Strangers at the Door: Twelve unsettling tales of horror

by Christopher Henderson

  The gist of the project had been Miss Kennedy’s own idea, Will remembered now. Guy had read a Guardian article extolling her ideas. That had been why he’d approached the school with his suggestion of a competition, offering a handful of cut-price DNA analyses as an exciting extension of the family tree idea. The headmaster had leapt at the chance, and – as Guy had known they would – the newspapers had loved the genetics angle, giving both St Margaret’s and YourGeneticRoots some great publicity. The upshot was that five pupils had won what was in Will’s opinion a terrific prize, and from the look of the children’s work, their fellow classmates had been equally inspired.

  They were certainly hard at work now. Their heads were down as they concentrated on drawing their maps. Will gazed around, wondering which of the boys was Daniel Sellis.

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’ Miss Kennedy was suddenly beside him, looking up with bright eyes. She barely came up to his shoulders and yet it was Will who felt the smaller.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming,’ she continued. ‘Judy said you were bringing over the rest of the results?’

  ‘Yes, right here.’ Will hefted the weight of his shoulder bag to show her, and instantly felt foolish. Of course it was the results that were in there. What did she think he was carrying around? His packed lunch?

  ‘That’s wonderful! We were all impressed with the talk you gave us the other week, and the children were very excited with this whole DNA science and the idea of finding out about their prehistoric families. In fact, we’ve already been doing some work based on the first couple of results you sent over. They came in yesterday’s post.’

  She indicated the wall opposite the door. Copies of the YourGeneticRoots explanatory posters hung there beside an enormous map of the world, pinned to which were several dozen pictures, papers and cut-out cardboard arrows that no doubt summarized the stories of the ancestral backgrounds revealed. Even at this distance, Will recognized the familiar patterns of arrows leading out of Africa and across the Red Sea, dividing and sub-dividing to sweep northwards through the Fertile Crescent and spread throughout Eurasia, or to follow the coastal superhighway east, the arrows tracing the various routes taken by early modern humans as they had gradually populated the planet.

  ‘That looks brilliant,’ said Will, genuinely impressed. ‘I’m really glad they liked it.’

  He pulled the results parcel out of his bag and handed it over. ‘So, that’s all the rest of them now. We got nearly all of the analyses to work in the end, but I’m afraid there was one we just couldn’t get a result on. It happens sometimes, unfortunately – the sample gets a little bit contaminated and, well, the tests are pretty sensitive, so, you know. Sorry.’

  ‘I’m sure you did your best. Whose was it that didn’t work?’

  ‘Daniel Sellis. His maternal testing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s such a pity. Daniel was so excited when he received the details about his father’s ancestors yesterday, how they’d had to shelter in caves in Spain during the Ice Age and everything. You should have seen him! He couldn’t wait to show them to his mother.’ She sighed.

  It was now or never, thought Will. ‘I, ah … I suppose I’d better let Daniel know. If you could just point him out to me ...?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Will. I’m afraid he’s not here. His mother phoned this morning to say he wasn’t feeling well.’ She frowned. ‘That’s not like him at all, actually. I can’t remember the last time he missed a day.’

  Will’s fists tightened with frustration. Of all the days for Sellis to come down with the lurgy it had to be today! Before leaving the office, Will had slipped a spare testing kit into his jacket pocket, and on the bus on the way over, he’d put together a rough strategy. He’d been thinking that he could offer to do a favour for the boy – or for the school, or Miss Kennedy, whichever way of phrasing it seemed most fitting when the time came – and take a couple of new swabs from the boy right here in the class. That plan was dead in the water now.

  He thought rapidly. Could he leave the swabs with Miss Kennedy for when Daniel came back to school? The procedure itself was simple – a quick scrape against the inside of the cheek was all that was needed to collect the necessary cells – and he felt sure Miss Kennedy would be happy to help. But the instructions contained in the kit clearly stated that, once used, the swabs were to be sealed immediately and returned to the company for analysis as quickly as possible to prevent the samples deteriorating. Insisting that Miss Kennedy hold onto them until Will personally came back to fetch them might look a little odd, and he didn’t want to risk any word getting back to the office.

  Perhaps it would be best to delay for a few days, tell Miss Kennedy he’d be happy to come back next week and bring another testing kit with him then. Sellis’s apparent interest in the project might work in Will’s favour, giving him a ready excuse for performing this ‘favour’. He’d have to give the school his personal mobile number to contact him on, but that would be okay. Yes, he would –

  ‘Would you excuse me a moment, Will?’

  A pair of puzzled looking boys, neither of whom seemed especially academically inclined, had raised their arms, having encountered some insurmountable problem in their task. Probably didn’t have the proper colouring pencils for their maps, thought Will.

  As Miss Kennedy navigated through the desks towards them, Will’s eye was caught by another section of the project work on the wall beside him. Printed mugshots he now recognized as some of the pupils sitting in this room gurned at him, names felt-tipped in varying degrees of neatness on accompanying strips of card. Around each face were one or more photographs of the same child standing in front of what was presumably their home, and the pictures had been grouped in clusters besides details of old and modern Ordnance Survey maps, and black-and-white photographs that looked to have been photocopied from local history books.

  One photograph portrayed a sombre church that clung to the foot of a ponderous Neo-Gothic spire. A card above it bore the name ‘Daniel Sellis’. There was a photograph pinned to it, showing a sharp-faced boy with dark hair and vivid green eyes. Seeing his face, Will vaguely recalled showing him how to use the mouth swab the other week.

  Another photograph showed the same boy standing with a serious expression in what was presumably his home’s small back garden. The top of the same ugly church spire was just visible in the picture, towering over the houses that backed onto the garden. The spire looked familiar: Will felt certain he’d spotted it not so long ago, from the top deck of the bus on his way here. Judging by the other photos pinned up in this section, around half a dozen of Sellis’s fellow classmates also lived in the general neighbourhood of this church. Will scanned the papers, looking for some clue as to the church’s name.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  Too late. Will considered asking Miss Kennedy about the church, but would that look strange? If it turned out he really was onto something then he wanted to keep it to himself for as long as possible while he got to grips with all the implications. Best not to draw any unwarranted attention to himself. Not yet.

  He made his decision. He could always get back in touch with the school later if necessary, but if possible he would avoid making the school aware he wanted to look further into the Sellis boy’s ancestry. If Will could find and speak to the boy’s family directly he could maybe spin them some yarn about why another sample was needed. Maybe scare them with some fluff about having seen some sort of medical problem in the initial sample – just an outside chance, but better to be safe and double-check, etc – and later giving them the all-clear and leaving them none the wiser as to what he’d really wanted the DNA for.

  It was do-able. He just needed to find out where Sellis lived.

  Looking at the photographs he thought he might be able to do just that.

  * * * *

  Finding the church proved more difficult than Will had expected. He’d had no problem spotting the spire again from the bus and had got off at the next s
top, confidently setting off in that direction. Once at ground level, however, the terrain proved hillier than expected and he was unable to catch more than the tiniest glimpse every now and again as he roamed seemingly endless rows of identikit terraced housing that rose and fell in drab swells.

  Accessing a street map on his phone hadn’t helped. Surprisingly, there was no marker for a church anywhere around here, and after almost two hours of wandering Will had been on the verge of heading home when he rounded the corner of a grubby side road and unexpectedly arrived at the spire.

  It loomed above him. The church itself had gone, perhaps a victim of Nazi bombing during the war, leaving the monstrous spire standing forlorn at the end of a small rectangular park. Two rows of dark-leaved rose bushes crouched at regular intervals along the centre of the curious space, living ghosts of the pillars that had once divided nave from aisles.

  Will sat on a bench beneath a lone elm in the corner of the park and logged into an online directory. The signal was weak here, and he had trouble coaxing the site to work. Eventually, he managed to pull up a list of families with the surname Sellis, and he found one entry against a likely seeming postcode. Checking that address – number 28 Woodcrest Way – against the map verified that the road lay just a few moments’ walk from here.

  The thrill this success brought was quickly muted by guilty murmurings from Will’s conscience, but he pushed the doubts down. Yes, this might feel a little like stalking, but his actions were perfectly justifiable in the pursuit of scientific knowledge.

  Shadows were spreading across the park. A thin young man cycled slowly past, hooded head turning to view Will’s phone with hidden eyes. It was time to leave. Will took a last look at the map, slipped his bag over his shoulder and hurried across the road in the direction of Woodcrest Way.

  Two minutes later he was looking at the front door of number 28. The frame’s glossy black paint was beginning to peel here and there and would need retouching in another year or two, and the straggly weeds attempting to wrest back control of the paved front garden would soon need to be pulled out, but ultimately there was little to distinguish this two-storey exemplar of 1930s suburban housing from the hundreds of similar properties Will had walked past this afternoon. He took a deep breath, mentally rehearsed what he was going to say, and pressed the bell.

  The woman who answered looked to be in her early thirties and was, if not exactly beautiful, then undeniably striking. Her dark hair had been fashionably styled so as to soften a face that was a little too angular, and her eyes were captivating. They caught the dying afternoon sunlight, sparkling like emeralds: hot jungle light frozen in cut diamond.

  Will’s carefully worded opening line evaporated.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Sellis?’

  She looked back, impassive, ready to close the door.

  ‘I’ve, um, I’ve come from St Margaret’s. The school. I was just wondering how Daniel was doing. Is he feeling any better?’

  ‘Daniel’s not here.’

  ‘Oh. I thought, that is, I was told he was off sick. Will he be back later?’

  ‘He’s with his father.’

  ‘His father? Ah … where - ?’

  ‘We are separated.’

  She spoke with a slight accent Will couldn’t quite place. He wondered whether it was another inheritance from her mysterious ancestors and itched to ask where her family originated from. But that was a potentially incendiary question these days: people were so quick to take offence at any perceived suggestion of racial intolerance. Somewhere in Eastern Europe was a possibility, he thought, or perhaps the Indian sub-continent. Then again, that peculiar chewing of the vowels might have been a vestige of a Scandinavian influence. He had no idea, really. What accent there was lingered so faintly it was difficult to catch, and her unusual facial features and indeterminate skin tone gave no clear visual clues regarding her biological heritage. Will was drawn back to those eyes staring at him: he’d never before encountered anyone with eyes that green. He wondered if they might in fact be tinted contact lenses.

  ‘It was all cleared with the school. What is this about, Mr -?’ She voiced the question as if it were a challenge.

  ‘Will Banner.’ He fumbled out his wallet and handed over a business card. She looked at it for a long moment, then she was staring at him again. It was impossible to read what she was thinking.

  ‘I thought you were from the school.’

  ‘Ah, no … I mean, yes I have just come from the school. But I’m not actually ….’ He started again. ‘I work for a company called YourGeneticRoots, and I’ve been helping Daniel’s class with a special project they’re doing. Actually, you probably already know about it. Miss Kennedy – Alice – Daniel’s teacher was telling me how interested Daniel was with the results of the DNA analysis we did for him.’

  For the first time, Will saw a reaction in Mrs Sellis’s expression, but it vanished before he was able to recognize it. It might have been impatience, or it might have been anger. Or concern. Whatever it had been, this conversation wasn’t going quite as he’d hoped. He re-gathered himself and gave his friendliest smile.

  ‘The thing is, Mrs Sellis, we were all tremendously disappointed that we weren’t able to help Daniel get both sets of results. While we’re sure he’s delighted with the story about his paternal ancestry, we know it would mean so much more to him if we were able to tell him all about his mother’s ancestry as well. That’s why I’m here.’

  Mrs Sellis’s fingers tightened their grip on the black door frame, the pads growing bloodless beneath carefully manicured – or possibly false – nails. ‘I don’t understand. Daniel told me you couldn’t get the other test to work so you’d abandoned it. Why are you here?’

  ‘Well, we don’t like to give up on these things too easily, you know?’ He flashed another smile. ‘So I was having a word with my boss earlier, and he agreed that it would be brilliant to see all the pupils get their answers, so I’m here really to let Daniel know we’re not going to be giving up on him.’

  There was that look again, a crease between those startling eyes. It came and went so fast Will barely had time to register it.

  ‘There won’t be any charge,’ he added, hoping to reassure her, ‘and it will only take a second.’ He patted his bag. ‘I’ve got everything right here.’

  Mrs Sellis glanced over Will’s shoulder. Then she stepped to the side, leaving the doorway unguarded.

  ‘Come in.’

  Will thanked her and walked in.

  Just inside the hallway a small suitcase, bulging at the zips, rested in the angle of the walls. A faint, musty smell invoked a memory of the time Will had returned to his old student flat after the holidays to discover the fridge had broken and its few contents had spoiled.

  Mrs Sellis gestured towards the nearest doorway and Will stepped through into what turned out to be a cheaply but comfortably decorated living room. Amber light filtered through crisp net curtains, falling against the printed flowers of a pale green wallpaper and onto sand-coloured pine floorboards. The front door clicked shut and Will sensed rather than heard Mrs Sellis pad lightly into the room behind him.

  ‘Please,’ she said, ‘sit anywhere.’

  Choosing the closest armchair, Will slipped off his shoulder bag as he sat down, and took out a large plastic envelope stuffed with papers. As well as a copy of Daniel’s paternal ancestry reports, he had brought along several glossy promotional posters that extolled YourGeneticRoots’s services with colourful maps, dramatic photographs of exotic landscapes and white-coated scientists handling test tubes, and the most enticing advertising copy Guy’s money had been able to buy. Surely he’d be able to pique Mrs Sellis’s interest with all this. Who wouldn’t be fascinated?

  The one small coffee table in the room was dominated by a heavy crystal bowl, purely there as decoration if the absence of fruit were anything to go by. Looking around, Will was at a loss as to where he could spread out his papers.


  ‘Let me clear some space for you.’ Mrs Sellis took the bowl and carried it towards the doorway. ‘I’ll put this in the kitchen for now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Will, arranging everything on the newly cleared surface.

  ‘So,’ he called out in his friendliest tone, ‘I hope I’m not keeping you from your holidays?’

  When she didn’t immediately reply, he added: ‘Your suitcase, I mean. You off anywhere nice? Or have you just got back?’

  Will was wondering whether she might not have heard him properly and whether he ought to repeat himself when she called out: ‘A short vacation, yes. With Daniel away, I thought I would take advantage.’

  ‘Anywhere nice?’

  ‘I was thinking perhaps the seaside,’ floated back her reply. She didn’t sound all that thrilled by the prospect.

  Silence ebbed back into the room. Seconds ticked past as Will straightened his display and waited for the woman to return. He was growing desperate to learn just what secrets lay locked away within Daniel’s DNA. Despite his best efforts to hold his imagination in check, to remind himself that he was a scientist and that he should be thinking about this with cool detachment, the thought kept returning that somewhere, encoded deep within the microscopic strands of molecules that defined the boy’s body, was a message, a message that might very well record previously unsuspected information about the story of humanity’s evolution. A message that he would be the one to discover, that would thereafter forever be associated with him, ensuring that the name Will Banner – soon-to-be Doctor Will Banner – would be passed along to future generations. It would be his own little slice of immortality.

  And as that thought popped into his mind, so did another, one that was glaringly obvious now it was in view. Whatever the mysterious code was that Will had discovered in Daniel’s DNA, it had been passed down to him by his mother; Daniel’s mother literally embodied that same mystery. Will didn’t actually need Daniel at all, he only needed a tiny amount more of the same mitochondrial DNA that Daniel had inherited, and Mrs Sellis was as good a source as her son.