‘What on earth are you talking about?’ demanded Mr Forester. ‘What is all this nonsense?’
‘But no one replied.
‘You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?’ Alan turned to his mother in bewilderment.
‘The fire brigade got me out,’ Liz said, avoiding the question. ‘But Mum and Dad and Joe … they all … they all died.’ Her voice broke and tears flooded down her cheeks.
Then Terry heard footsteps, slowly treading across the burnt floorboards.
Joe stood on the landing, a dim, spectral shape, watching them apprehensively.
‘Liz?’ It was only the faintest whisper. ‘Is that you?’
Liz could hardly bring out the words. ‘Yes. It’s me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you down so badly, Joe.’
‘I knew you’d come,’ he said. ‘I knew you’d come back.’
Liz held out her trembling arms to him. ‘Joe. I love you, Joe. You know I’ve always loved you. I just couldn’t …’ Liz smiled up at him through her tears and Terry saw Joe begin to run down the stairs towards his sister. But before he reached her he vanished.
They stood silently for a while. There seemed nothing more to say.
‘Some kind of optical illusion,’ muttered Mr Forester eventually.
‘When they get round to pulling this place down,’ said Terry, ‘there’s a football in Joe’s room. You might want to keep it.’
Liz nodded.
‘It’s disgraceful the way this place has been left to rot,’ continued her husband, determined to ignore the inexplicable. ‘I’m going to speak to the council. The building’s dangerous. A child might get in …’ He gazed at Terry and paused, looking embarrassed.
‘A child was here all the time,’ whispered Liz, ‘where I left him.’
‘I’m sorry I pinched your blades,’ Terry said as he and Alan walked out into the wet street. To Terry the sudden normality seemed as miraculous as the appearance of the never-ending room that he and Joe had skated through earlier.
‘I should have told you what happened to me. I could have prevented all this. I’m sorry.’ Alan was as bewildered as his father. Neither of them had been able to rationalise the situation. ‘I can’t believe it. Were you locked in here all the time with Joe’s ghost?’
He laughed unhappily.
‘Yes,’ said Terry. ‘But he’s gone now. Seeing your mother has set him free.’
Alan looked at him warily and then hurriedly changed the subject. ‘We’ll share the blades again.’ He paused. ‘If you think they’re safe, I mean.’
‘They’re safe,’ replied Terry quietly.
‘We’re going back in the car. I feel so lousy with this cold.’ Alan took a last look at the sinister shell of a building and shuddered. ‘You’d better get in – I’m sure you want to get away from here. I do.’
‘I’d rather blade back,’ said Terry. ‘Tell Mum I’m on my way.’
As he sped through the streets, the rain came down again, soaking him, but Terry didn’t mind. He knew the blades would never go as fast now – not without Joe.
Suddenly he realised that, in a strange way, he missed him.
Approaching home, the blades began to speed up, and once again Terry was dangerously out of control. His heart began to pound and his panic rose until he was dry-mouthed and shaking. It can’t be happening again, he thought desperately. It just can’t.
Then all at once the blades slowed down, so that he almost fell off. Could he hear laughter in the wind?
Terry gazed up at the huge open space of the sky. ‘Goodbye,’ he muttered.
‘Goodbye, Joe.’
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
www.bloomsbury.com/AnthonyMasters
A Pocketful of Rye
Confessional
Finding Joe
Ghost Blades
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
Ghost Stories to Tell in the Dark
Nightmare in New York
Scary Tales to Tell in the Dark
Vampire 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 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader
Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP
First published in Great Britain 1997 by Mammoth Books
Copyright © 1997 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: 9781448211586
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