing on, but Jake ran up the path and stood before the door of the Rectory. He lifted the heavy knocker and banged it three times.
“Jake!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”
I looked at our houses, but there was no outline of our mums anymore. They’d probably seen us making our way home. I quickly ran and joined him just as the large, black door slowly opened.
“Trick or treat,” said Jake, but he said it quietly this time. The old lady’s face was blank as she studied him.
“I said trick or treat!” He shook his bag vigorously.
Old Nina gave a little knowing nod and then went back inside, keeping the door ajar. Jake looked at me and gave me a thumbs-up as I stood staring, openmouthed. He started goofing around, doing a little dance on the step and wiggling his backside toward the house, and then the door suddenly opened again.
“You’d better come in,” she said and then she went back inside, this time leaving the door wide open.
We both looked at each other, and then Jake stepped up into the large, dark hallway, taking his alien mask off. I followed. It took a while for my eyes to adjust in the gloom. I was expecting to see cobwebs and peeling wallpaper, but although it was old-fashioned and dark, the place was clean and tidy. Old Nina had disappeared through a doorway at the end of the hallway, and we slowly edged in the same direction. We walked past the door to the living room and I peeked in. Beside a small gas fire was a wing-backed chair and on the windowsill was the orange lamp, glowing warmly. Jake elbowed me in the ribs and I jumped.
“Look! Who do you think that is?”
Along the wall was a collection of framed photographs, all of the same boy at different ages. In one he gave a toothless grin as he gripped the pole of a carousel horse, in another he studied a butterfly resting on the back of his hand—he looked about my age in that one. There was a photo of his first day at school, holding up a football trophy, wearing a Santa Claus hat with his eyes crossed, and one of him at a field day wearing a big gold medal around his neck. I took off my werewolf mask and studied the photo closest to me. In this one he was standing on a beach, his arms folded against his bare chest as the sand stretched out for miles around him. It must have been windy, as his sandy hair was sticking up in all directions, his nose splattered with freckles and his eyes half-shut as he grinned back at the camera.
“Who do you think he is?” said Jake, studying the photos. “Is he her son? There’re no pictures of him grown up. What happened to him?”
We both looked at each other, and I saw Jake’s throat gulp as we heard Old Nina clattering around in the kitchen.
“Come in here, you two!”
Carrying on along the hall, we stopped in the kitchen doorway. In the corner was a black range cooker, and crouching down, smoke swirling around her, was Old Nina. Wearing some gray oven mitts, she reached down and lifted out a large tray of cakes, which she placed on a mat on the table.
“Ah, there you are!” she said. Taking off her oven mitts, she put her head to one side and stared at Jake.
“Do you know, I think you’ll be just the right size. Just the right size indeed.”
She walked toward us and Jake gripped my arm, his face deathly white as he stared at Old Nina and then at the open oven behind her.
“We’ve gotta get out of here, Matty,” he said between gritted teeth. She got closer and closer and then Jake suddenly turned and ran.
Old Nina stopped in front of me.
“Where’s he going?”
I was frozen to the spot. I wanted to run, but I was worried any sudden movement would mean she’d grab me. She was so close I could see two black hairs on her chin as she rubbed her lips together. Her thin, bony hand reached out, and then she moved toward the kitchen door beside me and took something off a hook. She gave it a shake and held it up.
“No, no, no. It’s no good for you, I’m afraid. Your friend was the perfect size. What a shame he had to rush off.”
It was a boy’s coat. A smart, knee-length navy blue coat with shiny black buttons up the front. She held the coat close to her, rubbing the fabric with her thumb, and for a moment I think she forgot I was there. Then she sighed before hanging it back up on the door.
“Anyway. Would you like a cake?” she said.
As the sun faded on the cul-de-sac, I watched as each front room glowed and flickered simultaneously with the same news report. The same news that I could hear from our TV downstairs.
“… missing child, Teddy Dawson …”
I quietly crept downstairs, listening.
“Today, Teddy’s mother, Melissa Dawson, gave this emotional plea …”
I sat on the middle step, where I could see the large screen. There was a row of people behind a long, white desk, and sitting in the center was Melissa Dawson. She looked very professional in a smart green dress with her dark hair tied back neatly. Speaking from memory, she looked in turn at each of the journalists sitting in front of her as if she were addressing a conference.
“On Monday afternoon, my beautiful baby boy, Teddy, went missing from my father’s yard. I urge anyone with any information as to where he is to please call the police. Anything, even the smallest bit of information, could help find him. So please, no matter how trivial you think it might be, please call.”
She paused for a moment and took a sip of water. Then she looked down at some notes in front of her and began to read, her voice trembling slightly.
“If there is somebody out there who is holding Teddy, they need to give him back to me. Please. They can drop him off at a safe place—a hospital, a church, somewhere he’d be found …”
Her voice cracked and her posture slumped a little.
“He is a very happy, lovely boy. Please … please somebody bring him home to me … He’s only little …”
And with that she put her hand to her mouth and her face crumbled. The professional woman had gone. The policeman beside her spoke up with details I’d heard a million times before.
“Teddy was wearing a pull-up style diaper and a T-shirt with an ice-cream cone picture on the front like this one here, and he was possibly carrying a blue security blanket …”
Mum dropped her head onto Dad’s shoulder as he curled an arm around her and they sat on the sofa, holding each other.
I crept back upstairs to the bathroom and began to wash my hands. I was exhausted and my brain felt cloudy. I concentrated on lathering the soap correctly and covering every patch of skin, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel clean. I rinsed my hands and started again. But after that wash it felt the same. So I started again, and again, and again. Unable to stop, I washed my hands twenty-seven times. I heard the TV switch off downstairs, and I hurried to bed before Mum or Dad could see me.