THE IMP

Once upon a time in a land far, far away…. That is the way all fairy tales start. Well, this one started a little closer to home - in fact a little too close to home for comfort. A neighbour of mine, now in a mental hospital, and her only child, now in care, are the only other eye witnesses to much of this tale, so understandably I do not tell it often. Nor do I ever ask the listener to believe what I say - I would not. You can come to your own conclusion.

However, that is how it has ended, a rather back to front start. Perhaps I should start again at the beginning.

My neighbour, Ruby, was, is, a young single mother in her thirties. Her son, Robert was seven when this tale began, two years ago. They lived simply in a terraced council house in a small town, which I’ll not name, in the North of England. Two doors along from me and my husband in in fact -we retired a number of years ago and decided to downsize to a two bed roomed house as our children had long left home.

Ruby worked part time in one of the local shops to feel like she was doing something other than being a mother and a cleaner, but the bulk of their income came from the Government. Some people would call her a scrounger, some would even accuse her of getting pregnant just to get the house, but only petty minded folk. She was, quite simply, devoted to her son. All else came second, including, most definitely, that louse of a man who is Robert‘s absent father.

I’m rambling again. It is still difficult even thinking about our tale - two doors further along the street, and it could have been my granddaughter Jenny. That still frightens me sometimes in the dead of night. So, I’ll bite the bullet - summer two years ago is where we should start.

One day that summer I had popped round to Ruby’s for a coffee. Robert sat in the bay window, kicking his feet off the wall as he watched his mum do the ironing.

'Don't do that, you'll spoil the wall paper!' Ruby snapped. Robert stopped swinging his feet and sighed petulantly.

'Can't you find something better to do than watch me doing the housework?' his mum asked, setting the iron down on the end of the ironing board to massage her temples.

'I'm bored! Bored! Bored!' moaned Robert.

'It's the holidays for goodness sake, you've been looking forward to them for weeks!' exclaimed his mum, 'Why don't you go out and play?'

'Who with?' Robert asked sulkily, 'Everyone's gone on holiday somewhere good, there's only me stuck in boring old here!'. He pulled some dead leaves off the spider plant in the window.

'Play with Jenny, she's probably just as bored as you are' I suggested, 'Take her down to the park and kick a ball about for half an hour while your mum finishes this, then you can both come to the shop with us.'

'Not shopping again!' groaned Robert, 'And girls are rubbish at football!'. His mum glared at him. ‘All right! I’m going out into the garden then.’ he declared.

‘Good. But don’t go any further on your own.’ was Ruby’s tired response.

The gardens are probably the best thing about those houses. At least, that’s how I once felt. They are perhaps thirty metres long and back onto the local railway line. Railways make good wildlife corridors and their bracken, bramble and rhododendron cover encourage foxes and badgers to explore the gardens. The few trees left standing at the bottom of the gardens when the estate was built are a haven for birds and squirrels too.

Robert would sit for hours at the bottom of that garden, waiting to see what would visit this time, and Ruby occasionally gave him tit bits to leave to tempt the wildlife closer. The louse was supposed to have build him a tree house, but left before Robert was old enough to enjoy one safely. My husband, Terry, had promised to build one that summer, but for now I watched as he settled on his usual perch on the fence.

I turned to look at Ruby. She looked gaunt with exhaustion and kept putting the iron down to massage at her temples again.

‘You look tired.’ I said.

‘Robert’s been having nightmares.’ Ruby replied. ‘Every day this week at two in the morning he’s woken up screaming. I don’t know what’s brought this on now - I thought he’d got over Brian leaving.’ She sighed and scraped a few strands of hair back from where there were sticking to her face in the heat and steam of the ironing.

‘Why don’t you leave that?’ I suggested. ‘I can stick it in with mine - Sheila’s coming tomorrow.’

‘I don’t like to take advantage -’

‘Don’t be daft!’ I exclaimed, ‘It’s a breather I’m offering, not anything you need to feel beholden for!’

She smiled over at me, switched the iron off and sat down gratefully in the sofa opposite me to sip at her now cool tea.

‘What are the nightmares about?’ I asked.

‘He swears someone is tapping and scraping at the window.’ she replied, ‘I keep telling him it’s only a nightmare, that no-one could reach his window without a ladder, and that if anyone used a ladder, there would be marks in the ground. Maybe I should take him to see the doctor.’

‘Perhaps.’ I agreed.

We sipped at our tea, and chatted about other things, and then took the reluctant children shopping for the rest of the afternoon - Ruby always used to come shopping with me as I‘m not that steady on my feet. The picture of normality. Almost.

It was a week before I saw Ruby again, and she was not looking improved. Robert had gone round to one of his school friends for the afternoon, and Ruby had come round to ours for a coffee - Terry gallantly offered to go out and do some gardening to give us some privacy.

I put the kettle on as Ruby settled wearily onto one of the kitchen chairs, and when I turned round, she had her head in her hands and her shoulders were shaking.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ I asked, rushing round the table to wrap my arms round her in a motherly fashion - Ruby was like a second daughter to me.

She sobbed onto my shoulder for a few moments, then pulled away apologising and wiping at here eyes. I reached over to the counter for the kitchen roll, handed it to her, and sat down on the chair beside her.

‘I take it he’s still having the nightmares then?’ I asked.

‘They’ve got worse.’ she sniffed ‘Now he’s convinced that he got up the courage to investigate last night and that the culprit is a skinny five meter tall man with no clothes on and funny eyes. I mean, what’s that all about?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with his imagination anyway!’ I laughed, patting her on the hand. ‘Did you take him to the doctor?’

Ruby gave me a watery smile and replied ‘Yes - fat load of good that was - he just said that lots of children have nightmares and he’ll grow out of it.’

I really didn’t know what to say after that, so I made the tea while Ruby adjusted her makeup, and we chatted about inconsequential things for a while.

I would like to think that Ruby left slightly calmer after having shared her load a little, but if she did, it was short lived. Robert’s regular screaming sessions over the last fortnight were really worrying her and no amount of tea and sympathy can replace a good nights sleep. The next night it all came to a head.

Around two in the morning, Terry and I were woken by frantic knocking and bell ringing. I sat bolt upright in bed with my heart hammering in my chest wondering what on earth was going on, while Terry blearily turned on the bedside light to hunt for his slippers and a dressing gown, mumbling grumbles about the time of night.

‘Hurry up!’ I cried as I got my wits together enough to urge him downstairs while I started my own hunt for slippers and gown.

In the event, we both arrived at the front door almost together - I had stopped off in the kitchen to pick up a rolling pin, at which Terry just rolled his eyes before opening the door. In the doorway were Ruby and Robert - Ruby white-faced like she’d seen a ghost, Robert looking confused and not a little scared.

‘Please!’ Ruby pleaded, ‘I didn’t know what to do - please can we come inside?’

‘Of course!’ said I, setting the rolling pin down and pushing past Terry to gather them indoors. I paused to look up and down the street before I shut the door behind them - nothing seemed out of place.

Terry went through into the kitchen to put the kettle on - well, what else can you do in these circumstances?

‘Now,’ I said, still standing in the hallway, ‘I can understand you being up at this hour with Robert’s nightmares and all, but what on earth has driven you to bring him over here?’

Ruby, still white faced and clutching Robert to her waist, apologised for waking us up and started to stumble through an incoherent explanation involving Roberts nightmares and the face at the window.

‘No matter,’ I gently cut her off, ‘let’s get Robert upstairs to bed in the spare room and then we can decide what needs to be done.’

‘No!’ howled Robert, clutching at Ruby and obviously terrified. I really felt for the poor mite - for both of them - those were obviously no run of the mill nightmares he was having.

‘Which way does your spare room face?’ asked Ruby

‘The front, definitely no strangers or ladders.’ I replied firmly, smiling down at Robert.

‘He should be okay - maybe that would be best.’ agreed Ruby.

Robert was still not entirely happy, but after Ruby and I showed him the view from the spare bedroom window, which looked out onto the reassuringly lit street, he finally agreed to settle, as long as we left the bedroom door open and the landing light on. As we tucked him up in bed , I noticed fresh, deep scratches on both his forearms. I said nothing and Ruby and I both and kissed him good night and left, leaving the door open and the light on as per his request.

When we got down to the kitchen, Terry was sitting at the table, a fresh pot brewing and three cups and saucers waiting.

‘So, what’s been happening?’ he asked, in that calm tone he has always managed to produce in any crisis.

‘And what on earth are those cuts on Robert’s arms? I added.

Terry raised his eyebrows at me in question at that, but Ruby didn’t notice.

‘It wasn’t a nightmare - all those nights, it wasn’t a nightmare!’ she kept saying, over and over.

I poured the tea and passed her a cup in silence, waiting for her to calm down enough to speak sensibly. Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to hold the cup with two hands to sip the hot and well sugared beverage.

Minutes passed, Terry and I stifling yawns as we waited patiently. I could tell he would much rather go back to bed than sit and listen to a distraught and sleep deprived mother discuss her child’s nightmares, but he stayed, determined to be around should anything be needed. He is always good like that.

Finally, Ruby put down her half empty cup in the saucer, with only a little rattle. She looked over at me with an expression of such anguish, I really didn’t know what to do with myself for a moment.

‘What is it?’ I encouraged, quietly.

‘The nightmare’s Robert’s been having’ she said, then stopped.

‘Yes?’ Terry prompted gently.

She looked at Terry, then back over to me.

‘It’s real. The five meter skinny man with no clothes and funny eyes - it’s really real. And it tried to steal Robert - smashed his bedroom window while he was looking out, tried to drag him out……’

Terry looked at me, his expression saying she’s flipped this time. Ruby was staring down into her cup.

‘I know you don’t believe me.’ she said, ‘I’m not sure I believe me. But it must be true, his window’s smashed and his arms - his poor arms!’
She started sobbing again. Terry moved his chair closer to her and put a comforting arm round her shoulders. I reached once again for the kitchen roll.

‘Perhaps we should call the police?’ I suggested after a few moments, ‘I know Robert has a vivid imagination, and you’ve not had much sleep, but someone has obviously smashed his window. We should get them round to have a look see.’

‘That sounds like a good idea.’ agreed Terry.

‘Maybe it was just a burglar.’ murmured Ruby, ‘I’ve not been sleeping - maybe I imagined it.’ She looked up at Terry and I, ‘Okay then, let’s phone them. But don’t mention the five meter thing - they’ll think I’m mad.’

I laughed, relieved at the sense of almost normality returning, and Terry contacted the police about an intruder in Ruby‘s house. We drank more tea, talked about silly, little, normal things, and occasionally checked on the fitfully sleeping Robert while we waited for the police to arrive.

They came quite quickly, arriving by twenty past three. They asked a few questions about where the intruder entered, how she first knew about it, what happened next, which Ruby answered. When they asked if she could describe the intruder, she said no, and looked over at me, almost embarrassed. It had been too dark, she said finally.

It was decided that I would go across to the house to give Ruby some moral support while the police made their investigations on site, and Terry would stay and look after Robert. As we walked the short distance along the street, it was still dark, although the sky was starting to show some promise of the sunrise due around four. The two policemen entered the house first, checking round it in case the intruder was still there, but there was no one, and we entered shortly after. Ruby held my hand like a little girl as we did so. I squeezed hers reassuringly.

Twenty minutes later, the police had finished their inspection. It seemed nothing had been taken, there were no footprints or ladders that they could find in the dark, and they were slightly puzzled as to why there was only broken glass outside the house, not inside, if someone was trying to break in. Someone would be round later in the day to investigate further, meanwhile we were not to touch anything.

Ruby came back to our house that night. We offered her the sofa in the living room, but she insisted on sleeping in the spare room with Robert, so I gave her a duvet and pillows and blankets to make a mattress on the floor in the spare room, then Terry and I went back to bed for a few hours sleep.

I generally wake early, around six thirty like clock-work every morning, but the next morning it was eight before I blearily dragged myself from my slumbers. I left Terry to sleep a while longer and went down to make myself a pot of tea. Ruby and Robert were already in the kitchen, Robert munching on toast and Ruby sipping at a cup of tea.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Ruby as I came in, ‘we couldn’t sleep and Robert was hungry.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ I replied.

Ruby had dark circles under her eyes and a haunted expression, but at least her hands were no longer shaking in the light of day. Robert seemed almost himself as he smiled up at me, but jumped when the next slices of toast popped out of the toaster behind him. I fetched a cup and helped myself from the pot Ruby had brewed while she buttered the fresh toast.

‘So,’ I began, ‘what’s the plan today?’

‘I suppose we just go back to the house and clear up once the police have been. I’ll need to get someone in to replace the glass in Roberts room, or at least a board put up before tonight….’

‘I’m sure Terry can help with that.’ I said.

Ruby stared, embarrassed, into her cup. ‘Thanks for taking us in last night - I don’t know what got into me.’

‘Not a problem - I’m just glad you’re both ok. Do you want me to come and give you a hand tidying up?’ I offered.

Ruby smiled her thanks up at me across the table. ‘That would be nice.’

The police arrived with their forensic people shortly after we finished breakfast and they went around the house and gardens looking for any clues to the intruder’s identity. They could find nothing obvious and left. Terry arranged for a glazier to come the following day.

After some lunch, we went over to tidy up Robert’s room, disturbed in the struggle, and to board up the window. Ruby was hesitant on entering the house, and seemed cautious as we made our way upstairs, but there was nothing more untoward than the smashed window to greet us. It was funny how most of the glass had fallen outwards rather than inwards though. Terry had brought a suitably sized sheet of plywood Robert helped him nail it in place, the deep scratches on his arms showing as he reached up to hold the wood in place.

Afterwards we stayed for a quick cup of tea, before Ruby reluctantly insisted that we should go and that yes they would be fine thank you, and that yes, she would take Robert to the doctors to see about his arms. Terry and I passed the rest of the day quietly pottering in our garden, retiring early to bed after the previous night’s disturbance.

At five past two in the morning, we were awoken a second time with frantic bell ringing and hammering. We made our way blearily down stairs in our dressing gowns and were greeted at the front door by a distraught Ruby and a terrified Robert, bleeding from a deep scratch across his face that had narrowly missed his eyes.

‘Jesus!’ swore Terry looking at them both. ‘Right, that’s it - Moira - fetch me the poker from the front room - I’m going over there. Ruby - ring the police right this minute.’

I tried to dissuade Terry, he’s not exactly a young man any more, but he was determined and strode out of the house. I grabbed the poker from the front room and my rolling pin from the kitchen and hurried after him, after making sure that Ruby was indeed ringing the police.

As I made my fast hobble along the street towards Terry who was standing a Ruby’s front door, I heard a rustle from the tree in their front garden and paused a moment to look. There was another rustle, too big to be a bird or a cat, then something, I swear, seemed to swoop out of the tree and down the alley at the side of the house.

Maybe I was imagining what I thought it looked like in the dim light from the streetlight, but there was definitely something and it certainly didn’t seem to have the jerky bobbing motion you would normally associate with dropping from a height and then running. At the time it seemed to me to be seven or eight feet tall, naked and dark skinned, very thin, with overly long arms and legs, fingers and toes ending in long curled nails, strange dark almond shaped eyes, elfish ears and I was convinced at the time that I saw great big feathery wings on its back. I really do not know what to think any more - it was gone in a flash into the darkness, heading towards the back garden so I couldn’t have seen it for more than a few seconds.

I called out to Terry, who strode over, snatched the poker off me, rolled his eyes at my rolling pin, firmly suggested that I wait where I was and disappeared into the dark alley. I duly stood and waited as his rapid footsteps faded into the muffled distance, chest thudding, palms sweating despite the pre-dawn chill wrapping round my bare legs. I was fearful for my husband’s safety and unsure of whether I could actually believe what I thought I had seen.

I stayed in the amber glow from the street light and peered into the dark shadow cast over the mouth of the alley by the tree in the, straining to hear some evidence that my husband was still moving. All I could hear was a faint whooshing beating noise, almost like the noise from an owl or an eagle flying over your head at one of those falconry displays. Maybe I imagined that.

As I was plucking up the courage to follow Terry down the alley, two policemen arrived in their car. I called them over, quickly explained what had happened, without mentioning any description of the thing I might have seen, and sent them down the alley after Terry, truncheons at the ready. Their powerful torches cut through the blackness as they went and feeling slightly happier about Terry’s safety when I heard him calling out a greeting to the cavalry. I returned to our own house to check on Ruby and Robert.

I found them sitting clutching each other in silence in the kitchen. Blood from Robert’s scratch was flowing unheeded down his face and soaking into the sleeve of Ruby‘s nightdress.

‘Goodness!’ I cried, ‘We must clean up that wound!’

Almost unaware and totally silent they stayed sitting, staring into nothingness.

I put the kettle on and went upstairs to find some cotton wool and disinfectant. When I came back down, I gently took hold of Robert to turn him to face me so that I could cleanse the scratch. He whimpered, but let me tend the wound. Ruby loosened her grip on him enough to for me to work, but never once let go of her son. After I finished, I put a pot of tea to brew, got the cups and saucers out, and sat across the table from them to wait, either for Ruby to speak, or for my husband to return.

As I sat, I wondered. What was it that I had seen? What was it that had terrified these two neighbours of mine so much that they could not even look at me, let alone speak? Surely this was no common or garden intruder…

A few minutes later I heard my husband and the police coming back and went into the hall to divert them into the front room.

‘Ruby and Robert are in shock,’ I explained, ‘I really think we need a doctor here before you speak to them.’

One of the policemen got on to his radio to summon one.

‘Anyone for tea while we wait?’ I asked, more brightly than I felt.

I went through to the kitchen to fill their order - one tea for Terry and two coffees for the policemen. Ruby and Robert were still where I left them, though Ruby did briefly flick a glance of recognition over me as I passed them. There was a low murmur of voices coming from the front room as Terry told the story of Roberts nightmares and the events of the night before with the smashed window. Otherwise, all was silent except for the soft chinking as I laid the cups and saucers out on the tray.

‘Can you give a description of the person you saw running down the alleyway?’ asked one of the policemen as I entered the front room with the hot drinks and some biscuits.

I looked at Terry. Thankfully he had not mentioned anything of my babbles about wings and flying.

‘No. I’m sorry, it was too dark to see anything clearly.’ I replied as I laid the tray down on the dining table.

I left the room with my cheeks burning, uncomfortable with the small lie I had just told, but really - what else could I say?

The doctor arrived by half past three, by which time the cup of tea that I had made Ruby sat cold and untouched on the table in front of her. He took one look and decided that both Ruby and Robert required treatment for severe shock and that Robert needed stitches in the gash across his face if he was not to be scarred for life. He arranged for an ambulance to come and take them to the hospital.

As we gently ushered the two from their seat, down the corridor and into the waiting vehicle, little did I realise that this was to be the last time that I saw either of them.

I rang the hospital the next day, I even went down once or twice with Terry during the next week, but they would give no indication of our neighbours condition, or when they might be coming home. Days turned into weeks, and still no news was given us either by the hospital or by the police.

On Thursday night as I was reading the paper three weeks later, I came across an article. It was about a seven year old boy who had been grievously wounded by his mother on at least two occasions and had been taken into care. The mother, a single parent, had been charged with grievous bodily harm against her child, but had been judged as mentally unstable and committed to an institution pending her becoming well enough to try. The picture was of Robert, showing the scratches on his arm, and his poor stitched face. I had to read the article twice before I believed what it was saying. Ruby? Attack her child? It was unthinkable - there must have been a mistake!

We tried contacting the police, the hospital, even the newspaper that had published the article, but no-one was willing, or able, to give us any further information as we were not family members. I even used the spare key that I had to go into Ruby’s house, found Brian’s phone number and asked him to do something about the situation, but again, as he and Ruby were not married, he could do little. The home did offer to release Robert into his custody as the registered father, but he was unwilling to take on the responsibility of a child. Snake of a man.

So, there they sit, Robert in care, Ruby in a mental hospital. I can only think that Ruby had tried to explain that the perpetrator of the horrific injuries to Robert was a strange, tall being with almond eyes and wings, and that Robert was too traumatised to say anything that might even have begun to back up her strange tale. Or that they hadn’t believed a small child any more than they believed his distraught mother.

I refused to let Jenny come and stay after what had happened and was never again happy to be left in the house on my own after dark. I even had to sleep with the rolling pin by the side of the bed. Terry rolled his eyes at me on several occasions and never believed the description of what I thought I had seen that night, but eventually he agreed to move house after three children went missing from the street within the space of a year.

Sometimes I wonder if it would help if I said something more to the police, but what or who really attacked Robert and was taking the children has never been discovered and to this day I still do not really know what I saw. Who would believe an old woman’s tales of strange imps stealing children in the dead of night anyway?

Our new house is far from a railway line or other waste ground, backs onto the gardens of other houses and has not got a tree within one hundred yards. Better safe than sorry I always say.