Eleven New Ghost Stories (30 page)

Though he trusted his new
friend, Benjamin still felt nervous and unsure.

“I was right about Miss Claxton
and Penelope Green wasn’t I?”

Benjamin nodded.

“Then trust me again on this.
Just write these words down, put them in an envelope and drop it
off at his cottage. Then all you have to do is watch what
happens.”

Benjamin didn’t understand what
the boy expected to happen, but he did what he was told, trusting
that his new friend knew what he was doing. He took an envelope
from his father’s desk and wrote down the message on a sheet of
writing paper. He sealed the envelope and took it to the vicar’s
house early the next morning, being as careful as possible not to
be spotted on the way there or back, should the vicar later enquire
if anyone had been seen going up the path to his cottage. He posted
the letter, feeling not too confident that it would produce the
effect he desired.

As it turned out, he did not
have to wait for long for the effect of the letter to be felt. That
very afternoon, he returned home from playing down near the stream
when he noticed the vicar’s bicycle leant up against the wall by
the front door.

Benjamin was canny – he knew
that if he were to announce his return, he might well miss what the
fuss was. He instead crept inside, and sure enough, heard raised
voices coming from the kitchen. Instead of going straight there
from the hall, he crept around into the living room and into the
dining room, where he could listen without being seen.

His mother sounded distraught;
“Someone could just be playing games with you!”

“It’s blackmail, pure and
simple,” said the vicar. “You swore you would say nothing to
anyone.”

“I have told no one. Why would I
want anyone to know such shameful things?”

“It was a long time ago. I was
possessed of some evil. I was a different man, lost and
confused.”

“So I’ve heard you say, so many
times. But it never goes away, does it?” Benjamin’s mother started
to cry, but rebuffed any attempt by her brother to comfort her.
“Putting on a collar and preaching the Lord doesn’t make it go
away!” she shouted at him.

“Why shouldn’t it?” he cried. “I
have given him my repentance; dedicated my heart and soul to the
church, I have done everything I can.”

“But what you did after…”

“It was the right thing to do.
Nothing good could have come of it, you know that.”

“Benjamin!” his mother
cried.

He had leant too far into the
doorway to listen and had been spotted. Both of them marched
towards him; he backed away into the dining room.

“Eavesdropping now,” snapped the
vicar. “Another sin to add to your growing collection!”

“How long have you been there?”
said his mother, shaking fearfully.

“I only just got home,” said a
frightened Benjamin.

“You’ve gone too far this time
boy…”

“Albie, don’t!”

The vicar charged towards him
and Benjamin ran.

“What did you hear?” the vicar
demanded, knocking his way through the dining room furniture to
pursue him.

Benjamin went through the
sitting room into the hall, the vicar just inches from catching
him, when they both stopped all of a sudden. The front door hung
open and there stood Benjamin’s father watching them. His face
stern and serious: “By thunder, what is going on here?”

The vicar took a step back and
tried to compose himself. “We were just playing a game,” he lied
feebly.

“Doesn’t look like any game I
know,” Benjamin’s father said slowly. “I had no idea you and my son
were such firm friends.”

“Water under the bridge,” said
the vicar. “Like God, I always prefer to be forgiving.”

After an aching silence, the
vicar said: “Yes, well, I only stopped by briefly.”

“All your visits seem to be
brief,” said Mr Morris. “It’s funny, every time I see you, you
always seem to be on your way out.”

“Well I’m a busy man, the parish
does not run itself. But perhaps sometime soon you could come
around for supper. I feel that we hardly get a chance to talk you
and I.”

“Perhaps.”

“Let me show you out, Albie,”
said Benjamin’s mother.

“No need Emily,” said Mr Morris.
“I think he probably knows the way by now.”

Emily passed the vicar his hat.
He snatched it from her and walked swiftly to the door.

“You’re home early,” Mrs Morris
hissed.

“Young Harry can round up the
sheep by now I think. I’ve taught him well enough... I think you
should go to your room Benjamin. Me and your mother, we need to
talk.”

This was not what Benjamin had
expected at all. For hours and hours his parents seemed to argue.
Benjamin tried his best to listen, but he could not make out much,
except that his father seemed to think his mother was keeping
something from him. It was the first time Benjamin thought his
father seemed more angry than his mother. It ended, as it often
did, with his father slamming the door and going to the pub.
Sometime later his mother shouted for him; he went downstairs to
eat a cold, miserable supper she had left for him. She was outside,
sat crying beneath the old apple tree in the garden.

No, this had not been what he
had expected at all, and the next day, when he visited his friend
in the well, he expressed his displeasure.

“It was supposed to upset the
vicar,” he cried. “Now my mum is throwing tantrums again. My dad is
furious, he doesn’t want to even calm her down.”

“Secrets are dangerous things,
Benjamin,” said the boy. “If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be secrets
now would they?”

“You knew that was going to
happen didn’t you?” said Benjamin angrily. “You knew he was going
to come over and upset Mum!”

“Benjamin! How could you say
that! I thought we were friends you and I? I didn’t do this for me,
you know. I was trying to help you get your own back on the vicar,
but if you don’t need my help...”

“No, no, I do,” Benjamin said
quickly. “I was just sad to see her upset.”

“She doesn’t mind upsetting you
though, does she? The day you first came up here, she struck you
after you had been told off by the vicar. I’m surprised you don’t
want to get your own back on her as well.”

“I don’t want to get my own back
on her,” Benjamin said, almost in tears. “I just want her to be
normal. To be happy, so me and Dad can be happy too.”

“Then you must trust me
Benjamin,” the boy snapped. “Once this secret is out in the open,
the vicar won’t be interfering anymore. You’ve said that he causes
the arguments, causes the trouble. Once he’s gone, everyone will be
happier.”

“I suppose so. But what is their
secret? What was all the shouting about?”

“You’ll find out soon
enough.”

“But why can’t you tell me now!”
Benjamin pleaded.

“I’ve done so much for you
Benjamin,” said the boy, raising his voice. “I’m upset that you’re
so ungrateful.”

“I’m not ungrateful; I just want
to know what it is.”

“I only have my suspicions,”
snapped the boy. “I don’t know everything! The only way to find out
a secret for sure is for those who keep it to tell the truth.”

“But what about my mum?” the
young boy pleaded.

“Don’t you think that a lie, a
secret, is a heavy burden to bear? That your mother might be
relieved, grateful even, to be unburdened from it? Have you not
been taught about these things at school?”

“I don’t know,” Benjamin
pouted.

“Of course you don’t. You
haven’t thought this through. You need to be strong, Benjamin. I
can only help you so much. Trust me my friend, when we are done,
all will be uncovered. And you won’t have to worry about your
mother, the vicar, or anyone else tormenting you ever again.

Can you be strong for me
Benjamin?”

Benjamin wasn’t sure; the boy
from the well had always helped him before, but now he was scaring
him too. After a moment, he just said yes so that he would not be
shouted at again.

“Then we have work to do. What
I’m going to ask you to do next may sound a little strange. But it
will be the icing on the cake!”

With hesitance, Benjamin
listened as the boy in the well told him the next stage of his plan
– he wanted Benjamin to go to the grocer’s and purchase a birthday
card.

“A birthday card?”

“Yes, a birthday card. It’s
quite simple. You can spare some of your pocket money for a
birthday card can’t you?”

“Yes… I think so.”

“Good! The timing must be so
precise for this to work. It should be a child’s birthday card.
Something you might like. Then you must deliver it to your mother
on this coming Saturday.”

“But I thought we were out to
get the vicar…

“I told you to trust me!” yelled
the voice, showing its impatience. “Once she has the card, she will
give it to the vicar.”

“But why don’t I just give it to
him then?”

“Because he’ll be on the
look-out at his home for any new messages! Why all these questions?
Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“You did upset my mother.”

“Only as a means to an end. But
if you don’t want my help, then fine. Just go home as normal, go
back to your life as it was with foul Penelope, horrible Miss Bones
and enjoy your beatings from the vicar. That’s if you don’t need my
help.”

“No, I do, I do,” Benjamin
begged.

“Then do as I say – it will
work!”

Benjamin nodded. “I’ll do what
you say.”

“Good, you won’t regret it, my
friend.”

Just as Benjamin was about to
leave, something suddenly occurred to him.

“What shall I write in the
card?”

The boy in the well was silent
for a few moments. Eventually, he said: “You’ll know what to write
when the time comes. Just put down whatever comes to mind.”

Frightened now about what would
happen if he disobeyed the boy in the well, Benjamin went back to
Mr Wittle’s shop, telling the shop keeper he needed a card for a
cousin of his. He had just about managed to scrape up enough coins
to afford it, though he had to search the whole of his bedroom for
each last half-penny. The card he bought was colourful and had the
picture of a clown on the cover.

He walked home with the card,
looking at the blank inside page, wondering what to write. Why had
the boy asked him to write the message? Why was he even sending it
to his mother? He knew that the boy’s requests were odd, but he
feared disobeying his instructions. Besides, if the card did what
he said, and finally got rid of the horrible vicar, it was probably
for the best.

When he arrived at his home, an
idea suddenly appeared in his head. He went straight to his
father’s desk in the living room, reached for his pen and wrote
very quickly:

“It’s my birthday today. Don’t
tell me you’ve forgotten. Come and visit me, I miss you xx”.

Benjamin looked at what he’d
written. He didn’t understand why he’d written it, in fact, he
didn’t really remember even writing it. One moment the card was in
front of him, the next, the words were there.

He wasn’t sure what they meant,
but somehow he knew they were what was needed; that they were the
right words and that the boy in the well would approve of them. So
he placed the card in the envelope and waited to deliver it in the
morning.

The rest of that day seemed to
disappear. Benjamin awoke the next morning, barely remembering how
he had come to be there or even what he had spent the rest of the
day before doing. He could just about remember eating supper with
his father and mother and the two still not really talking. Besides
that, he could remember very little.

It wasn’t until he was dressed
that he even remembered the card. And then he couldn’t remember
what he had done with it. But as he stood on the landing, he
spotted his mother collecting the post from the carpet under the
front door. Could that be his card, there? There were two letters;
she took them both into the living room. Benjamin was confused,
what had happened to the card? Could that really be it?

Benjamin crept after her, trying
his best not to be heard. His mother walked over to his father’s
desk and pulled out a letter opener from the drawer and opened the
first envelope.

It was his card – now he knew
it! His mother cut open the envelope and pulled out the card. She
looked at it curiously before opening it up. It seemed to take a
moment for the words to sink in. She seemed frozen, motionless as
she looked it over and read what was inside.

Then, suddenly, she fell.
Collapsed down to the carpet with an almighty thud.

Benjamin ran across the floor to
her, screaming “Mum, Mum!” He shook her, but she wouldn’t come
around.

Benjamin’s father heard the
commotion and stormed into the sitting room.

“What happened?” he
demanded.

“She just fell over!” Benjamin
was in tears. “She read the card and fell over.”

“What card?” His father was
shaking her now too. After a moment she came around and started
shrieking and screaming.

“What happened?”

“My baby,” she yelled. “He’s
dead, he’s dead, he’s dead!”

She started to cry, but more
than that, she started to wail: “My baby, my precious baby!”

“Your baby’s here,” his father
shouted. “He’s safe, he’s right here.”

He pulled Benjamin towards her,
but she wouldn’t even look at him.

“He’s wasn’t evil. He was my
baby, my little baby. Don’t take him, don’t take him from
me...”

It was as if they weren’t even
there. Benjamin was terrified, frozen to the spot in terror – what
had he done…

His father commanded that he
fetch the doctor and Benjamin wasted no time in obeying. He ran
faster to the house of Doctor Jenkins than he’d ever run before. He
was fortunate because the doctor was at home and was able to come
straight away to the cottage. He took Benjamin back immediately on
his trap, questioning him all the way about what had happened.
Benjamin could not bear to tell him about his role in his mother’s
condition; he said only that his mother had collapsed after reading
a card in the post and had become hysterical, more hysterical than
she’d ever been.