Deadly Games

by Anthony Masters

  But Jenny could hear the sound of someone crying.

  “Is that you, May?” she called. “You can trust Sid. I know you haven’t been able to trust anyone else – but you can trust him.”

  The crying faded away, to be replaced by a rude noise.

  “Listen, you two,” said David, speaking as calmly and patiently as he could. “If there’s any good left in either of you, you’ll let me climb down that ladder and rescue that cat. Got it?”

  There was silence.

  Then Jenny said, “You’re not going alone, Dave.”

  “Yes, I am,” he snapped. “Now check round and see if you can find any rope in that old shed. I don’t trust the ladder.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Jenny repeated doggedly.

  “I am – and I’ve got to. I need you to hold the rope and help Sid pull me up. He’s in no shape to do that on his own.”

  Reluctantly Jenny had to admit that her brother was right.

  “I’ll go and search for that rope.” Sid walked hurriedly away, wheezing badly.

  Left alone, the twins glanced at each other fearfully.

  “We’ve got to get that cat up.” David was adamant. “We can’t just leave her there.”

  “I know,” Jenny replied miserably.

  “Ding, dong, bell,” came the giggling voice.

  “Grow up!” David shouted. “Just grow up!”

  A stone came whistling out of nowhere and he ducked just in time. Another followed, catching him in the chest.

  “They can’t grow up,” said Jenny sadly. “Please don’t hurt us,” she pleaded. “We won’t take Sid away from you. We’ve got our own parents.”

  “Lucky you,” came Les’s bitter voice.

  Sid eventually returned with a long rope. It was oily but it didn’t look rotten.

  As Jenny and David tied one end to what was left of an old diesel engine, Gumbo reappeared, squeaking urgently and causing the cat down below to start howling again. Between them they made quite a racket.

  “Let me go, Dave,” pleaded Jenny, making one last attempt to dissuade her brother. She couldn’t bear to think of him at the mercy of May and Leslie in the shaft.

  But he shook his head, tying the rope around his waist with the help of Sid, who puffed and panted and wheezed beside him.

  “OK,” said David at last. “I’m ready.”

  Slowly, Jenny and Sid lowered him down the well, trying not to bump him against the slimy, mildewed wall. As David descended, the rancid smell became more intense. Filtered moonlight gave him some indication of how far he had come, and the rusty ladder ran down beside him with only a few rungs missing.

  David knew that he had an almost impossible task. To rescue the distraught wild cat and hang on to her as he was hauled up the shaft was going to be painful; obviously this part of the plan had not been thought through at all – and no wonder, with May’s and Leslie’s taunts distracting them all the time. If only he had got Sid to find something to wrap her in, but now he would just have to try to soothe the cat as best he could.

  She was staring up at him, her lips drawn back, showing her chipped teeth. Then she raised one paw menacingly, revealing long, sharp claws. Soothing, David thought, was going to be tricky.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently as he swung a few metres above her head.

  The cat spat at him, raising her barbed paw higher, her eyes threatening, but David knew she was as terrified of him as he was of her.

  “Good kitty,” he said, realising how stupid he must sound, but he didn’t know what else to say – or do. He would have to make a grab and hug her to him, hoping that Sid and Jenny could haul him up fast. “Good kitty.” He signalled them to lower him a little further, but she spat at him again.

  David hovered uncertainly, waiting for his moment, but there didn’t seem to be one. The cat grew increasingly hostile, arching her back and eyeing him with fear and loathing. Miserably he realised he was getting used to being hated – first by May and Leslie and now the cat.

  “Ding, dong, bell.”

  The mocking call seemed to come from the depths of the dark water.

  David froze, listening, swaying, and the silence seemed to grow as a tangible, threatening force around him.

  “Ding.”

  “Push off,” he muttered.

  “Dong.”

  David gazed down but there was no sign of either May or Leslie.

  “Bell.”

  But he knew they were there somewhere, waiting for him, so he had to grab the mother cat right away. The seconds passed as David kept putting the moment off.

  “Ding, dong, bell.” The chanted words were full of derision.

  Then the water at the bottom of the well began to churn, slowly at first and then much faster.

  May and Leslie reared up at him in a water spout. Laughing with glee, they began to soak the island while the cat, squealing in terror, lashed out with claws that went straight through them.

  Without hesitating any longer, David reached out, waited for a split second and then grabbed the cat, holding her round her middle. But she struggled so violently and scratched him so painfully that he lost his grip and she fell back into the water. At the same time the knot around his waist loosened and unbelievingly he watched it unravel. Desperately, David tried to hang on to the rope as it slipped away, but ice-cold hands soon put a stop to his feeble attempts and he plunged in. Jenny and Sid were left at the top of the well, holding an empty rope and bellowing his name.

  Choking on the vile liquid splashing into his mouth, David trod water as the cat managed to scramble back on to what was left of the island.

  “Ding, dong, bell,” came the triumphant cry, and David found himself again grabbed by the ice-cold hands. He fought hard but was soon dragged beneath the surface.

  Even then David still fought them, but his hands and feet found no contact and he knew he stood no chance against them. Locked in their deadly embrace, he was being dragged ever deeper, until there was a roaring sound in his ears. Then, to David’s amazement, they let him go.

  He shot to the surface, his lungs feeling as if they were going to burst. Treading water, he waited, tensed for another attack. Then, still spluttering, he saw Sid slowly descending the ladder with Gumbo peering out of his overcoat pocket, jenny was just behind.

  “That ladder isn’t safe,” David managed to gasp. “Don’t be such idiots –”

  But Sid ignored him. “May. Leslie,” he called calmly. “I’m coming to you. Me and Gumbo. We’re coming.”

  “What are you going to do?” David realised how exhausted he was and what a long way it would be to the top of the well. The mildewed walls seemed to be closing in on him, the shaft getting deeper. The mother cat was cowed now, no longer spitting or showing her claws, as if her instincts were at last telling her that David meant her no harm.

  “They want me,” said Sid. “And they can have me. Now. I’m going to find them.”

  “You can’t sacrifice yourself,” David protested, suddenly realising what the old man had in mind. He was going to drown himself. “They’re not worth it. Tell him, Jenny.”

  “I’ve been trying to,” Jenny shouted. “But he won’t listen.”

  “Grab the ladder, Dave,” Sid wheezed. “You’re all in.”

  “Do you want me to come to you?” Sid asked again. “Do you want me to drown like you?”

  There was a long, painful silence. Then May and Leslie slowly shook their heads.

  David was so cold and exhausted now that he knew he couldn’t hold on to the ladder much longer.

  “You’ve got to hang on,” said Jenny fearfully, seeing his freezing hands slip and grab at the rung again.

  “Listen.” Sid’s voice was slow, calm and loving. “I mean what I say. I can look after you. Really look after you – like any father would.”

  But May and Leslie shook their heads again, gazing up at him blankly, as if he weren’t getting through.

 
“I love you,” said Sid. “I’ll always love you.”

  They’ve spent so much time resisting love that they can’t recognise the genuine article, thought Jenny. Then she realised that, once again, she and her twin would have to focus their wills, this time much harder than before. But was David capable of anything but trying to keep himself alive? Somehow, she would have to inspire him.

  “David, we’ve got to reach May and Leslie too. We’ve got to focus.”

  He nodded, still hanging on, screwing up his face in grim determination.

  At first, it was like trying to penetrate an iceberg. But the more the twins concentrated, the more they felt they were beginning to get behind the cold walls of hatred and yearning.

  Suddenly the familiar pale glow began again, surrounding May and Leslie, radiating across the stagnant water and up the clammy walls of the well.

  “We’re winning,” said David between clenched teeth.

  The pale light turned a dazzling sunshine yellow and the twins were surrounded by images of the old repair yard in summer. The place was barely recognisable, with most of the machinery buried in bushy undergrowth, a small, hummocky hill running over the engine shed and the upper branches of the tree that grew out of the signal box in bloom.

  Wild flowers were everywhere and sheep grazed on meadow grass that ran beside a small stream. A small whitewashed stone cottage was nearby and on a bench outside sat Sid, reading a newspaper, carpet slippers on his feet.

  May and Leslie were playing in the stream, the silver droplets of water gleaming on their tanned skin. They were no longer ghosts but real healthy children, dashing under a golden sun towards Sid, who had put his paper down and was waving a greeting. Then Gumbo scampered out of the house and rolled on its back in the grassy warmth.

  Sid picked up a towel from the back of the seat and began to dry May’s and Leslie’s hair, both at the same time. As he did so, the images grew faint and the yellow light of high summer began to draw down into the pale light of the well. Then it vanished altogether.

  “There,” said David, knowing that focusing his will, reaching them and seeing their wild, romantic hopes, had cost him the last ounce of his strength. “Now you will believe us.” He closed his eyes against the pain of it all. It would be such a relief to slip under the water, which seemed much less cold now. All he wanted to do was to sleep. He had to sleep.

  “David!” yelled Jenny. “Hang on!”

  But he couldn’t. David’s hands slipped off the ladder and he disappeared slowly under the surface.

  The dark water took him and grew warmer, more comforting, as he sank deeper. He felt relaxed, at peace, and fully accepted that this was going to be the end. He would miss Jenny – but how deeply he wanted to sleep! The pain had gone and with it all his suffering.

  Then David felt strong hands under his arms and realised instinctively that this time there was no need to struggle. In seconds he broke the surface and to his amazement began to rise up the well shaft seemingly unaided. Darting a backward glance, David saw the cat floating up behind him, her body completely still, utterly trusting. He passed Sid on the ladder with Gumbo peering from his pocket, and jenny, her eyes wide with incredulous relief

  Reaching the top of the well, David found himself set gently on the ground. Behind him he heard a faint mewing sound and saw the mother cat streak off into the undergrowth.

  Now freezing cold, with his circulation only just returning, David staggered back to the well and began to help Jenny and then Sid scramble over the top of the ladder. As he did so, David saw May and Leslie standing on the island. He had never seen them so clearly before. They were gazing up at him, holding hands, and for the first time they looked innocent and helpless: Then they faded away into nothing.

  Sid had lit another fire and its warm glow spread inside the twins, giving them an overwhelming sense of relief and well-being.

  “They understand now,” said Jenny. “We broke down all the barriers they’d put up – I’m sure of that. Now they know how much you love them.”

  Sid nodded, while Gumbo stretched itself out in front of the flames, basking in the comfort of the fire, just as it had done in the sunshine of May’s and Leslie’s fantasy vision of summer.

  “There’s something about that rat’s eyes,” muttered Sid. “Always thought they were familiar.”

  “Familiar?” echoed Jenny.

  The twins gazed into Gumbo’s eyes.

  “Mrs Garland,” Jenny exclaimed. “They’re Mrs Garland’s eyes.”

  The rat moved a little closer to the flames and they could smell the peppermint on its breath.

  Sid gave Gumbo an affectionate glance. “She’ll watch over the kids with me. I’ll be setting up house here now.”

  “We must go home,” said David, getting up from the fire reluctantly and stretching. “We’ll have to think up something to tell our parents. They won’t believe any of this.”

  Jenny rose regretfully to her feet, knowing they wouldn’t be able to visit Sid in his new home, otherwise the jealousy might start up all over again. “What about your promise?” she demanded.

  “Promise?” He looked up at her vaguely.

  “You said you’d go back to the hospital and get well again.”

  Sid spread his hands out to the blaze. “Things have changed,” he said. “Got to look after myself better now. Got responsibilities, like.”

  “Yes,” Jenny replied. “You’re right about that.”

  “Will you let me off?”

  “Looks as if I’ll have to,” she said.

  The twins shook hands with Sid and the old man seemed genuinely sorry to see them go. “Best of luck then,” he said.

  “You’re going to need that,” replied David. “They’re a bit of a handful, those two.”

  “Yeah, but I reckon I can sort them out now.”

  David and Jenny gazed back at the fire to see May and Leslie close by, holding out their hands to the warmth. Gumbo was sitting between them.

  A Note on the Author

  Anthony Masters was renowned as an adult novelist, short story writer and biographer, but was best known for his fiction for young people.

  Many of his novels carry deep insights into social problems, which he experienced over four decades by helping the socially excluded. He ran soup kitchens for drug addicts and campaigned for the civic rights of gypsies and other ethnic minorities. Masters is also known for his eclectic range of non-fiction titles, ranging from the biographies of such diverse personalities as the British secret service chief immortalized by Ian Fleming in his James Bond books (The Man Who Was M: the Life of Maxwell Knight).

  His children’s fiction included teenage novels and the ground breaking Weird World series of young adult horror, published by Bloomsbury. He also worked with children both in schools and at art festivals. Anthony Masters died in 2003.

  Discover books by Anthony Masters published by Bloomsbury Reader at

  ww.bloomsbury.com/AnthonyMasters

  A Pocketful of Rye

  Confessional

  Finding Joe

  Hidden Gods

  Murder Is a Long Time Coming

  The Men

  The Seahorse

  Children and Young Adult Books

  Cries of Terror

  Dead Man at the Door

  Deadly Games

  Ghost Blades

  Ghost Stories to Tell in the Dark

  Horror Stories to Tell in the Dark

  I Want Him Dead

  Nightmare in New York

  Scary Tales to Tell in the Dark

  Shellshock

  Vampire Stories to Tell in the Dark

  Werewolf Stories to tell in the Dark

  For copyright reasons, any images not belonging to the original author have been

  removed from this book. The text has not been changed, and may still contain

  references to missing images.

  This electronic edition published in 2014 by Bloomsbury Reader />
  Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,

  London WC1B 3DP

  First published in Great Britain in 1996 by Orchard Books

  Copyright © 1996 Anthony Masters

  All rights reserved

  You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise

  make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means

  (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,

  printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the

  publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication

  may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  The moral right of the author is asserted.

  eISBN: 9781448213139

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