Dark Ride (3 page)

C
HAPTER
5

 

Christmas Lights

 

I swear I hadn’t had a wink of sleep until just before Mum came into the room the next morning. My bottom lip was smushed against the pillow and I opened one eye. She gazed down at me and stroked a bit of my hair away.

‘I’m on a half day today so I thought you could meet me from work,’ she said. ‘We can have lunch together and then do a bit of shopping, okay?’

‘Gur.’

I was trying to say, ‘Yes, mother, that sounds fine, although I am rather tired just now.’ But ‘Gur’ was the best I could do.

She smiled. ‘Meet me outside the Town Hall at twelve.’ She started to bend down as though going in for a kiss, but something made her hesitate and she just patted my hair and left the room.

Maybe it was my morning breath.

On the other hand ... maybe it was something to do with the last time she’d tried to be affectionate.

It was the day we were moving. Mum found me sniffling in my bedroom. I’d been having a last look round and found an old photo when they moved my bed out. It was a picture of Mum and Dad with me as a baby. Dad was looking at the camera and Mum was gazing at him like she was about to collapse laughing at any moment. He’d obviously just said something daft. They looked so happy. Anyway, when she came in, she saw the photo in my hand and tried to put her arms round me, but I’d shoved her away and said, ‘Let’s go, if we’re going.’

I rolled over the memory and went back to sleep.

I was conked out until gone ten. My head was all woolly when I finally got up. I pulled on some warm things and brushed my teeth in the freezing bathroom, the tap drip-drop-dripping in the background.

The first thing I noticed outside was a big people carrier parked by Mrs Longmeadow’s. Maybe she’d offered someone her life savings to come round and listen to her talk.

The second thing was that the sun was ACTUALLY OUT.

Slumpton looked much nicer under blue sky. I could feel my spirits rising like a balloon as I walked towards what passed for a town centre.

The feeling didn’t last long. The Christmas decorations in the shop windows were sparkling in the sunlight and all the trees had little fairy lights.

Don’t get me wrong. Normally, I love Christmas. We’d always have a real tree and the three of us would decorate it together. Dad would sing along in a funny old-fashioned way to our CD of Christmassy songs and Mum would sometimes join in. It wasn’t always perfect though. Last year they had a row about the way the decorations had been packed away, both blaming each other for the broken bits in the bottom of the box, which Mum cut her thumb on. It wasn’t the best. But it was better than the thought of me and Mum facing each other over the turkey on our own.

I tried to force all thoughts of Christmas out of my head. Which wasn’t easy when there was tinsel and cheesy snowmen in all the shop windows. I put my head down and ploughed through the shoppers (all ten of them) towards the Town Hall.

I passed through a small square where a small brass band was playing carols. I stopped to listen, despite myself. ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’, rich and trumpety, filled the air and a memory so powerful popped into my head that for a minute I was right back inside my old life.

Last Christmas.

My class was practising for a carol concert. Ryan Smith’s voice was breaking and kept going from a squeak to a growl and then back again. It was so funny that even Mrs Radley was in fits. Standing there in the main hall, with all the decorations up, laughing, I felt connected to everyone. Like we were lights on a Christmas tree.

It wasn’t going too well, my not-thinking-about-Christmas policy. I sighed and turned to cross the road.

I looked up at the Town Hall – pale stone, sweeping steps and big columns all over the place. Sparkling in the sunshine, it looked like it should be somewhere grander, like London or New York. I leaned back against the wall and watched people coming in and out, my breath making hazy puffs in the cold air.

Mum appeared at the entrance after a few minutes, at the same time as a group of men. One of them was tall and broad, with close-cropped hair. He had an air of authority about him and a tan which surely hadn’t come from Slumpton. His suit was lighter coloured than the others and he wore a brightly coloured tie. Next to him was a thickset man with no neck, who was speaking into his phone. Tanned Man held the door open for Mum and they exchanged a few words and laughed, then with a wave of his hand, he and his companions all swept down the stairs past me. Mum was knotting her scarf around her neck and her smile faltered when she saw me.

‘Hi! Been waiting long?’

‘Who was that?’ I said and she blinked, then turned to look at where she’d just come out in a really obvious way.

‘Who? Oh, that was Mr McAllistair, a local businessman who’s involved in the marina project. He’s very charming.’ She said it like I should be impressed.

‘Hmm,’ I said meanly. ‘Horrible suit.’

Mum’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s a very expensive suit, actually, Bel. I think he dresses very well.’

I thought of the clothes Dad wears: T-shirts with things like
The Ramones
or
The Smiths
on them, black jeans and red Converses. He has soft brown curls and soft brown eyes and Nan used to say, ‘Handsome is as handsome does’. I didn’t know what it meant but you could tell it wasn’t good. She never said anything mean to his face, but she didn’t approve of him being a musician and smoking and not working in an office like boring other dads.

And then Mum expected him to be completely heartbroken when Nan died! I mean, I’m sorry... I loved my granny and I cried loads when she had a heart attack and died so suddenly like that. But Dad had a really late night at a gig the night before the funeral and got up a bit late and hadn’t picked up his one and only suit from the dry cleaners ... and Mum started screaming at him about being useless and unfeeling!

Anyway, at least he knows how to look good. He wouldn’t be seen dead in that horrible suit.

‘Dad wouldn’t be seen dead in that horrible suit,’ I said.

Mum sighed. ‘No, Bel. I don’t suppose he would.’

We had lunch in a café inside Slumpton’s only department store. Christmas was so in my face I could barely look at my baked potato with cheese and beans, jam doughnut and hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. But I managed to force them down. We were by a window, looking over the high street and something made me stand up quickly, almost knocking over my cup.

‘Careful!’ said Mum. ‘What are you looking at?’

I was sure I had just seen Luka again – a lone, lean figure weaving through the crowd. I searched the shoppers below but he’d gone.

‘Nothing,’ I said, sitting back down again, and dabbing at the spilled chocolate with a napkin. ‘Just thought I saw someone I know.’

Mum beamed. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear you’re making friends. Is she nice?’

‘He,’ I said, and her smile slipped. ‘It’s a he and I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend. He’s a complete weirdo I keep bumping into. I think he’s stalking me, as a matter of fact.’ I didn’t really know why I said that. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong really, apart from be a bit weird.

‘Stalking you? I see. Is that why he’s down there going about his business and you’re almost hanging out of the window three storeys up?’

I tutted. ‘It’s not what you think, Mum,’ I said but she just smiled.

She’d never understand. I’m not even sure I did. Luka wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. My friends are always conscious of what people think of them. As though life is something that has an audience. It’s just how we are with each other. (Or were, when I had friends.) But he didn’t seem to care about that. It was like he was in a world of his own. Hanging around abandoned fairgrounds and ignoring people when he felt like it. I wondered where he went to school...

Uh-oh. Now I’d done it.

That was another thought that I’d been trying to push to the darkest corners of my mind.

January 4.

D-Day. The day I started at David Stafford, my new school, with its nasty purple uniform that would never, ever look right. The thought made my stomach twist into an icy knot and pictures came rushing into my head.

Walking into the new classroom with people who’d known each other since they were four all staring at me.

Me standing alone at break time, while girls whispered and pointed in the playground.

Me crying myself to sleep at night, destined to be alone, shunned forever and
...

‘Bel? Are you listening to a word I’m saying?’

‘Huh? What?’

Mum’s eyebrows were almost crawling into her hair.

‘I’m trying to talk to you! Really, Bel, I don’t know why I bother sometimes.’This was followed by one of her Big Sighs. She sounded like a broken accordion lately.

I wanted to say I didn’t know why she bothered either, but I kept quiet.

‘Come on,’ she said in a weary voice. ‘Let’s go.’

I put on my fleece and scarf again, still thinking about school. Luka was bound to go to David Stafford. It was such a small town. Having one familiar face, even if he was probably a year ahead of me, was better than nothing. And I did help him find his key, even if he was supremely ungrateful and weird about it. Desperate times call for desperate measures and even though he would probably be rude again, so far Luka was the only person in Slumpton under a hundred years old I’d even had a conversation with.

I decided he probably deserved another chance.

C
HAPTER
6

 

Gh st Tr in

 

I went looking for him the next morning. I knew that if I stayed still for too long, my brain would rattle with missing Dad and thinking about school. Better to be doing something, even if it was looking for weird possibly homeless boys.

Not that he was easy to find. First, I checked the shelter where I’d first seen him. All I saw was an old lady with a small brown dog she kept yanking like a conker on string.

There was nothing else for it. I’d just have to go back to that creepy old fairground. On the way I passed the marina development. I could hear lots of building noises coming from inside the high wooden fences. A sleek black car drew up and a man in a smart grey coat climbed out of the driver’s side. He had a head like a bullet with no neck and close-cropped hair. I realised I’d seen him before, at the Town Hall. He paused and stared at me, rudely, as though I had no right to be there, then went round to the other side at the back and opened the door. Sure enough, the other man, Mr McAllistair, climbed out, speaking into his mobile. He gave me a sharp look too and I put my head down and scurried away. There was something a bit menacing about both of them.

It was only when I got to the turnstile that I realised the ticket had been swallowed up before and I couldn’t get in. I gave one of the bars a little push, but it didn’t budge. It was a stupid idea anyway. I didn’t even know why I had come. I put my hands deep into my pockets and turned away.

But someone was suddenly right there next to me and I cried out, falling against the gates and my heart ba-booming like crazy.

‘You nearly frightened me to death!’

‘Got you back for the other day, then!’ He stopped smiling when he saw I was rubbing my side. ‘Sorry.’

‘Yeah, right.’

Now he was here, I didn’t have a clue what to say. I didn’t want him to think I was looking for him.

‘Looking for me?’

‘Uh, no!’ I said, my treacherous face burning straight away.

He just grinned, annoyingly. ‘So how’s it going, Aa-nnaaa-belle?’

‘I told you not to call me that!’

He laughed. ‘Sorry, you just look funny when you’re angry. Like this ...’ He made a hideous face.

I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. ‘Shut up!’ I said. Now that I was looking at him properly, I noticed his long dark eyelashes. It was suddenly really hard to look him in the eye and I blushed a bit, staring down at my feet.

‘Fancy coming inside and having a look around?’ he said, putting me out of my misery. But something held me back. I looked through the turnstile at all the boarded-up stalls inside. There was something about this place.

‘I’m not sure

‘Suit yourself,’ he said crisply and neatly vaulted the turnstile.

‘Wait!’ I shouted, not ready for him to go yet. ‘Go on then,’ I said casually. ‘But I’m not jumping over there.’

Luka got a small blue roll out of his jeans pocket. ‘Here,’ he ripped off a line of tickets. ‘Be my guest.’

His fingertips brushed mine as he handed the tickets over. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘your hands are cold.’

Luka just looked away.

Five minutes later, I was shrieking and laughing as he smashed his dodgem car into mine. He seemed to think he was Lewis Hamilton or something, even though the cars were all peeling and rusty and falling to bits. After a while the power ran down and we both climbed out, grinning.

It was like someone had switched him on too. It made me wonder why he didn’t smile more. He looked ... nice. More than nice, and I found it hard to look at him close up again.

‘Where did you get the keys to all this from, then?’ I asked.

Luka didn’t answer straight away and I wondered what I’d said wrong.

‘My mum works ... worked here,’ he said eventually, his eyes skimming away from my face. ‘In the turnstile booth mainly, taking tickets. She had lots of different jobs really, but this was the best one. She taught me how to work everything.’

‘Must have been brilliant when it was open,’ I said, ‘getting all those free rides.’

‘Yeah,’ said Luka and smiled. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘check this out.’

He led me over to a dusty glass box. Inside there was the head and shoulders of a policeman doll. Its cheeks were painted with faded red blobs and its eyes were all starey and weird. It looked exactly like the kind of thing that would come to life in a horror movie and chop everyone to bits.

I shivered. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a laughing policeman,’ said Luka and gave the top of the box a thump. Some tinny music started up and then the little doll began to vibrate, its hinged mouth chopping up and down.

‘Hahahahahaha! Ho ho ho ho ho! Hahahahahahaha, ho ho ho!’ It went slower and slower and then stopped.

‘Creepy, isn’t it?’ said Luka. ‘Used to be terrified of that when I was a kid. Come on, I’ll show you something else.’

He walked over to the ghost train with its gappy sign. The hanging plastic strips gently rippled in the wind. Luka started fiddling with an electrical box on the side and there was a painful clanking of metal as a row of cars screeched into view.

‘Go on then,’ he said, gesturing to the nearest one. ‘Hop in.’

‘What? I’m not getting in that piece of old crap!’ I took a step back.

Luka did a pretend shocked face. ‘I’ll have you know that this was once a very fine example of a 1960s dark ride! That’s what they call these things, my mum says.’ He paused. ‘But I didn’t realise you’d be chicken.’

‘It’s not that,’ I lied, cheeks burning. ‘It just doesn’t look very safe, is all.’

‘What do you think’s going to happen?’ scoffed Luka. ‘This isn’t exactly Alton Towers in case you hadn’t noticed. But, if you’re scared of a few cardboard skeletons...’

I clambered into the little car and slammed down the safety bar. ‘Go on, then. What are you waiting for?’

Luka pressed some more switches and the car jolted forwards again.

‘Mwhahahaha!’
said Luka in an old horror film voice.
‘Prepare to enter your worst nightma-yers!
The sound effects don’t work any more,’ he added, normally. ‘But feel free to scream.’ He gave a sly grin. ‘You know what they say about this fairground, don’t you?’

‘What?’ I said, as a worm of anxiety burrowed into me.

‘Haunted,’ he said with a huge grin. ‘People have always heard weird noises here when no one else is around.’

‘Yeah, yeah, Luka,’ I said. ‘Just get on with it.’

The car lurched forwards and I passed between the dirty black strips.

Inside, it was dimly lit. The walls were hung with black material with tatty plastic bats stuck all over them and a dummy of Frankenstein’s monster, covered in fake cobwebs, was there to greet me.

It was all about as frightening as a basket of newborn kittens.

The entrance to the next bit was shaped like those
Scream
masks you get at Halloween and the little cars trundled through the big mouth and into the next room. In this one there were lots of coffins stuck to the walls and a huge cobweb was strung across the ceiling. (That bit looked worryingly real.)

A plastic vampire in a cloak stood at one side. It only had one arm and an expression like a bad case of wind. The cars lurched forward again and swung around a corner, this time revealing a few pathetic skeletons hanging from the ceiling, one of which no longer had a head. A fake hatchet made from rubber fell out of the wall. I knew it wasn’t meant to fall so far because I could see the broken wires sticking out the back. It dangled there, bouncing gently, and I started to get the proper giggles.

‘Ooh, I’m so scared, Luka,’ I called back to him.

The car swung around another corner, but I didn’t get a chance to see what was in there because, at that moment, the car shuddered to a stop with a clanking groan and all the lights went off.