The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories Read online

  She busied herself dishing up cereal and buttering toast, making tea. Tilly said nothing, just ate whatever was put in front of her without a sound.

  As Tilly put the last crust down on her plate and pushed her chair back, Hannah whisked plates away as she glanced at the clock again. Eight-twenty, and Tilly was dressed. Maybe they’d make it on time after all.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Tilly smiled and nodded, her mood much lighter now. She went and got her coat and book-bag, and stood by the front door. As Hannah joined her and started digging in her coat pocket for her keys, Tilly exclaimed “Jack!” and ran back to the living room.

  “Not now, Tilly!” Hannah shouted. “We’ll be late!”

  Tilly came hurtling out of the living room, sobbing. She collided with her mother and wrapped her little arms around Hannah’s waist.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Hannah asked, bending to try and see the child’s face.

  Tilly raised her eyes to her mother’s, stormy blue to puzzled green, and sobbed, “He’s gone!”

  “What?” Hannah stood and stared toward the living room, trying to see the window-ledge. Tilly had left the curtains half-drawn, but even so Hannah could see the lantern was still there, peeking out from behind the right-hand one. “It’s there, love. Look!”

  Tilly looked back over her shoulder, hiccuping as her sobs died away. “But … he wasn’t, honest!”

  Hannah delved into her pocket for a tissue and wiped her daughter’s face dry. “You must have just missed it, love. That’s all. Now come on, we’ll be late!” She grabbed Tilly’s hand and led her out of the house. There wasn’t a lot of time for talk on the hurried walk to school, but Hannah had managed to cheer the child up by the time they reached the gates. She bent down to kiss Tilly goodbye, and smiled at her warmly. “Have a good day,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Tilly wouldn’t let go of her hand. She grabbed her coat with the other hand and pulled Hannah forward so she could whisper to her. “It moved,” she said. “I know it did. It wasn’t there, Mum.”

  Hannah slowly straightened up, frowning. She stroked Tilly’s cheek as she tried to reassure her. “It must have been,” she said. “It can’t move on its own, can it?”

  “Morning, Tilly!”

  Mrs. Smythe, Tilly’s teacher, was descending on them like a ship in full sail. Her floaty, overly floral dress was billowing about her in the wind, and the smile on her rosy face looked as if it was about to split it in half. She looked down at Tilly and her smile faltered. She turned to Hannah, her expression worried. “Anything wrong, Mrs. Lytton?”

  Hannah forced a smile. “Oh no,” she said. “Not really. Tilly managed to spook herself with the jack-o’-lantern this morning—thought it was gone from the window-ledge and then it was there.”

  Mrs. Smythe stared at her for what felt like minutes, her eyes serious. Finally, she looked down at Tilly, and when she saw the child staring back up at her, scared, she smiled at her. “You must have made a mistake, lovely.”

  Tilly shook her head. “No, I didn’t, Miss.”

  Mrs. Smythe laughed, a jagged, nervous sound that didn’t hold a hint of humor. “It can’t move, Tilly,” she said as she took the girl’s hand and ushered her toward the school’s entrance.

  Hannah could have sworn that, just before they were swallowed by the building’s interior, she heard Mrs. Smythe say, “Not yet.”

  At 3:30 in the afternoon, Hannah was standing outside the gates once more, waiting eagerly for the school to disgorge her daughter. She didn’t have to wait long. The bell rang and suddenly there were dozens of children appearing in the entrance, chattering excitedly and waving when they saw parents and started to run toward them. Tilly didn’t keep her waiting long. As she exited the building she was whispering to another little girl, one Hannah didn’t recognize. The child had red hair, that copper shade that appears almost polished in the sunlight, and a mass of freckles over an upturned nose that made her look as if she was constantly about to grin.

  “Mummy, this is Annie,” she said, and Hannah fought not to smile. Annie’s parents had clearly shown a sense of humor when naming their offspring.

  Annie was frowning at her, an expression that didn’t seem to sit right on a face built for cheerier expressions. “What’s funny?” she said.

  Hannah smiled at her and Tilly, eager to be friendly. “I’m sorry,” she said, “you just reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

  “As long as it’s not that bloody musical,” Annie muttered as she stalked off toward a woman with flame-red hair who was standing, scowling, at the gates.

  Hannah stared after her, open-mouthed. She was what, eight? And already swearing. Silently, she resolved to try and minimize the time Tilly spent with this girl. She was a bad influence, that much was obvious. She felt Tilly tugging at her sleeve, and looked down. “What?”

  “She doesn’t swear much,” Tilly said, her face sad. “I haven’t heard her do it before.”

  “She shouldn’t do it all,” Hannah answered stiffly. “How good a friend is she?”

  “I don’t know her that well,” Tilly admitted, “we got talking in class today.”

  “What about?”

  “Halloween,” Tilly whispered, and something about her voice made Hannah lean down, bending so that she was face-to-face with her daughter.

  “What about it, love?” she asked.

  Tilly smiled, and it nearly broke Hannah’s heart. It was Tilly’s biggest smile, the one reserved for things like Christmas, birthdays, and surprises (a serious girl, Tilly wasn’t given to laughing often, but when she did, she was delighted—and so was Hannah). Yet now her eyes were welling up with tears, and her face was so pale… .

  “Tell me,” Hannah whispered, stroking Tilly’s cheek.

  “Annie said that the Halloween Parade is when you get taken,” she said, and now tears were falling quickly down her cheeks, leaving grubby marks when she wiped them away.

  “Taken where?” Hannah asked.

  Tilly shrugged. “Don’t know. Just taken.” She was in her mother’s arms, then, crying. “I didn’t like it,” she whispered, “it sounds scary, Mum. Do I have to go?”

  Hannah squeezed her daughter tight, alarmed at the speed of the child’s heart thumping against her chest. “No, love, you don’t.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” With that, Hannah hauled herself upright with Tilly still in her arms, a feat that was much harder these days than when Tilly was smaller. She turned and walked away from the gates, shushing Tilly as she went and rubbing her back. She had seen Mrs. Smythe approaching with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to engage in some discussion about what was wrong, but now wasn’t the time. She had to get Tilly home. She lengthened her stride, and was halfway down the street when Tilly whispered, “She’s gone back in now,” and Hannah relaxed but didn’t slow her pace.

  “Let’s go home,” she said, “get you in the warm.”

  Tilly’s arms tightened around her neck and she felt the child nod, making her hold her daughter just a little tighter as she walked.

  Ten minutes later she was fumbling in her coat pocket for her keys, having shifted Tilly’s weight onto one hip. Tilly seemed to have nodded off, her body limp in her mother’s arms, her breath puffing warm into Hannah’s neck. She found them, unlocked the door, and pushed it open with her foot, then walked into the living room and laid the sleeping girl down on the sofa.

  She wondered whether to rouse her enough to take her coat off, but one look at her daughter’s peaceful expression decided that. Time enough when she woke up—let her rest. She eased Tilly’s shoes off, one by one, and laid them on the floor beside her. Then she made sure Tilly was comfortable, and pulled the girl’s favorite soft gray blanket over her before heading back into the hall to take her own coat off and hang it on the hook by the door. She peeped back at Tilly to check she was still sleeping, then went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.r />
  Ten minutes later she was sitting in the armchair, sipping thoughtfully at her tea, staring at her sleeping child. Tilly had burrowed down under the blanket, and all Hannah could see, once more, was her hair. Hannah sighed. Tilly would be so hot when she woke up, but better that than upset and shocked, as she had been when she got out of school. Hannah’s thoughts wandered to Annie and her sullen-looking mother, and she wondered where they lived. Hopefully nowhere near them.

  The shadows made their way across the room as the sun went down, and still Tilly slept. Hannah didn’t have the heart to wake her, even though she knew it would probably mean a sleepless night ahead for both of them.

  Finally, at almost seven o’clock, Hannah heard a deep sigh coming from the depths of the gray blanket. She leaned forward, placing her now-empty cup on the coffee table beside her.

  Tilly sat up. Sleepy-eyed, she yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

  Hannah’s heart melted—she looked about three when she did that.

  Then Tilly turned to her mother, and the smile was back—that bright, shining light that only showed when Tilly was really happy. “Mum!”

  “Evening, poppet,” Hannah answered. “Feel better?”

  Tilly nodded, swinging her legs down so she was sitting upright. Her thumb found its way to her mouth, and with her other hand she started twirling her hair as she gazed at her mother.

  Hannah’s smile faded, just a little. Tilly hadn’t sucked her thumb since she was three, although she did still play with her hair sometimes, when she was especially tired or upset. She cleared her throat, and asked, “Hungry?”

  Again the nod. Hannah thought for a moment—they were both tired, and Tilly was obviously still bothered by the incident at school. She didn’t want to leave her daughter unattended while she cooked, and it was getting late. There was one thing guaranteed to bring a smile to Tilly’s face, and her next words did the trick. “Shall I order pizza?”

  Tilly lit up, nodding as she ran for the menu.

  Half an hour later they were back on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table (permission granted especially for pizza, so long as shoes were off), with big glasses of milk and slices of Tilly’s favorite pizza. Another Disney movie was on TV, and Hannah found she was almost word-perfect as they watched together.

  Gradually, Hannah felt herself beginning to relax. Tilly seemed to have forgotten the upset at the gates, and she didn’t want to open that can of worms again—she wanted her daughter to sleep tonight.

  As the film ended, Tilly was beginning to nod, drowsily hanging on to her now-empty plate, her hair falling perilously close to the tomato sauce smeared across it.

  “Bedtime, Tilly,” Hannah whispered, easing the plate out of her daughter’s hands and smoothing her hair back.

  “’Kay,” the girl muttered, and she leaned across to kiss her mother before heading upstairs unbidden to get into her pajamas and brush her teeth.

  Hannah watched her go, and was surprised to feel a pang of sadness at the sight of her little girl traipsing up the stairs, yawning as she went. She’ll be too big for kisses soon, she thought, and then told herself not to be stupid. Kisses weren’t defined by age—they were there when wanted or needed. She wasn’t like her parents, confined by the norms of their day and not able to show affection as easily as she and Tilly could. Still, the thought persisted, and her mood was spoiled as she cleared up the evening meal and washed up the plates and glasses. The movie was over, and once Tilly was in bed the rest of the evening was hers.

  Tilly was sitting up in bed, knees drawn up to her chest with her chin resting on them when Hannah made it upstairs to say goodnight some ten minutes later. She smiled as her mother entered the room, her expression a little wistful.

  “Okay, button?” Hannah asked, worried that the afternoon’s upset might have returned.

  Tilly nodded. “I’m fine, just thinking about Daddy.”

  Hannah sighed, and went to sit next to her daughter, who shuffled across to make room. “Me too,” she confessed, and stroked Tilly’s cheek. “Especially this time of year.”

  Her daughter nodded. “Do you want to know something?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I hate Halloween!” The words were spat out, real passion behind them, and Hannah realized that for Tilly nothing had faded, as it hadn’t for her. Adam’s loss still burned deep, even though it was almost three years past now.

  “Me too, in some ways,” Hannah said, a little surprised at how shaky her voice was. “But there are fun things too—like this parade? The party? And we can watch movies and cartoons and eat all the candy. You like that, remember?”

  Tilly nodded, her face a little less sad. Her eyes, though, were still haunted. “That’s true,” she said, “but I wish Daddy could be here too.”

  “I know, love,” Hannah said, and leaned forward to hug her daughter, smiling through the tears that threatened as the child hugged her back tightly, holding on as if she’d never let her go. Too old for kisses, she thought, and smiled a little wider. Yeah, right. “But you know Daddy, he wouldn’t want you to be sad. And he’s always with you, inside.”

  Tilly didn’t say anything, but Hannah recognized the wry look she gave her mother as she plumped herself down on the pillow and pulled the duvet up over her. It was a look that her father would have given.

  Hannah bent down to kiss Tilly goodnight. “Don’t forget to say your prayers, love.”

  “I won’t.”

  Tilly’s voice was small and already on the verge of sleep—the day’s events had tired her out, and yet it seemed they were already mostly forgotten. Hannah envied her that.

  Downstairs once more, she found herself staring at the photo taken three years before, just before Adam had died—mown down by a drunk-driver dressed as Freddy Krueger, on his way home from celebrating a little too enthusiastically at a local Halloween party. Adam hadn’t stood a chance—his head had hit the curb as he fell, after being thrown high into the air on impact; his skull was shattered, and the resulting bleed on his brain had finished the job.

  There he was, smiling back at her, a grinning Tilly in his arms, her arms around his neck. She’d adored him—the two of them had been frequent partners in crime, and Hannah had loved to watch them. Now she had to be both mother and father, and at times she thought the weight of it might be the death of her, but not tonight. Tonight she’d successfully fended off the descent into maudlin that usually followed when Tilly mentioned Daddy, and Tilly was probably already asleep.

  Thoughts of Adam inevitably led to thoughts of the pain she’d gone through as Tilly tried to adjust to the news. She’d taken it hard, and for months Hannah had wondered if they’d ever be able to cope. Slowly, week by week, the tantrums and nightmares had first slowed, then stopped, until finally it was only during the weeks leading up to Halloween that trouble flared. Hannah had hoped that this year the school celebrations would have averted that.

  She went to the fridge and got out the remains of a bottle of wine, poured herself a glass, and went through to the living room and sank down on the sofa, remote in one hand, wine in the other. Hopefully there’d be a movie or something she could lose herself in until it was time for bed. Two hours and a lot of channel-hopping later, plus the rest of the wine, Hannah gave up and went up to bed. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

  She was awakened by high-pitched laughter, and the sound of furniture scraping in the kitchen underneath her. Groaning at the jolt of pain in her head as she leapt out of bed, Hannah pulled on her dressing gown and dashed down the stairs two at a time, wondering what on earth Tilly was up to this time.

  Tilly was standing in the living room, all wide eyes and innocence, staring at her mother as she crashed through the door.

  “What was that noise?” Hannah panted.

  “What noise?”

  Hannah frowned. “Don’t give me that, something scraped along the floor.”

  Tilly sighed. “Oh that.
It was just the chair, Mum.” She indicated one of the kitchen chairs, now parked beside the sofa in front of the TV.

  “What’s it doing there?” Hannah asked.

  Now Tilly started to look evasive, an expression Hannah wasn’t used to seeing on her daughter’s face.

  “I said, what’s it doing there?” Hannah insisted.

  “I thought Jack could sit on it,” Tilly said, and indicated the kitchen chair’s seat.

  The jack-o’-lantern now occupied the middle of the seat, and to Hannah’s eyes it looked bigger. It was just as ugly as ever, but the mouth was drawn down and someone had cut a frown line in between the eyes. That hadn’t been there before, had it?

  “What did you do to its face?” Hannah asked, as she picked it up and deposited it back on the window-ledge—wiping her hands on her dressing gown after doing so.

  “Nothing, why?”

  Hannah turned it around to face the street, almost smiling when an elderly lady passing by flinched away from it. Turning back to her daughter, she shook her head. “Oh nothing, I just thought it looked a bit grubby, that’s all.”

  Tilly stared at her, her expression doubtful. “Well I didn’t do anything.”

  “Okay.” Hannah picked up the chair and used it to prod Tilly into the kitchen. “Let’s have breakfast, eh?”

  Tilly got to school on time and without further incident, and for a week or more things carried on as normal. As the Halloween Parade and party got nearer, though, Hannah started to be concerned. There was nothing ostensibly wrong: Tilly went to school, came home, ate and did her homework, went to bed. Her brief resistance at going to the Parade had gone, Annie’s words forgotten. But her sleep was becoming increasingly disturbed, although she claimed never to remember why, and she was losing weight.

  Again, Hannah couldn’t put her finger on what was different—Tilly ate her meals, and when Hannah asked the staff at school if they’d noticed her not eating lunch she was told that everything was fine: Tilly was happy and productive, and eating well with her friends in the canteen at lunchtime.