visitors, and Charlie was making himself look closer when Bobby said “Don’t stick your hand in, son. You never know what’s waiting.”
“Don’t touch, Charles,” his mother said at once.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“And,” she said, “please don’t speak to your mother in that fashion.”
“Take no notice, son,” Bobbie advised. “He was just having a joke.”
“I’d like us to leave now, please,” Charlie’s mother said. “I think everyone’s seen enough.”
When Charlie turned to follow her he caught sight of a movement above the neck of the embedded body beside him, as if a face like a featureless stain had swung to watch. She must be causing it, there and in the cavities the other fleshless bodies had in place of heads. He tried not to look, especially back, while he trotted after her. It was only his father who was close behind him. The church was meant to be a refuge, and no footsteps other than the family’s were clattering across the stone floor to the exit, however many echoes there might be. Outside all the clothes on the lines might have been miming agitation that his mother was trying to conceal. “I think we’ve been down here long enough,” she said.
Long enough for what? Rather than ask, Charlie hurried after her to the lift, where the sight of a face peering through the small window had lost some of its appeal. As the lift creaked upwards his father consulted the guidebook. “They took the heads somewhere for safety,” he said.
As Charlie wondered who was being kept safe and from what, his mother said “I’d like to put them behind us, thank you, Edward.”
“How far?” Charlie blurted.
“I’ve been surprised at you today, Charles. I hope you won’t let us down any more.”
She strode to poke the button for the traffic lights, and his father hung back to murmur “They thought something might be catching, Charlie. That’s why they took the heads off, to protect people.”
Who might something catch, and why? As Charlie made to ask, his mother doubled her frown at them. “Come on, Charlie,” his father muttered. “We don’t want you ending up in more trouble.”
Once they’d joined the queue at the bus stop Charlie’s mother grasped her handbag every time a moped raced through the increasingly gridlocked traffic. The bicycles buzzing like wasps didn’t bother Charlie, but he could have done without the face that kept looming at the window of the lift across the road. Very eventually a bus appeared in the distance, and less than ten minutes later it arrived at the stop.
From the bus he watched cars inch past one another, their drivers reaching to pull side mirrors inwards. The ruse would have amused him more if he hadn’t seen one reflected face swell up like a worm emerging from a hole as the driver hauled at the mirror. Having leafed through the guidebook, his father said “Who’d like to go up to a park?”
“Let’s,” Charlie’s mother said at once.
The picture in the book showed a railway platform made of steps alongside an equally steep train. When the bus came to an official stop at last and his father led the way to the station, however, Charlie saw an ordinary horizontal platform leading to a tunnel, where he tried to enjoy the sight of a blank-faced train worming its way towards him out of the dark. At first there wasn’t much to see when the train moved off, though a toddler in the next carriage kept poking her head up to peer at him. Her breath on the window between the carriages blurred her face and turned it grey. He tried to focus his attention on the tunnel, where he couldn’t see any holes in the walls—nowhere that anything could creep or struggle or bulge out from.
A wind boarded the train when, having escaped into the open, it reached the stop of a hill, and Charlie’s mother tugged his zip under his chin. At a restaurant between the station and a park they had a pizza big enough for the three of them. Plastic sheets around
“Don’t touch, Charles,” his mother said at once.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“And,” she said, “please don’t speak to your mother in that fashion.”
“Take no notice, son,” Bobbie advised. “He was just having a joke.”
“I’d like us to leave now, please,” Charlie’s mother said. “I think everyone’s seen enough.”
When Charlie turned to follow her he caught sight of a movement above the neck of the embedded body beside him, as if a face like a featureless stain had swung to watch. She must be causing it, there and in the cavities the other fleshless bodies had in place of heads. He tried not to look, especially back, while he trotted after her. It was only his father who was close behind him. The church was meant to be a refuge, and no footsteps other than the family’s were clattering across the stone floor to the exit, however many echoes there might be. Outside all the clothes on the lines might have been miming agitation that his mother was trying to conceal. “I think we’ve been down here long enough,” she said.
Long enough for what? Rather than ask, Charlie hurried after her to the lift, where the sight of a face peering through the small window had lost some of its appeal. As the lift creaked upwards his father consulted the guidebook. “They took the heads somewhere for safety,” he said.
As Charlie wondered who was being kept safe and from what, his mother said “I’d like to put them behind us, thank you, Edward.”
“How far?” Charlie blurted.
“I’ve been surprised at you today, Charles. I hope you won’t let us down any more.”
She strode to poke the button for the traffic lights, and his father hung back to murmur “They thought something might be catching, Charlie. That’s why they took the heads off, to protect people.”
Who might something catch, and why? As Charlie made to ask, his mother doubled her frown at them. “Come on, Charlie,” his father muttered. “We don’t want you ending up in more trouble.”
Once they’d joined the queue at the bus stop Charlie’s mother grasped her handbag every time a moped raced through the increasingly gridlocked traffic. The bicycles buzzing like wasps didn’t bother Charlie, but he could have done without the face that kept looming at the window of the lift across the road. Very eventually a bus appeared in the distance, and less than ten minutes later it arrived at the stop.
From the bus he watched cars inch past one another, their drivers reaching to pull side mirrors inwards. The ruse would have amused him more if he hadn’t seen one reflected face swell up like a worm emerging from a hole as the driver hauled at the mirror. Having leafed through the guidebook, his father said “Who’d like to go up to a park?”
“Let’s,” Charlie’s mother said at once.
The picture in the book showed a railway platform made of steps alongside an equally steep train. When the bus came to an official stop at last and his father led the way to the station, however, Charlie saw an ordinary horizontal platform leading to a tunnel, where he tried to enjoy the sight of a blank-faced train worming its way towards him out of the dark. At first there wasn’t much to see when the train moved off, though a toddler in the next carriage kept poking her head up to peer at him. Her breath on the window between the carriages blurred her face and turned it grey. He tried to focus his attention on the tunnel, where he couldn’t see any holes in the walls—nowhere that anything could creep or struggle or bulge out from.
A wind boarded the train when, having escaped into the open, it reached the stop of a hill, and Charlie’s mother tugged his zip under his chin. At a restaurant between the station and a park they had a pizza big enough for the three of them. Plastic sheets around
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