Nightmares in the Dreamhouse

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Nightmares in the Dreamhouse Page 8

by David Churchill


  But while Matthew described the firework John lay still, his eyes closed and his face pale. Only a slight dark stubble of beard gave any colour at all.

  Gary's gone all the way down the attics, right to the last one. But there's people in there, the ones who won't move out, and he put the bricks back to leave them private. He was a bit upset about them. He's found a loft with all books and comics in and Abby's going up there with him tomorrow ‘cos she's finished with her horror room now...

  He wriggled on the bed as his mind went to his own room, his picture - the one that would set John flying again, alive and awake, calling down from the blue sky. Suddenly hopeful, he looked at him, as if the thought alone could be enough to make John open his eyes at last, and yawn, and stretch, the way he always used to when he woke, and smile and sit up.

  But there didn't seem to be any change at all; only the same even breathing and the beating pulse at the side of his neck.

  ... I've nearly finished what I'm doing for you in the house. It's the final stages now. Then you've got to come and see it. You've GOT to. There isn't much time left. Karen and Roy are about again. They nearly got Cherry, really close to the house. She had to chuck a cat at them to get away - it was that bad! So they're closing in on us. There's things I haven't told you. You know that time a lot of straw caught fire at the farm down the canal. It could have killed the horses they give rides on to handicapped kids. Roy knew all about it before anyone else did.

  A dazzling burst of green light and a rattle of explosions made Matthew look quickly out of the window to see bright red stars arching out and downwards through the night sky.

  He kept on about that fire. He was really excited. I tried to do a painting of the horses being rescued, but their legs are hard to get right. I reckon it could have been him ... but I don't know. I didn't think he was that mad... but he could be...

  Matthew went on talking, looking out of the window, watching for the next bright explosion.

  The others don't want to do any more in the house because they've all sort of finished and they're getting bored, plus Roy and Karen seem to be closing in on the place. But they're everso good and they said they'll come for a couple more days so I can finish my picture for you. I said I'd go by myself if they wouldn't and I would too if I had to but it'd be so scary I don't know how long I could stay there. I'm going to meet them now and we have to creep there really carefully. I don't know what would happen if they caught us in there. But it's only for a little while then you can come too. You might find the cave entrance a bit of a squeeze but you've been potholing so you can do that...

  Still talking, Matthew turned from the window to look back at the bed. For one heart-stopping moment he thought he had just missed something. A change. Something different. Not a movement, but... what? Had a sudden trace of colour seeped into John's pale cheek and then gone? Was there a brief surge in his breathing? What was it that he had just missed, as he turned? Or was it just the hopeless hopefulness that he lived with day after day after day, and he was starting to see things that weren't there at all?

  “OK then Matt? I hope those fireworks aren't going to keep on all night. It'll be noisy enough on Saturday. Still, we get a good view over the town from up here.”

  Nurse Sharon, just inside the door, looked across to Matt as he glanced, startled, up at her. She saw the expression on his face and turned quickly to John.

  “What's up? Is something the matter?” With two steps she was at the bedside.

  “I don't know. I just thought... he looked... different... ”

  Alert, professional, Sharon reached for John's wrist and felt his pulse, while intently studying his face.

  After a few silent moments she said, “Did anything happen? Did he move?”

  “No... no... it was just - a firework went off and I looked out at it and when I turned back I thought he seemed a bit more - ” He nearly said “alive” but he couldn't get the word out because of what the opposite was. “A bit more... like him,” he said at last.

  “What were you saying to him?”

  “Oh, only about some kids we know... about a den... ”

  She slid her fingers down to hold John's hand gently in her own. Her face had lost its intent look and was soft and kind.

  “I don't think he's quite ready yet, Matt,” she said. “Not this time. But I believe you, and we'll keep a special eye on him, just in case. In fact I'll give him a wash and shave right now. His bristles certainly keep moving. Then he'll be nice and smart when your Mum comes up.”

  “She's not coming tonight,” Matthew said. “Not ‘til Sunday. I think she's afraid of the fireworks.”

  “Oh, I see. I see,” Sharon said. “Pity. I wonder if someone ought to... ” and as she tailed off thoughtfully, Matthew had a great and sudden urge to be out of the hospital and back in his room. His fingers trembled for the feel of the chalk sticks. Never mind the people in the end house. Forget about Karen and Roy. They had nothing at all to do with John. All that mattered was finishing the last picture, and John waking up to see it, and then Mum would be all right and everything would be perfect.

  “I'll... I'll go now then,” he said. “See you tomorrow... ”

  “That's great,” Sharon smiled back at him. She paused before going on. “The doctors - all of us - think you're John's best – ” She was going to say “hope” but stopped herself. Matthew had already completed the sentence in his head though. “ - John's best treatment,” she went on. “We think it's marvellous the way you come and talk to him everyday, week after week. You're the best medicine in the world.”

  Afraid that he was going to cry, Matthew slid quickly down off the bed, said “See you,” partly to her and partly to John, then headed for the stairs. He couldn't bear to stand and wait for the lift.

  The picture was calling him very strongly now. So strongly that he had no idea at all that from the moment he stepped out into the street he was being watched and followed.

  He didn't see the figure lurking in the shadow of the bus shelter, who had dropped a cigarette end to the pavement when Matthew left the hospital driveway, and who waited until he turned down the hill before crossing the road and running quietly to the corner. The moment that he turned into the alley the figure ran again.

  Two cold, narrow eyes stared intensely across the road and into the ruined gardens. They saw the small boy in the black jacket moving through the shadows, clambering over a heap of rubble, pushing between grasses and nettles. And, just, they saw him stoop, heave at something that was out of sight, and then disappear.

  So that's the game is it, Karen thought. Roy'll be really pleased with me over this one. He'll want to look into it, I reckon. So long as he doesn't do anything too stupid. I'll go and get him. Thanks a lot, Titchy.

  26. and the chalk dust stuck to the sweat on his face as his hand worked faster and faster

  “That looks dangerous,” Matthew said, as he poked his head round the door of the cattery.

  Cherry glanced up and smiled. The scissors in her hand flashed in the light and the mass of stripy orange and brown and white fur in her lap took the chance to leap off and stretch, rasping its claws along the floor.

  “Fluffy gets all knotted up - I have to cut the tangles out,” she explained. “She was in a horrible state when she came first. She's everso good, aren't you Fluffs,” and the cat arched its back and rubbed itself against her jeans.

  Matthew had lost count of how many cats Cherry had attracted. It was as if they were passing a message round to all the strays in town. She didn't need to go looking for them - they found her and for some reason they all loved her. He didn't really think she was a witch, like Abby said once, but it was a mystery.

  There were several in the room now, curled in boxes, and even as he stood there the fat black one streaked into the room and ran across his feet to Cherry to quiver against her leg.

  “What's all the panic about?” she asked, scooping it up in her arms. “You're all shivery and y
ou forgot the limp. I'm forgiven though, am I. Come on then puss, you deserve it.”

  She offered a chocolate drop from her pocket, which was gobbled down with quick upward tilts of the big, glossy head.

  “You know this one,” she said to Matthew. “It's the one that beat up Karen and Roy - when they tried to get me. My protector.”

  “Must have knocked them flat,” Matthew said. “They wouldn't really do much to us though, would they?” he went on. “I mean, not really. Are you frightened?”

  “I don't know. I don't like the thought that they're out there somewhere. My Dad says the only thing you need to be afraid of is fear itself. I try not to think about them. It was horrible in school that night. Roy can't ever do anything like that to us again but I might not have my brave bodyguard with me next time they catch me by myself.”

  She stroked the cat gently, feeling it begin to relax and the first hint of a purr developing.

  “Matt,” she said, a bit uncertainly, “I haven't see your room yet. Could I... could I have a peep?”

  Matthew realised suddenly that he didn't mind at all; nothing could put him off now. He had been working so hard and for so long, all on his own, and at last he had reached the final stage, like he told John. Some company, specially Cherry, would be nice.

  “Come on,” he said. “Bring the moggy and the scissors if you like. Stay for a bit. We can work together.”

  “Great,” Cherry said. “It was getting too quiet down here all by myself. Abby's gone up into the attics with Gary and I was starting to think about Karen suddenly coming through the door - stupid things like that!”

  She carefully disentangled the black cat's claws from her collar and put it on the floor beside her. Then she stood up and bent to gather the fluffy one. Matthew picked up the scissors and Cherry grinned at him over the cat's warm back. He realised how much he enjoyed her cheerful face. As they went out black one followed them closely, as if it didn't want to be left alone.

  Reaching his room he pushed open the door, let Cherry in, plus the two cats, and closed it behind her. Then he stood back and looked, and let the colours swamp him. Brilliant greens and golds of the downland ridge; an azure sky, shading deeper as it rose from the horizon; small, dark figures silhouetted against it, and the scarlet, bat-like shape, poised across the blue, waiting now for the final strokes that would bring movement and life into the human form outlined beneath it... and so much more besides. If only it was good enough.

  Cherry was turning slowly, full of wonder and admiration. She said, “Wow!” then looked at his rapt face and didn't go on. She felt how worked up he was and understood better what Abby had been trying to say. A bit of company wouldn't do him any harm, she thought. She gently took the scissors from his fingers and quietly slid down in a corner, beginning to work again over the tangled fur of the big fluffy cat. The black one, now recovered from whatever had scared it, curled against her leg and went to sleep.

  Matthew murmured, “It's got to be soon,” but didn't answer when Cherry said, “Sorry?” Then he reached for the box of chalks, climbed two or three steps and set to work. Soon, the flying figure took strength and detail as he coloured in arms and shoulders in the black and yellow gear that John had been wearing. He worked swiftly and surely. As his hand followed the lines that he had sketched in he was muttering softly, “Come on John. Come on John.”

  Cherry looked up and watched him, with real sympathy in her face, but she didn't try to interrupt.

  He wasn't thinking. It was more like praying. Or making a spell. “Come on John!” he repeated, and the chalk dust stuck to the sweat on his face as his hand worked faster and faster.

  27. it's them. Them two. They're here!

  “Oh this is fantastic Gary!” Abby had whispered as she first balanced carefully on the bits of different-sized pieces of wood that Gary had laid out, like a catwalk, across the joists of their attic. “I've never been in one before. Are there any bats?”

  “I hope not,” Gary said. “It's great though, isn't it. I was a bit scared at first but I got over that. I've joined lots of pieces of wire and the light goes all the way now. You're not supposed to just twist the wires together, but they're all taped up so there isn't any left showing. I had to do the plug for the light socket properly though. And it worked. Don't step on it or it'll pull apart and leave us in the dark.

  As they carefully trod across the loft, with Gary holding the old table lamp, the shadows of the chimneybreast and the lines of the rafters moved too.

  “See, here's the first hole I made,” he said, and Abby saw the neat stack of crumbly bricks and above them a gaping entrance into what must be the attic of the next house along the road. She moved closer so that she could look over his shoulder, with the rafters arching up to a point above her head. It was like looking into a cave with just a wobbly pool of brightness where the lamp shone through. She saw a catwalk leading across into the darkness.

  “Go on,” she said. “Don't stop. I want to see it all.”

  Gary handed her the light and clambered over the low wall that he had left. Abby passed him the light, pushed the lead to one side and squeezed over to join him.

  “Oh yes!” she said. “I like this Gar. “You must have worked really hard to get all those bricks out.”

  “I made some tools,” Gary said, pleased at the effect his efforts were having. “Out of bits of metal from the dump. It's a good job the mortar's soft though. Some was hard and I couldn't bang much ‘cos of the noise. But I got good at it.”

  Abby crouched, sliding the attic trap door to one side. She wriggled onto her stomach so that she could peer down at the landing and stairs below. Gary pointed the lamp past her and she took in the peeling walls and the bare staircase with dirty cream paint on the treads where the narrow carpet hadn't fitted from side to side. All the doors were shut so there was no hint as to what lay behind them.

  Abby whispered - the place made her whisper - “This is the best place I have ever been in my whole life. Why didn't you say it was like this?”

  “I did,” Gary said proudly. “There's all furniture in that room there... a wardrobe and a chest. I was afraid to look inside them though, just in case! I wasn't that brave.”

  “Abby looked up at him in surprise. “You didn't... you didn't go down there did you? Not by yourself? How did you - ”

  “I dragged the ladder up here,” he said, “and put it down onto the landing. I didn't like it, but I did it. Just into one room. Then I came out quick and shut the door and got back up here.”

  Looking at Abby he saw real admiration in her face. “Actually,” he went on, trusting her to take him seriously, “Like I said, I don't seem to get scared like I used to. Not since I've been doing all this. I have liked it even though it's been a bit hard and scary sometimes. But I knew you were all somewhere close. It was weird down in there. I thought I could get trapped... but it was all right. I wish I'd tried your room now.”

  “You're amazing, you are,” Abby said. “Just think, I could have a whole house of horror down there - or something else. I'm a bit tired of horror, actually, to be honest. It's got boring. Anyway, let's see some more. I'm going to be in a right state though. Isn't it dirty!”

  “It comes in through the slates, I think,” Gary said. “Must be over a hundred years of dust up here.”

  “I shall have to tell Aunty that we had practical archaeology for homework.”

  Gary looked down on her face in the lamplight. You look like a coal miner to me,” he said, grinning at her. “I could have used one of those helmets with lights on.”

  She scrambled up to stand by him on the rocking wood pieces that he had worked so hard to find and drag up the ladder and over the bricks.

  “Where's the one with the books and all?” she asked.

  “Next but one. We'd better go quiet now, ‘cos of the people on the end. I don't know how much sounds travel.”

  He lead the way again as they crossed the next attic and clambered thr
ough into the one after that. As she was half way over the bricks he suddenly switched off the lamp.

  “Don't muck about Gar,” she hissed. “I can't see where to put my foot.”

  “It's OK,” he said. “Just do it.”

  Abby thought, “It's really funny being bossed about by Gary,” but she did as she was told and carefully eased her way down to the ground, feeling firm wood under her feet but keeping her face to the wall so she had something to hold on to.

  “Now turn round,” he ordered, switching on the light.

  She did, and gasped.

  “Brilliant!” she said. “Gary, you're a famous explorer.”

  She looked appreciatively around the room. Someone must have used it as a den once, she thought. There was a proper floor, mostly covered with old rugs. There was a cushion that looked as if it had been placed by the wall for sitting on while reading. And there were three tea-chests - two looked as if they were full of books while the third obviously had bundles of comics tied with string. A few comics were out on the rug, where Gary had quickly inspected the hoard the day before.

  A flash of bright green light drew her eyes upwards. There was a glass skylight immediately over her head and she saw the stars from the burst zoom across the rectangle of glass.

  Abby felt she was in a magic world. Gary had been so clever, she thought. She picked up a comic that was by her foot. “Knockout,” she read. I've never heard of this one. It must be older than Aunty! Hey, what about this page - Mrs Entwhistle and her little lad, Ernie... ”she snorted with laughter... “and his pet worm!”

 

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