C: The third bit

Thursday afternoon and still no sign of Marvin. I wanted to go out
and buy a paper but I suspected that they'd be watching the newsagents.
It would be safer to stay at home. I sat down at the table and
contemplated my jigsaw. The tiger was taking shape nicely. I had all of
the left foreleg done and most of the head too, although the white
tablecloth showed through where the eye should have been. It looked
rather like the tiger had a cataract. Well tough bananas, I thought. If
Humans get cataracts then tigers should too - it's only fair.

Friday. Marvin was still missing. Well, he hadn't come past my window
again anyway. I was worried sick. I was beginning to suspect that the
boy was at the bottom of an abandoned mineshaft somewhere - there were
plenty about. It would be easy enough for a body to be dumped down one
in the dead of night - it wasn't as if the police could watch every
single one of them round the clock. Especially with all the men they
must have watching the newsagents and supermarkets by now.

The temptation to buy a newspaper was growing stronger. It was damn
near a craving. I wanted to know how the investigation was going, I
needed to know how the investigation was going. But it was just too
dangerous. I had finished my jigsaw that morning and the tiger now lay
there on the table, staring at me malevolently. It was time for the
children to come home from school again, but for the first time in
months I wasn't looking forward to my daily procession. With Marvin
missing it was an empty prospect. Why did he have that damn tennis
racquet? That was really starting to bug me. He was fat - he couldn't
play tennis. He should have been reading comics. It just didn't make
sense.

I sat down in my chair in frustration. Where was that boy? Didn't he
know his mother would be worried about him? Didn't he know that I would
be worried about him? A teenager strolled past the window with his arm
round a girl the same age. A cigarette was in one hand and the girl's
breast was cupped in the other. The girl had make-up plastered all over
her face and was giggling like a French whore. Disgusting. And on the
street too. Teenagers these days just had no respect. Was it any wonder
that special boys like Marvin went missing when evil scum like this yob
roamed the streets? Scum who walked home from school groping their
tarts, and probably took them up into the hills at night to get them
pregnant. The night-time countryside was probably full of dirty
perverts like this one. Disgusting predators. They probably broke into
decent folks' houses on the way home just to pay for their drugs.
Perhaps it was for the best that Marvin might be dead after all. He was
so sweet and youthful? so innocent. Better if he never had to change
into one of those evil youths at all. Better if he never got to play
tennis and lose that weight. Yes, better all round perhaps. Who could
say. I stared at the tiger angrily. Gradually the night drew on.

Saturday morning. No school today, so no procession to look forward
to. That was a shame. I decided to spend the day catching up on my
ironing. I set the board up by the window so I could watch out the
window, and perhaps see Marvin wander home. That would be nice. It was
about time he came home to his mum. I hoped vaguely that she'd been
taping his cartoons so that he could catch up when he got back. It was
a shame that I didn't know which were his favourites - I'd have
recorded them too if I had. Just in case his mother forgot. But I was
sure she hadn't. I got out the first cardigan and began my work,
humming softly. I had always liked Saturdays.

I didn't bother getting out of bed the next day - there was no point.
I had my Agatha Christie to read and my teasmaid by the bed. Sundays
were for relaxing after all. Besides, I had to save my energy for the
morrow - it was a school day, and there would be children to watch.
Although, I considered regretfully, not quite as many as there had been
last Monday. Oh well, I thought, life goes on. It turned out that the
Butler did it. Christie always was predictable.

It was Monday afternoon again - a whole week since the tennis racquet
- and I'd just had the shock of my life. I'd been sitting in my chair
all day, waiting for the children to come home, and I'd fallen asleep
just after lunch. I dreamed of Marvin. In the dream he followed me
round like the Ghost of Christmas Past, intoning wild home truths and
accusations. We wandered round his school whilst pupils shimmered
ephemerally around us. As we floated through walls and offices he
recounted the deeds of my life, compelling me to re-live my every
failure, until finally we reached the tennis courts. As we stood before
the chainlink gate Marvin turned to me and grinned. He had no teeth.
Then he spoke, and his voice was no longer the unbroken piping of a
child but the leaden tones of knowledge hard earned - and deadly. It
seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere dark and
cavernous, somewhere I didn't even want to think about.
"It is here that we must learn the truth." He said. "It is here that
all dreams become real and all secrets become known. We must
enter."
I dragged my eyes away from his toothless maw and glanced at the
tennis-courts through the mesh. I froze. A moment ago the courts had
been empty but now every one was full. No, not full, packed. Stuffed.
Rammed full of children. Every inch of court was taken up by kids. They
were pressed against the fencing like wood-pulp against a shredder.
Most were on their feet but many were lying, writhing on the ground as
their fellows stamped upon them in ignorant frenzy. The red clay
beneath them glistened with what I took at first to be tears, before I
realised that the courts were concrete, not clay and so the children
must be writhing in blood. Every child was screaming. The faces
squashed against the meshing were bloody and torn from the abuse of the
metal links. I could see noses and fingers sticking out through the
fence as the children were pressed harder and harder against it. As I
watched, a young boy at the front slipped and fell and his tongue -
trapped by the fence - was ripped out by the force of his fall. It
stayed there for a moment, wedged in an octagon of wire, before falling
limply to the ground on my side of the fence. The boy was immediately
crushed by the weight of the mass above him. And even through the
screams I heard his bones snap. I tore my eyes away from him and back
to Marvin. He had his tennis racquet in hand now, and I saw for the
first time that it wasn't wooden after all, but metal, and that one
edge was honed to a razor's fineness. He was opening the gate and
beckoning to me. I screamed.
"NO!"
Marvin was dead eyed and passive. "You must."
"But I CAN'T!"
"You must."
He took my hand in his and led me through the gate. And suddenly we
were outside my front door, and he was holding it open for me.
"All truths are within," He said. "All secrets will be found."
I staggered through into my hallway and heard the door slam behind me,
rattling the plates in the kitchen. It was over, thank God. Trembling,
I stumbled into my living room and collapsed into the chair by the
window. I kept my head bowed, listening for his footsteps, scared to
look up in case I saw him walking past the window with his
tennis-scythe and his toothless mouth. It was at that moment that I
woke up. And saw Marvin walking past the window. I screamed, and it all
went black.

I woke up to find PC Harriman crouching over me, his eyes tense and
concerned. The eyes softened in relief as he saw that I was
conscious.
"You gave us quite a scare sir." He said. "We thought we may have lost
you."
I looked around. I was still in my living room, but I was on the floor
at the foot of my chair. I felt a breeze on the back of my neck and
shivered. Harriman, observant as ever, turned his head away from me and
spoke to someone I could not see.
"Close the door would you Pete - he'll catch his death."
I heard a thud and the breeze stopped. Footsteps, and Pete, whoever he
was, was back in the room. Harriman was watching me again.
"Do you think you can stand sir?" He asked. " If you can we can sit
you in your chair - the paramedics will give me hell for moving you,
but you can't stay on the floor."
I mentally flexed all my joints. They seemed to be working. "I can
stand I think, just give me a second?"
With Harriman's help I hauled myself to my feet and collapsed in my
chair. Echoes of my dream reverberated round my head as I did so. I
shuddered and involuntarily glanced towards the window. Through the
glass I could see several policemen and at least one television
camera,
"What's going on?"
"It's the reconstruction sir. We found a lad who looks just like young
Graham and got him to re-enact his last walk home. Just to try and jog
people's memories. It's exactly a week ago you see, so people might be
in the same places they were then?"
I nodded shakily. A reconstruction. Not Marvin. And not the ghost of
Marvin either. I let out a breath of relief.
"The paramedics will be here in a moment sir, just to check you over.
You had a nasty fall." He gave a conspiratorial grin. "And I don't mind
telling you - you gave us a nasty shock too, screaming like that. The
boy had to go home he was so scared. He was finding it hard enough
anyway, but when you screamed at him? I think he's probably still
shaking.."
I looked up and found that those eyes were traps again. I looked back
down at my lap. There was a long silence as I waited for him to ask the
obvious question. Eventually he did.
"Why DID you scream sir? I think I'd like to know." He paused. "Was it
to do with the reconstruction perhaps? Was it because you saw the
boy?"
My hands were shaking now and I clasped them together, hiding them
between my legs to stop their traitorous cries.
"Erm...no, Constable." I stammered. "I just had a very bad dream? I
fell asleep you see and?." I trailed off. Harriman was still looking at
me penetratingly. "It was a very frightening dream." I finished lamely.
Harriman looked as if he was going to push it further but just then two
paramedics came through the door and took charge, so he had to let it
go for the moment. But I had a feeling that it definitely was just for
the moment - he would be back.
"I'm alright." I protested feebly as the paramedics took my pulse.
"Just a fall. Really?" I kept up my protests until Harriman had
reluctantly left the scene and then I fell silent, contemplating what
had happened. Eventually the medics concurred that I was indeed all
right and left me in peace too.

I didn't think I would sleep that night but I did. And I didn't dream
at all.