The Ghost Box

Chapter 8

Alone

“What do you think?” Sarah’s mom turned in front of the mirror.

Sarah said, “Very nice.”

“Well, you could be a little more positive,” Mom said with a sigh.

“It’s great. It looks really good on you.”

Mom’s dress was red, and long. Over it she wore a purple and red coat, very off-beat, very arty. Her hair was piled up and strands of it dangled in curls. She looked every inch the famous sculptor.

“I hope so. It’ll have to do.” She smiled. “I wish you could come, Sarah, I really do, but the invitation was only for two. We’ll be back around ten tomorrow morning. Are you sure there isn’t someone who you’d like to have to stay for the night? Olly, or Kate?”

“No. Not really.”

“I don’t like to think of you here on your own.”

Sarah gave a shrug. “Matt will be here.”

“No, he won’t.” Mom put her wallet and some lipstick in her purse. “He’s out late with some friends tonight, Gareth said.”

Sarah frowned. Sitting on the window seat, she pulled her knees up and hugged them tight. In the window she watched her own reflection, and beyond it the autumn golds and reds of the landscape. She found herself wishing that Matt was staying home, and that shocked her. Why was she so nervous? She had the key. The boy would be free. It would all be all right.

Downstairs, Gareth was waiting by the fire. He had a blue suit on, and a purple tie that matched Mom’s coat.

“Fantastic,” he said as she came in.

Mom giggled. “You’re not so bad, either.”

They grinned, and Mom arranged his tie. Sarah watched them and almost smiled. Then she realized and gave a scowl. She’d have to watch herself. She was getting soft.

Later, standing at the door and waving goodbye with the dogs panting beside her, she watched the car reverse and vanish up the road until only its red tail-light showed.

Then that went too. She was alone.

For a moment she listened.

The darkness was damp and windy. She could hear the shed door creaking and branches being stirred, and far off, the murmur of traffic on the road.

She had never been in the house alone at night before. Suddenly she became aware of how lonely it was. The next neighbors were at the farm three fields away.

Jess nuzzled her hand.

She turned. “All right, girl. I’m coming.”

There was no sign of Matt, so she locked up and fed the dogs and ate dinner and went to bed.

For a long time she lay awake, waiting, then dozed and woke up and dozed again, until in one sudden second she opened her eyes and stared into her pillow.

He was here.

She heard him. Heard a soft slither in the room, smelled that leafy, damp stench. Under the sheets she closed her eyes and breathed a prayer. She was stiff, her body sheened with sweat. Terror hammered under her ribs.

He said, “Sarah.”

Slowly she sat up and saw him.

He was sitting on the stool of her vanity table, a shadow in the darkness. One stripe of light from the moon slanted over him, showing her the angle of his jaw, a glint of the copper ring in his ear.

He stood up and came closer. She saw that leaves and clods of mud fell from him. She snapped the lamp switch on. Nothing happened. The room stayed dark.

“Where is it?” he said.

She knelt up among the crumpled bedclothes. The house was silent. Even the wind seemed to have dropped, and there was no sound from the dogs.

“What have you done to Jack and Jess?”

He shook his head. “They were afraid. The front door opened and they ran out. You’ll have to go looking for them in the morning. Where is it, Sarah? Where’s my key?”

All she wanted was to end this. She slid her hand under the pillow and felt for it. She found the cold touch of metal and pulled the key out.

His eyes lit with a strange light. He held out his hand for it but she said, “You’ll need the box. It’s there, on the desk.”

With a swift movement he turned, took the silver box and brought it over. His hands stroked it, leaving muddy smears on the perfect oak leaves. He sat on the bed and looked at her. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

“Do ghosts dream?” she whispered.

“All day. While the world turns and people work and talk and forget us, the ghosts dream.” He reached out and took the key from her. “And now my dream will come true.”

He put the key into the lock and said in a sly voice, “You must turn it for me. I’m a ghost. I can’t.”

So she turned the key.

Or tried to.

It wouldn’t move. She tried again, shook the box, jammed the key in tight.

It wouldn’t turn.

The boy snatched it from her. He forced it, struggled with it.

And when he looked up, his pinched face was white and drawn. “You’ve tricked me!”

“No! I – ”

“You’ve tricked me. You should never have done that, Sarah.”

In terror, she grabbed at him. Her fingers closed on cold, empty air. But before she could say anything, she looked past him and saw Matt, standing in the open door of her room, holding up a slim, bright key.

“She didn’t trick you,” Matt said. “I did.”