Hungry Moon (37 page)

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Authors: Ramsey Campbell

Tags: #Druids and Druidism, #England, #Christian Ministry, #Science Fiction, #Horror, #Evangelistic Work, #General, #Fiction, #Religion, #Evangelism

BOOK: Hungry Moon
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SIXTY

 

It seemed to Geraldine that she had been sitting by the child's bed for days, not for hours, stroking his high forehead that was so like Jeremy's and holding his hand since the light had begun to fail. His hand was warm now, relaxed. If he was asleep, she could tiptoe away to find out what Jeremy was doing.

When the child had called them mummy and daddy, Jeremy's face had gone blank. He'd pulled away as Geraldine had tried to coax him to the bedside, and retreated to the hall outside the room. She had been trying to persuade him to stay by the bed while she went down to the kitchen when the child had begun to call out. 'Mummy, Daddy, are you there? Please don't go away again.' If Jeremy had walked away from that, she would have wanted him to walk out of her life; never mind who the child was, she didn't want to know anyone who could resist that plea. But as soon as Jeremy had heard her coming upstairs with the tray of meagre food, he'd stumbled out of the bedroom, not looking at her. A few moments later she'd heard the door into the bookshop slam.

Presumably he was still down there, sitting in the dark among the empty shelves. Was it just the presence of a child in the house he couldn't cope with, having to share Geraldine after it had been just the two of them for so long, or was it the thought of who the child might be?

Either by itself would be enough for him to deal with, and she oughtn't to leave him to try to adjust to them by himself. She let go of the small warm hand. 'Are you asleep?' she whispered, hoping.

The hand found hers at once. 'I'm awake. Mummy. I was just being happy. Weren't you?'

'Of course I am.' But Jeremy isn't, she thought, biting her lip. 'Are you warm enough? Would you like another drink?'

'I don't want anything except to be here,' the boy said with a tremor in his voice.

'You will be as long as we are, I promise. Now would you like to come downstairs with me, or will you wait here just a few minutes?'

His other hand grabbed hers. 'I don't want to get up while it's dark. I feel safe here.'

'All right, just stay here while I go and find your-' She couldn't quite say it, couldn't call Jeremy his father. She took a breath, and then she blurted, 'What shall I call you?'

The child giggled as if she were teasing him. 'You know, Mummy.'

'I just want to hear you say it,' Geraldine said with difficulty. 'It might make me even happier.'

"The name you and Daddy gave me. Jonathan.'

Geraldine put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him until she was able to speak. 'Let me just get your daddy,' she whispered. 'I want him to hear you say that.'

The child clung to her. 'You won't let him send me away, will you?'

'Jo - ' She couldn't quite pronounce his name; it was too sudden - she felt as if her reaction hadn't yet caught up with her. 'Why should he want to do that?' she said as lightly as she could.

'I feel as if he doesn't want me here, Mummy.'

'He's getting used to it, that's all. He wouldn't really send you away. Did you talk to him while I was getting your food?'

'He didn't want me to. He didn't even want to look at me.'

'Well, he was just being silly. People are like that sometimes, even daddies. Let me go and talk to him and see what's up.'

The child reluctantly let go of her and sank back on the bed. She was at the door when his plea came out of the blind dark. 'I really can stay, can I, Mummy? It was horrible where I was all that time before you found me. Cold and dark with things in it. I'd have to go back there if you didn't want me to stay.'

'I promise. Let me find your daddy and he'll tell you so as well.' For a moment she was afraid to step out of the room both because he'd invoked the terror of the dark, the thing that had blocked the road through the woods, and because she feared he might be gone when she returned. She had to bring Jeremy back from wherever his brooding had taken him, she told herself, groping for the banister.

She picked her way downstairs and through the kitchen into the bookshop. The long bare room wasn't entirely dark; some light reached from the centre of town, where, Geraldine assumed, the hotel was running floodlights. As she stepped into the room, a dark blotch against the wall opposite the lightest window leaped up, rattling a shelf. It was Jeremy.

'Who's there?' he cried.

'Now who do you think it could be, Jerry?'

'I don't know,' he said morosely. 'Maybe I don't know anything.'

'Then it doesn't make sense to stay out here by yourself, does it? What were you doing sitting in the dark?'

'Waiting for it to go away.'

She wasn't sure if he meant the dark. 'Jerry, we've got to talk.'

'Yes, let me talk. I've been thinking long enough.' He came over to her, his footsteps echoing among the shelves. 'That must be a young boy upstairs if you say so, whatever I thought I was seeing. But what in the name of anything that's holy are we doing kidnapping him?'

'We didn't, Jerry. He wanted to come.'

'Try telling that to anyone out there. Don't you think they've already got enough to hold against us? We can't afford to draw their attention. For Christ's sake, don't you know who that kid must be?'

'Yes,' she said, trying to quiet his nervousness. 'But I want him to tell you himself.'

'Tell me what?'

She sensed that he wouldn't come with her unless she answered him. 'Jerry, he's called Jonathan.'

'Oh, shit.' His shoulders sagged. 'Look, I know what you mean, but it's just coincidence. It's fine if you want to believe Jonathan's alive somewhere, only don't try to tell me he's upstairs. That's a real child up there, not a fucking ghost, and there's only one place a real child could have come from. He's one of the lot who came with Godwin Mann.'

'What was he doing lying naked in the graveyard where we wanted Jonathan to be?'

'How should I know? What does it matter? You're believing what you want to believe. I thought we weren't like the rest of Moonwell.' He went on, more gently: 'Maybe he ran away from his parents because he couldn't take all this repressive religious shit, maybe running off naked was his way of rebelling. I certainly wouldn't blame him. You know I'd help him if I could.'

Geraldine felt cold and empty. 'So what are you suggesting we should do instead?'

'We've no choice. We have to find out where he came from and send him back, and get him to promise he won't say he was with us.'

'I don't think I want to know you any more, Jeremy.'

'If that's how you feel, there's not much I can do about it. But as long as we're being so honest with each other,

I'm beginning to wonder if I ever really knew you at all.'

Geraldine would have turned away if she hadn't still felt guilty about leaving him alone in the dark. Surely they could take back what they'd said, she thought, but that wouldn't change his feelings about Jonathan. Perhaps if she could persuade him to listen to whatever the child had to say - and then the child cried, 'Mummy, what's that noise?'

She was as panicky as he sounded until she realized what he was hearing. 'Just someone singing, Jonathan. Singing hymns.'

'And you can tell he doesn't like it much,' Jeremy muttered as if that proved his point.

'Why should he when we don't?' She was wondering whether Jonathan had shared the last eight years of their life from wherever he was. Might he be able to prove to Jeremy who he was that way? Jeremy had turned away from her, toward the hymn. The singing was closer than she'd thought - it was progressing through Moonwell. She didn't realize how close it was until someone pounded on the front door.

They heard June Bevan's voice, shrill and harsh, as the hymn petered out. 'Open up, we know you're in there. We want a word with you.'

'Well, Jeremy?' Geraldine said, almost calmly.

He straightened up and flexed his shoulders and strode toward the door. That hadn't been what she'd had in mind. 'Say whatever you have to say, June,' he called. 'We can hear you.'

'I'm not talking to a door. You just open it and look me in the face.'

Before Geraldine could stop him, Jeremy slammed back the bolts on the door. He must be welcoming the confrontation after so much brooding in the dark, but in his eagerness he seemed to have forgotten the need for concealment. She closed the door that led to their living quarters and went quickly across the echoing bare room to stand by him.

The Scraggs were out there with June, and several of the men who'd carried out the books for burning. Two of them had flashlights, which they turned on the Booths. 'Well,' Mrs Scragg demanded as the whitish beams poked at their faces, 'what do you mean by staying in our town?'

Jeremy laughed as if her effrontery delighted him. 'We don't have to mean a damn thing by living on our own property. If we're supposed to ask your permission, it's news to me.'

'Maybe we didn't make it clear that you aren't welcome,' a man growled.

Jeremy stepped forward, blocking the doorway. 'Want to break another window while we're watching? I think you'd better decide you've done enough, friend. The police might think less of your methods than you do.'

This was getting them nowhere, Geraldine thought nervously. 'We don't want to stay here any more than you want us,' she interrupted. 'We mean to head out as soon as it's light enough. Nobody's driving while it's like this.'

What did she have to do to get rid of the unwelcome party? Their faces had turned unreadable when Jeremy had mentioned the police. She was about to ask June, who was avoiding her eyes, if she really wanted trouble when a faint cry struck her speechless.

'Mummy, where are you? Is someone there?'

'What's that?' Mrs Scragg demanded. 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph, have you got a child in there?'

'Now what would we be doing with a child?' Jeremy said with an unconvincing laugh.

'I wouldn't like to imagine,' June said.

Jeremy was reaching for the doorknob. Not too fast, Geraldine willed him, just let them think we've had enough of them and you're closing the door because it's still our house .... Then she flinched inwardly at the cry upstairs. 'I'm frightened,' the child's voice pleaded.

'Mother of God, there
is
a child,' Mrs Scragg almost screamed. She grabbed a flashlight and lurched through the doorway as two men shoved Jeremy aside and grabbed his arms. Geraldine backed away. All she could do now was protect Jonathan, be with him when the strangers forced their way into his room. As Jeremy's captors marched him after Mrs Scragg, she groped her way into the farther rooms.

The intruders pursued her through the kitchen, and she heard plates smash. The sound filled her with a dull rage she had no time to deal with. As she climbed the first stairs, the flashlight beams pushed past her, reached the top before she did. She ran up to Jonathan's room, her heart pounding even faster with the thought of the panic he must be experiencing at the commotion downstairs, the thunder of footsteps.

'It's all right, Jonathan, Mummy's here now,' she said into the dark of the room, and then was shoved aside as Mrs Scragg stalked in, probing the room with the flashlight. The beam wavered up the bed and found the small shape cowering against the headboard: Jonathan.

'You're safe now, son,' Mrs Scragg said with a roughness that presumably was meant to be reassuring. 'Nobody's going to harm you any more. Who are you? How did they get you in here?'

Jonathan pressed his shoulders into the angle of the headboard and the wall as she advanced on him. 'I'm Jonathan,' he said in a small, unsure voice. 'Jonathan Booth. I live here with my mummy and daddy.'

'None of that now. Never mind what they told you to say, you just tell the truth like God wants you to. We know they've got no child of their own.'

Jonathan's face crumpled. Geraldine tried to go to him, but Mrs Scragg flung her away from the bed, against the last of the men, who pinned her arms behind her back. 'Don't worry, Jonathan,' she said, managing to keep her voice steady. 'They've made a mistake, that's all. They won't harm us. Even they wouldn't harm you.'

'Shut your lying mouth or we'll shut it for you,' Mrs Scragg snarled, then sweetened her voice as she turned to Jonathan. 'Just you tell the truth now. Never be afraid to tell the truth.'

'You're frightening him,' Geraldine said quietly, though surely his face was wavering so much only because the flashlight beam was swaying. 'He's already told you the truth.'

'He's frightened all right, but whose fault is that?' June cried, and slipped past Mrs Scragg. 'Let me have a look at you, poor mite. No need to be nervous of me, I've got a son of my own. You can come and meet him if you like. He's with his teacher at the hotel.' When he flinched back, she turned angrily to her companions. 'God knows what they've been doing to him. Something out of their filthy books, God help the poor thing.'

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