The Family Game(44)

Robert watches me carefully as I tentatively sink into the sofa beside Matilda. He’s trying to figure out if I’ve listened to the tape yet. He can’t ask with Matilda here but the quiet calm in his eyes tells he’s not adverse to waiting.

‘How have you been?’ Matilda enquires enthusiastically. ‘We’ve all been desperate to see you. How’s the book?’

I realize with a wave of relief this might be the closest I get to talking to Robert tonight, so I can indirectly sell my excuse for not listening to his tape yet. ‘Great. I handed it in just the other day. I’ve barely come up for air since we last met; no time for anything.’

Matilda’s hand flies to my back in congratulations, ‘Oh my God, Harry. That is so exciting. You must be exhausted. When can we read it? Did you hear that, Dad? Harry’s been at the grindstone with her book.’

It suddenly occurs to me, in earnest, that the Holbecks might genuinely be concerned about what I write about in my next book. I suppose if I become part of the family, I will ultimately fall under the same scrutiny that they are prey to – or I could be kidding myself about my own importance. That said, my last book was read by over a million people, and that’s a sizeable reach.

And then another thought emerges from the shadows of my mind. The idea that Robert gave me his tape for that very reason, to have me write his story. But that would bring the entire house of cards crashing down around him. That can’t be his intention.

I snap back to the present at the sound of his voice. ‘The new book is complete. That’s wonderful news, Harriet,’ he says lightly. ‘I look forward to reading it.’ He gives me a polite smile, his expression otherwise unreadable.

There’s a scuffle by the door and I see that the children are beginning to flood into the room. It must be time for the race and for my time with Robert to end.

The room crashes into silence and after a moment I realize why. A cow bell is clunking somewhere beyond the room. I watch the children’s features fizz with terror and excitement as adults exchange knowing glances.

I see eight children in total. Fiona’s boys: Sam, Tristan and Billy. Lila’s Milo and several other boys around Sam’s age. Olivia is the only girl present and clearly the eldest. She sticks close to Fiona’s middle son Tristan; I imagine she’s been told to pair with him; he can’t be more than two years older than Billy.

‘You’re taking part in the race, aren’t you, Harry?’ Matilda whispers, her voice low as the bell clunks again ominously.

‘I am. Though I’m not entirely sure how it all works. I didn’t realize Edward wouldn’t be playing with me,’ I answer, suddenly realizing I might have left everything a bit late. ‘Any tips?’ I ask, an entirely new clutch of nerves stirring inside me.

Matilda grins, her red lips parting to show a perfect set of white teeth. ‘Yeah,’ she says with a throaty chuckle. ‘Run for your life.’





22 Run for Your Life




Friday 16 December

I join the rest of the players congregated in the hallway, the children, me and Lila all sectioned off from the adults now, the sitting room doors closed behind us as we wait for God knows what is about to happen.

Lila is busy hushing an anxious Milo as they wait by the staircase, my way to her blocked by jostling children who skitter about the entrance hall with pre-game excitement. There simply isn’t enough time now to ask what the hell I’m supposed to do other than run. Besides, I too have more pressing matters to deal with. Billy tugs my trouser leg again and I crouch to meet him at eye level.

‘What’s our plan then, team captain?’ I ask brightly, but his concerned little face makes it clear it’s going to take a lot more than my casual optimism to quash his mounting fear.

‘We gock to run away and hide, Auntie Harry-ept,’ he tells me with solemn decisiveness.

‘No problem. We can do that, easy-peasy. I know loads about hiding spots. Is that all we need to do in the game, honey?’

I’m aware I should have dug deeper into the actual rules of the game before now, instead of trying to decipher them from a terrified toddler at the absolute last minute. But I had other things on my mind. And a game’s a game; you only really pick them up as you play anyway.

‘You good a’ games, Auntie Harry-ept?’ Billy asks, giving me a quizzical look I find oddly exposing.

‘Um, yeah. I think so.’ He looks unimpressed, so I follow up with a perhaps overly confident, ‘No, yeah! Best hider ever! I’ve got you covered, little man.’

Billy thinks for a minute, then puffs out his chest, buoyed by my certainty. ‘I guess then we could look for stick? If you fink you know hiding places.’

‘Look for a stick? Is that part of it?’

‘Yup. Ebbergreen stick,’ he gives a firm nod as he tests the word in his mouth again.

I remember Fiona’s sketchy explanation from earlier. ‘Yes, the Evergreen? If we find that the game stops, right?’

‘Yeah, Ebber. You got to show the Krampus the Ebbergreen, then you win; he goes away.’

Right, so we need to find a hidden stick and not get caught while we do it. It sounds like the game ‘Capture the Flag’. ‘We just show the stick to the monster – I mean the Krampus – and that’s the end?’