The Whisper Man(80)

Jake often felt like he was a problem for Daddy. That things would be a bit easier if he weren’t around.

And in the car, Daddy asked the usual questions about his day, and how things had been, and what he’d done. As always, Jake did his best not to answer them. There was nothing exciting to say, and he didn’t think Daddy was really all that interested anyway.

They parked outside the house.

“Can I go in and see Mummy?”

He half expected Daddy to say no, although he wasn’t sure why—maybe because it was something that Jake really wanted to do, and so Daddy would say no just to spoil his fun. But that wasn’t very fair, because Daddy just smiled and ruffled his hair.

“Of course, mate. Just be gentle with her, okay?”

“I will.”

The door was unlocked, and he ran into the house without taking his shoes off. That was something Mummy would normally tell him off for, because she liked to keep the place clean and tidy, but they weren’t dirty or anything, and he wanted to see her and try to make her feel better. He ran through the kitchen and into the living room.

And then he stopped.

Because there was something wrong. The curtains at the far end of the room were open, and the afternoon sun was coming in at an angle, lighting up half the room. It looked peaceful, and everything was very still and silent. But that was the problem. Even when someone was hiding from you, you could usually tell that they were there somewhere, because people took up space and that altered the pressure somehow. The house right now didn’t feel like that at all.

It felt empty.

Daddy was still outside, probably doing something with the car. Jake walked slowly across the living room, but it was more like the room was walking backward past him. The silence was so huge that it felt like he might bruise it if he wasn’t careful.

To the side of the window, the door was open. It led to the small area at the bottom of the stairs. As Jake stepped closer, he could see more and more of it.

The marbled glass of the back door.

The only sound now was his own heartbeat.

The white wallpaper.

Approaching so slowly that he was barely moving.

The knotted wooden handrail.

He looked down at the floor.

Mummy—



* * *



“Daddy!”

Jake screamed the word before he was even properly awake. Then he tucked himself down entirely beneath the covers and shouted it again, his small heart beating hard. He hadn’t had the nightmare since the old house, and the shock of it had gotten a whole lot bigger while it had been gone.

He waited.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, or how long he’d been asleep, but surely it had been long enough that Daddy must be home by now? A moment later, he heard steady footsteps coming up the stairs.

Jake risked poking his head out. The hall light was still on, and a shadow stretched into the room as someone came in.

“Hey,” the man said softly. “What’s the matter?”

Pete, Jake remembered. He liked Pete well enough, but the fact remained that Pete was not Daddy, and Daddy was who he wanted and needed to be walking over to him right now.

Pete was very old, but he sat down cross-legged beside the bed in a quick, decisive movement.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream. Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s not back yet. Bad dreams are horrible, aren’t they? What was this one about?”

Jake shook his head. He’d never told even Daddy what the nightmare was about, and he wasn’t sure he ever would.

“That’s okay.” Pete nodded to himself. “I have bad dreams too, you know? Quite often, in fact. But I actually think it’s all right to have them.”

“How can it be all right?”

“Because sometimes really bad things happen to us, and we don’t like to think about them, so they get buried really deep in our heads.”

“Like earworms?”

“I suppose so, yes. But they have to come out eventually. And bad dreams can be our brain’s way of dealing with that. Breaking it all down into smaller and smaller pieces, until eventually there’s nothing left anymore.”

Jake considered that. The nightmare had been even more frightening than ever, so it felt more like his mind was building something up rather than breaking it down. But then, it always ended at the same point, before he could properly remember seeing Mummy lying on the floor. Maybe Pete was right. Perhaps his own mind was so scared that it had to build itself up for that sight before it could begin to break it down.

“I know it doesn’t make it any easier,” Pete said. “But you know what? A nightmare can never, ever hurt you. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I know that,” Jake said. “But I still want my daddy.”

“He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

“I need him now.” With the return of the nightmare, along with the little girl’s warning earlier, Jake was more sure than ever that something was wrong. “Can you call him and get him to come home?”

Pete was silent for a moment.

“Please?” Jake said. “He won’t mind.”

“I know he won’t.”

Pete took out his cell phone, and Jake watched anxiously as he swiped through, pressed the screen, and then held it up to his ear.