Demon Storm (4 page)

T
HE OTHER BOYS SEEMED TO SENSE THAT
Ben didn’t want to talk. They said little, but Ben was aware of their sympathy and friendship. He’d never felt so at home here before. Jaz put his hand on Ben’s shoulder as he walked past in the social room. He said nothing – didn’t need to. Charlie smiled sadly across the room at Ben. Others murmured how sorry they were.

Several of the boys looked in on Ben before lights-out. He was just lying in bed, his mind almost blank.

‘You all right?’ Big Jim asked, putting his head round the cubicle curtain.

Ben nodded.

‘If you need anything, just say.’

‘Thanks.’

He thought he’d never get to sleep. But exhaustion crept over him as the rest of the dormitory was still whispering and giggling, fidgeting and settling. He drifted off into a deep,
warm sleep. A sleep where Sam was still there, where the man in the suit had never brought his box, where Miss Haining didn’t sell children to mysterious people on the telephone …

He woke suddenly, still feeling exhausted and tired. It was dark outside his window and the only noise in the dormitory was the collective breathing of the other boys as they slept. Ben sat up in bed. He realised that Miss Haining was the key. She knew who had taken Sam and where she was. He had to confront her and find out what was going on. No one else was going to believe him – not the police, not Mr Magill, no one.

First thing, Ben decided – even before breakfast – he would go over to her room and demand to know what had happened to Sam. Just the thought of talking to her made him feel sick and shaky. But he’d do it – he had to. For Sam.

The window in Ben’s cubicle, above his little sink, looked out over the back field towards the woods behind the home. He kept the window slightly open, except when it was really cold. He had come to know all the sounds that crept in during the night. The distant roar of a train if the wind was in the right direction; the hum of traffic on the main road; owls and bats in the wood; the
clatter from the kitchens as the staff came on duty and started to get breakfast ready.

But the kitchen staff wouldn’t be arriving until after seven. Ben’s watch told him it was just gone six in the morning. And the sound he heard was not from the kitchens.

He knew at once what it was. Footsteps – cautious and measured – outside the window. The crunch of gravel on the narrow path at the back of the home. A noise that might have been a high-pitched giggle.

Ben climbed from his bed and looked out of the window. At first he could see nothing except the dark grey of the early morning. Then, gradually, he made out the shapes in the night – the distant trees of the wood, the expanse of grass, the square outline of the new block … And a man.

He was walking slowly along the edge of the grass. Ben guessed he’d stepped on to the gravel path by mistake, not seeing it in the dark. Now he was moving silently again, heading for the back door into the new block.

Ben couldn’t make out many details. But the man was tall and thin with fair hair and he was wearing a long, loose coat. He looked lopsided, his left shoulder sagging as if under a weight, so
that he walked in a slightly ungainly manner. Ben watched him most of the way to the new block. It wasn’t the man in the suit – he had been much broader, with black hair. So who was he? And what was he up to?

Without really thinking what he was doing, Ben pulled on his slippers and hurried as quietly as he could from the dormitory. He couldn’t be sure that this lopsided man had anything to do with what had happened to Sam, but it would be a coincidence if there wasn’t some connection.

He retrieved his coat from the cupboard under the stairs, slipping it over his pyjamas. Then he ran for the connecting walkway that led to the new block.

As Ben neared the end of the walkway he tiptoed, listening for any sound of the intruder. He thought he heard the strange giggling noise again. Possibly the thump of footsteps somewhere further inside the building. But that could be anyone. Holding his breath, he made his way towards the back door – where the man must have come in, if he’d entered the building.

The sound of footsteps grew louder – slow, measured steps along the corridor leading to the staff quarters.

Ben pressed into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs. The man passed close to him, a distinctive silhouette with his shoulder slightly stooped. Ben held his breath, straining to hear as the man murmured something to himself.

‘You can find her,’ the man said quietly. ‘Off you go, my little friend.’

Ben looked round, but there was no one else – just the man. As he watched, the man seemed to straighten up, raising his shoulder as if a weight had been lifted from it. He stood looking up the stairs for a while. Then he turned and walked slowly away, back down the corridor towards the door he had come through.

For a few moments, Ben hesitated. Should he follow the man? Why had he come here, if only to leave again? And who had he been talking to? Was there someone else with him – someone who was already upstairs? Or was he speaking into a microphone for a mobile phone or something?

Slowly and as quietly as possible, Ben started up the stairs. He had never been in this part of the new block before. He knew that some of the live-in staff had their apartments up here. He was tense and scared, ready to turn and run if he heard anyone coming. He could get into so much trouble …

Somewhere above him, Ben heard what sounded like a door slam or something fall to the floor. He paused, then carefully continued upwards, reaching a landing. There was carpet on the floor here, with several doors leading off.

Far enough, Ben decided. There was nothing going on. No one was here.

Then the screaming started.

It was like when Sam had screamed. The noise rooted Ben to the spot – a woman’s voice, devoid of words and meaning. Containing just fear and pain. Something thumped into one of the doors in front of Ben. He saw the wood rattle in the frame. He shuddered like the door, backing away down the stairs – desperate to turn and run, yet unable to stop looking.

The door was pushed open. It was dark in the apartment behind. A figure staggered out on to the landing – into the light. Miss Haining.

Her greying hair was plastered across her face. Her hands clutched and beat at the air in front of her, as if she was trying to fight off some animal. And she was screaming.

For a moment her eyes latched on to Ben, but he had the feeling she couldn’t see him. Her stare was empty and unfocused. Her face was twisted in an
agonised frenzy. As Ben watched, transfixed, a line of red appeared down Miss Haining’s cheek. As if she’d been scratched. She yelled and spun round, then back again. Her hands were clawing at her own face now as more scratches appeared.

Lights snapped on. The door next to Miss Haining’s started to open. There were running feet somewhere on the floor above.

Ben was sure he felt a slight draught – like something pushing past him on the stairway. Between the screaming and the running feet, he could swear he heard someone giggling.

Then he turned and ran down the stairs. He heard the back door of the new block slam shut as he reached the bottom. He raced as fast as he could to his dormitory and dived into bed.

He didn’t care that he was still wearing his coat and his slippers. He didn’t join the other boys hurrying down to see what was happening when they heard the siren and the ambulance arrived.

He didn’t watch as Miss Haining was carried out on a stretcher … Her face scratched and torn, her eyes staring and wild, a dribble of saliva running from the corner of her slack mouth.

Ben didn’t know that for the rest of her life she would never speak another coherent word. When
he did crawl from under his covers and look out of his window, he was sure he could see a man standing in the distance, on the edge of the woods behind the home. A tall, thin, fair-haired man who walked with one shoulder sagging as if it carried a heavy weight.

T
HE DAY AFTER
MISS
HAINING WAS TAKEN
away in the ambulance, Ben went to see Mr Magill.

There was no one else in the maths room and Mr Magill was doing his marking. He glanced up from his desk to see who it was, then smiled sadly and gestured for Ben to come in.

‘Leaves a big hole, doesn’t it?’

Ben didn’t have to ask what he meant. The words summed up perfectly how Ben felt, and the way that Mr Magill said them – his expression, his tone – made Ben wonder who Mr Magill had lost.

‘Who was he?’ Ben asked.

‘Sorry?’

‘The man in the suit. The man who came that night with the girl and the box. He had a car that looked old but I don’t think it was.’

‘Morgan,’ Mr Magill said.

‘Mr Morgan?’

‘No, the car is a Morgan. Hand-built. Lovely. You’re right, it’s not that old.’

‘But the man …’ Ben insisted. ‘You knew him. You brought him here.’

Mr Magill nodded. ‘And that’s how I know he had nothing to do with Samantha’s disappearance. Nothing at all. He wanted to help her, you know. That’s why he came here.’

‘Can’t he help her now? Can’t you at least tell me who he was and let
me
ask him if he knows what’s happened to Sam?’

Mr Magill stood up. He walked across to Ben and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. ‘He can’t help. I’m so sorry. Really I am.’ Mr Magill looked away, not wanting to meet Ben’s accusing stare. ‘I’m leaving soon,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve got another job, a long way away.’

‘Isn’t that a bit sudden? Is it because of the man with the box? Is it because of what happened to Sam?’

Mr Magill shook his head. ‘No, not at all. A job came up that I was interested in, that’s all.’ He went back to his desk and looked down at the exercise book he was marking. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you, Ben. But the hole that’s been left – it will get smaller.’

He glanced up and just briefly his eyes met Ben’s. They both knew he was lying about that as well.

Every day, Sam was there in Ben’s mind. He thought about her when he got up in the morning and while he ate his breakfast. He wondered what she was doing as he sat through lessons, and where she was when he stood out in the grounds of the home and stared unseeing into the distance.

He spoke to her, though he knew she couldn’t hear. He imagined how she would reply – what she’d say, how she’d look as she said it. Some days he imagined she had her hair tied back. On others it flopped forward, round her face, and she tucked it behind her ear.

But every day, Ben missed her. Every day, his heart felt like it had a heavy, cold stone in it. Every day, the excitement grew as he moved closer to seeing his sister again. On his birthday. By the lake. Like she’d promised.

Two weeks after Sam disappeared, the morning of Ben’s fourteenth birthday was cloudy and grey. But to him it felt as if the sun was shining. He could barely wait until the afternoon. He hadn’t been back to the lake since Sam went – he didn’t want
to be there without her. That would be too sad and empty for words.

He could hardly eat any lunch. As soon as the afternoon lessons were over, he slipped away.

‘Where are you going?’ Jaz asked, seeing Ben get his coat from under the stairs.

‘Out.’

‘Out where?’

Ben shrugged. ‘Just out. That’s all.’

‘But it’s cold. I think it’s raining.’

Ben didn’t reply. He pulled his coat on and headed for the main door.

‘Can I come?’ Jaz asked.

Ben shook his head. ‘I’d rather be on my own.’

‘But it’s your birthday. Are you sure you don’t want company?’

‘Sure.’

Jaz nodded. ‘Take care,’ he said. ‘Don’t get daft. See you later, OK?’

‘OK,’ Ben agreed, and stepped out into the rain.

Ben could feel the anticipation growing within him. He had reached the narrow, muddy path round the lake. In the distance he could see the boarded-up house that he couldn’t remember ever living in. He
walked faster and faster, breaking into a run as he turned the corner and saw the distant silhouette of the rotting wooden jetty.

And through the rain he saw a figure waiting at the end of the jetty, looking out across the lake. Waiting for him.

‘Sam!’ he yelled. ‘I’m here – I’m coming!’

Ben sprinted full pelt down the slight slope towards the shore. He skidded to a halt, almost slipping over in the mud, as he reached the wooden planking. He could remember Sam’s warning a year ago, could hear her voice in his memory as she told him not to go out on the jetty. Then he saw that the figure standing, waiting, was just the broken wooden mooring post sticking up from the broken planks.

Desperate now, Ben looked all round, knowing she was here somewhere, expecting her at any minute to step out of the evening’s gathering darkness and grab him in a hug.

But there was no one. Sam wasn’t there.

Time seemed to stand still. Only the steady beat of the rain on the wood and the water measured the seconds, the minutes – the hours – that Ben sat there on the side of the jetty.

Finally, as the night closed in around him and the rain slowed again to a persistent drizzle, he wiped the water from his eyes and stood up.

‘Hello, Ben,’ Sam said.

And his eyes were immediately full of water again. So many tears he could barely see her, so much relief and love he could barely feel her holding him.

‘I knew you’d come,’ he managed to say between his sobs.

‘I said I would. I’ll always be here for you Ben. I promised. I’ll always be here when you need me. Really I will. I won’t be far away.’

‘You’re not leaving me again?’ Ben said, blinking back the tears.

‘I have to. I’m sorry. So sorry.’

Ben felt his hand slip from Sam’s grasp – like she wasn’t really there at all. ‘Don’t go! I only just found you,’ he gasped.

‘As often as I can, I’ll be here with you.’

She was walking slowly backwards, into the shadows at the edge of the lake.

‘Wait! Where are you going? Where will you be? Where
have
you been? When will I see you again?’

Ben ran to catch her. But Sam was shaking her head, biting back the tears. Swallowed up by the
darkness under the willow trees by the path.

‘I’m sorry, Ben. But I’m glad – so glad I saw you on our special day. Our promise day. And I promise. I
promise
I’ll always be here for you, whatever happens. Remember that.
Believe
that.’

Ben stood in the rain, straining to see his sister’s pale face in the growing darkness, barely able to make out her silhouette. The movement of her hair as she turned and ran away down the path.

‘Happy birthday, Ben. I’ll see you soon.’

He thought he could hear her crying. Maybe that was why she had to leave. She always turned away or hid when she wanted to cry. She never let him see the tears or hear the sobs.

‘Wait!’ Ben yelled. He was running after her, through the shadows, under the drip-drip of the rain off the willow branches. ‘Wait, Sam! I promise too. Always – we’ll be together always, whatever happens.’

The path was sludge under his feet. The tears were rain in his eyes. And Ben was a shadow in the darkness, running alone.