The Whisper Man(28)

“He is dead.” Owen turned back to Jake and gestured at the chair. “That means you’ll be next.”

That didn’t make sense either, Jake decided. Owen really hadn’t thought this through at all. For one thing, whatever had happened to Neil, he’d never sat in this particular chair, so it wasn’t like it was cursed or anything.

And also, there was a much more likely possibility. It was one he knew he shouldn’t say, and he remained silent for a second. But then he remembered what the little girl had told him outside, and how alone he felt, and he decided that if Owen could treat him like this, then why couldn’t he treat Owen the same right back?

“Maybe it means I’ll be last,” he said.

Owen narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe the bad man will take the class one by one, and they’ll all be replaced by new boys and girls. So that means the Whisper Man will take you before me.”

Tabby gasped in shock, then burst into tears.

“You’ve made Tabby cry,” Owen said matter-of-factly. The teacher’s assistant was making his way over to the table. “George, Jake told Tabby the Whisper Man was going to kill her like he did Neil, and she got upset.”

Which was how Jake went up to yellow on his first day.

Daddy was going to be very disappointed.





Eighteen


The day had gone better than I expected.

Eight hundred words might have been a relatively meager tally, but after not writing anything for months, at least it was a start.

I read it through again now.

Rebecca.

At the moment, it was about her. Not a story in itself, or even the beginning of one, as things stood, but the beginning of a letter to her, and one that was difficult to read. There were so many happy memories to draw on, and I knew that I would as I continued, but while I loved and missed her more than I could say, I also couldn’t deny the ugly kernel of resentment I felt, the frustration at being left alone with Jake, the loneliness of that empty bed. The sense of being abandoned to deal with things it felt like I couldn’t cope with. None of that was her fault, of course, but grief is a stew with a thousand ingredients, and not all of them are palatable. What I’d written was an honest expression of a small part of how I felt.

Groundwork, basically. I had an idea now of what I could write about. A man, a little like me, who had lost a woman, a little like her. And as painful as it would be to explore, I could do that, moving from the ugliness to the beauty, and hopefully some final sense of resolution and acceptance. Sometimes writing can help to heal you. I didn’t know if that would be the case here, but it was something to aim for.

I saved the file, and then went to pick up Jake.

When I arrived at the school, all the other parents were lined up against the wall, waiting. There was probably strict but unspoken etiquette about where to stand, but it had been a long day and I decided I didn’t care. Instead, I spotted Karen standing by herself near the gate and just went over to her. The afternoon was even warmer than the morning, but she was still dressed as though prepared for snow.

“Hello again,” she said. “Do you think he survived?”

“I’m pretty sure they’d have phoned by now if not.”

“I imagine so. How was your day? Well—I call it a day. How were your six hours of freedom?”

“Interesting,” I said. “I finally looked in our new garage and discovered that the previous owner decided to empty out all the junk by hiding it in there.”

“Ah. How annoying. But also how cunning.”

I laughed, but only slightly. The writing had taken away some of the unease from the man calling around, but it returned to me now.

“I also had some random guy snooping about.”

“Okay, that sounds less good.”

“Yeah. He said he grew up in the house and wanted to look around. Not sure I believed him.”

“You didn’t let him in, right?”

“God, no.”

“Whereabouts have you moved?”

“Garholt Street.”

“Just around the corner from us.” She nodded. “The scary house, by any chance?”

The scary house. My heart sank.

“Probably. Although I prefer to think of it as having character.”

“Oh, it does.” She nodded again. “I saw it was up for sale over the summer. It’s not really scary at all, obviously, but Adam used to say it looked strange.”

“Totally the right place for me and Jake, then.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” She smiled, then leaned away from the railing as the school door opened. “Here we go. The beasts are loose.”

Jake’s class teacher came out and stood by the door, looking over the parents, then calling over her shoulder for individual children. They came scurrying out one by one, their book bags and water bottles swinging at their sides. Mrs. Shelley, I remembered. She looked somewhat unforgiving. I was sure her gaze landed on me a few times, but it moved on before I could tell her I was Jake’s dad. A boy I presumed was Adam joined us and Karen ruffled his hair.

“Good day, kid?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Come on, then.” She turned to me. “See you tomorrow.”