The Stuff of Nightmares Read online

  Steve nudged my side, almost breaking my ribs in the process. Man, I wished he’d stop doing that!

  ‘Kyle, d’you wanna have a go?’ he asked, indicating the very latest portable games console in his hand.

  I glanced down at the screen. Cross-hairs were trained on some creature, its face a mouth filled with razor-sharp pointy teeth and nothing else. I shook my head.

  ‘You sure?’

  I nodded. Typical Steve! He didn’t own a single game which didn’t involve blowing holes in something. People, aliens, mutants, rabid dogs – Steve didn’t care. If the game didn’t involve guns, it didn’t involve Steve either. Yet in our class, he was the one always prepared to give others the benefit of the doubt. And he’d hand over the shirt off his back without even being asked. Steve told me a while ago that his dad was beginning to question what his son wanted to do with the rest of his life once he left school.

  ‘My dad has become an absolute nightmare,’ he admitted. ‘All I hear these days is “the army this” and “the army that”.’

  ‘Tell him you’re not interested,’ I advised.

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?’ Steve shot back. ‘Dad loved being in the army and now he’s dropping all kinds of unsubtle hints about me following in his footsteps.’

  But at least Steve’s dad gave a damn. That counted for a great deal.

  ‘I’ll have a go.’ Perry leaned forward and tried to snatch the game console out of Steve’s hand. Steve pulled his hand back indignantly but that didn’t stop Perry. Frowning, I turned to look back out of the window as Perry and Steve got into it.

  ‘Just one quick go, you selfish git!’ Perry complained.

  ‘Back off! I mean it.’ Steve leaped up, his arm up and out of Perry’s reach.

  Perry jumped up. ‘Go on, give us a go,’ he insisted, still leaping up and down.

  I must admit, it did make me laugh. Perry resembled a terrier jumping up for snacks, his blond hair flopping up and down over his face as he leaped.

  ‘Oi!’ Miss Wells shouted from further down the carriage. ‘Behave, you two. If I have to come over there and sit between both of you, I will.’

  Steve and Perry sat down immediately, but that didn’t stop the fight for the console. Usually I would’ve been in there, joining in on one side or the other – it didn’t matter which.

  But not today.

  Ten minutes later the train slowed then stopped, but not at a station. The signal ahead of us must have turned red. Shame, really. We’d really been moving there for a while. The grey clouds had delivered on their earlier promise and now the rain was really teeming down. The wind slammed the rain into the train windows, making it difficult to see much. The minutes ticked by and still we didn’t move. How much longer were we going to have to sit here? I looked out of the train window, wondering what was holding us up. A signal failure? Engine trouble? The wrong kind of rain? I’d heard enough people moaning about the train service to know it didn’t take much.

  It wasn’t even as if the view was anything to take a photo of either. This railway bridge we’d taken root upon was way above a busy city street, and all around us there were office blocks – high, ugly buildings with tiny windows. Outside, on Elena and Conor’s side of the carriage were any number of train tracks, at least five pairs that I could just about see from my seat. But on my side there was only the edge of the bridge, with a low brick wall separating the train from the road below. I craned my neck to look down. We had to be at least three storeys above the ground. The people rushing around below looked like blurry beetles scurrying to get out of the rain. Where were they all going in such a hurry? And was it worth it?

  Maybe Dad got it right, after all …

  Funny how I was beginning to think that more and more often recently.

  Searching for the cause of the faint unease that stirred within me, I looked around. Joe, opposite, pointed to Steve and Perry, who were still bickering. I shrugged, then turned back to the window. Joe didn’t say much at all. If he raised his hand in class it was a miracle. But when he did speak, somehow everyone shut up to listen. I wondered where he’d be in ten years’ time, twenty years, thirty? I could imagine him running some vast company making multi-trillions, a diamond fist in a velvet glove.

  Sometimes, I found myself wondering what we’d all do once we left school. Would we still remain mates or would we go our own separate ways? Where would I be in ten years’ time? My trouble was, I had trouble thinking that far ahead. My friends all had plans. Perry wanted to be something artistic, he wasn’t quite sure what. Maybe a film director. Steve wanted to travel the world. Joe wanted to study medicine at university. He wanted to specialize but he wasn’t sure in what. Maybe psychiatry. My mates had it all sorted. I didn’t. What was the point? I mean, look at my dad. He’d had plans, big plans, for the rest of his life with Mum. They were both going to retire in their early fifties and move down south, maybe to Devon or Dorset. Those were Dad’s choices.

  ‘Fitz, I think I’d rather move up north than live down south,’ said Mum. ‘My mum and two brothers are up north.’

  ‘God spare us from your family,’ said Dad.

  ‘I could always go and live up there by myself,’ said Mum.

  ‘That’ll be the day,’ laughed Dad. ‘What on earth would you do without me?’

  Mum didn’t answer. Funny how she never bothered to answer that question.

  Mum: Fitz, could you take the rubbish out please?

  Dad: Of course, love. What would you do without me?

  Mum: Fitz, the computer isn’t working.

  Dad: Hell, Londie! Can’t you do a damn thing for yourself? What would you do without me?

  Without me … Without me … Without me …

  Slowly I became aware that it’d gone quiet. I turned to find my friends watching me.

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked.

  ‘You were light-years away again,’ said Joe. ‘What gives?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I shrugged.

  ‘Liar. Go on, tell us what took you so far away.’

  I glanced at Steve. Even though he said nothing, I could see from his expression that he thought he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. And he wasn’t far off either.

  ‘If you must know, I was just wondering where we’ll all be in twenty years’ time.’ It was as good a story as any.

  ‘Joe’ll be working for his brother,’ said Perry cheerfully.

  ‘Perry, don’t even start with that crap,’ said Joe. ‘I’m not in the mood. Not today.’

  ‘That’d be your worst nightmare, wouldn’t it? But who knows? It could happen,’ Perry insisted.

  ‘Perry, shut up,’ Joe said with menace.

  ‘Come on then,’ urged Perry. ‘If that’s not your worst nightmare, what is?’

  Joe’s lips, like his eyes, were getting narrower and more pinched. I shook my head. Perry never did know when to back up and back off.

  ‘See what you’ve started,’ Steve said to me.

  ‘What’re you so afraid of?’ Perry asked Joe directly.

  ‘Perry, I’m going to deck you if you don’t shut the bloody hell up!’ said Joe harshly.

  ‘OK, Joe. Calm down,’ said Steve, with mild surprise.

  Seems I wasn’t the only one who had unpleasant things on my mind.

  ‘Well, he gets on my nerves.’ Joe scowled. ‘He’s worse than Jon – and that’s saying something.’

  The last thing any of us wanted was to get Joe started on the subject of his twin brother, Jonathan. I’d met Jon just a few times. There was smug, then there was arrogant, and then there was Jon.

  ‘So how is your twin anyway?’ Perry asked on a deliberate wind-up.

  ‘The less said about him the better,’ Joe snapped.

  ‘Joe, what’s up with you and your brother? In primary school you guys used to be so tight,’ said Steve, ever the peacemaker.

  ‘Used to be,’ Joe said pointedly.

  ‘Joe, maybe you should l
et it go,’ said Steve as gently as he could.

  ‘Steve, maybe you shouldn’t go there,’ I warned.

  ‘Let what go?’ asked Joe, the tone of his voice giving all of us frostbite.

  But for once Steve wasn’t going to take any kind of hint. ‘OK, so Jon passed the entrance exam and got into Peltham College and you didn’t,’ he said. ‘Is our school really that bad? Are we really so terrible?’

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Joe.

  ‘Then what is?’ asked Steve.

  I must admit, I’d been wondering the same thing.

  ‘The point is,’ Joe said, exasperated, ‘that had our positions been reversed, I wouldn’t’ve gone to Peltham College without Jon.’

  ‘Bullcrap!’ Perry barely let Joe close his mouth before launching in. ‘If you’d got into Peltham and your twin hadn’t, it would’ve been “hasta la vista, brother” – and you know it.’

  ‘I’m telling you, I would’ve turned the place down,’ Joe insisted. ‘I wouldn’t’ve gone to a school that didn’t take Jon as well.’

  ‘Well, if you’d turned down a place at one of the best private schools in the country just because they didn’t take your twin brother, then you’re an arse,’ said Perry, tactful as ever. ‘Which is probably why you didn’t get in. Your brother obviously has all the brains in your family.’

  ‘Uh-oh!’ Steve muttered.

  Joe was a nanosecond away from going nuclear. The scowl he gave Perry spoke volumes. And anyone but Perry would’ve shut up.

  ‘What’s that look about? Stressy much?’ asked Perry. ‘Or is it your time of the month?’

  Joe launched himself at Perry. It took both Steve and me to pull him off.

  ‘Enough! Joe, you need to take a chill pill, and Perry, you need to change the subject,’ said Steve firmly. ‘Unless you want Miss Wells to split us up.’

  ‘He said—’ Joe began furiously.

  ‘We all heard what Perry said,’ said Steve. ‘But what he meant was that maybe it’s just as well it wasn’t your decision to make.’

  ‘Meaning …?’ Joe frowned, his attention now directed at Steve.

  ‘Meaning I know you and your brother are inseparable – or rather, you were – but sooner or later you both had to go your separate ways and do your own thing. That’s just the way life works. Maybe Jon realized it before you did, that’s all.’

  Joe sat so far back in his seat, I’m surprised he didn’t fall through it. Each of us got a look that was pure daggers before he turned to look out of the train window.

  ‘What did I say?’ asked Perry, rubbing his arm where Joe had managed to get a punch in.

  ‘Leave it, Perry,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t believe all this started just ’cause I asked Joe about his worst nightmare,’ said Perry petulantly. ‘It didn’t even have to be about his brother. My worst nightmare is being buried alive. See? I’m happy to share! So what’s the problem? Kyle, what’re you most afraid of?’

  Perry obviously wasn’t going to shut up.

  ‘Oh, come on, Kyle,’ he wheedled.

  ‘I thought we were dropping this subject,’ I tried, knowing it was futile.

  ‘I’m only asking,’ Perry persisted. ‘So what is it? Or don’t you ever have nightmares?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I said impatiently.

  Perry looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to carry on. When I didn’t, he turned with an exasperated huff to Steve. ‘What about you, Steve? What’re you afraid of?’

  ‘Disappointing my dad,’ Steve replied immediately.

  Perry nodded, with no smile or witty, snitty comeback for once. Enough said.

  ‘And you, Joe? What frightens you?’

  ‘Me …’ said Joe, his eyes burning into Perry’s.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I frighten myself,’ said Joe, the merest hint of a smile twisting his lips. ‘So what must I do to the rest of you?’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Perry. ‘I’m serious. What scares you, Joe?’

  Joe shrugged and smiled. Perry gave up on him.

  ‘Your turn, Kyle. What’s your weakness?’

  ‘I’m afraid …’ My mates were watching me. I could feel my face glowing warm. I changed my mind and decided not to confess to the thing that scared me the most. I plumped for one of the things that still made me … anxious; had always made me anxious. ‘I’m afraid of ghosts.’ One look at my friends’ faces and I instantly regretted the admission.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Perry scoffed. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  I shrugged. ‘As the saying goes, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Perry, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”’

  ‘Where’s that from?’ asked Perry. ‘Star Wars?’

  ‘Shakespeare’s Hamlet, you moron,’ I replied.

  ‘My name’s in Hamlet?’ said Perry, astounded. ‘Cool!’

  I opened my mouth, only to snap it shut again. Joe looked at me and smiled ruefully. At least he wasn’t angry any more. The train finally began to move. ’Bout time too!

  ‘Go on, Kyle, have a go,’ said Steve, trying to thrust his game console at me again.

  ‘No, thanks,’ I said, exasperated.

  ‘Why’re you being so dry?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not. I just …’

  Steve regarded me, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Give it here then,’ I said with a sigh.

  I’d barely got my hand on it when all at once there was a colossal bang like nothing I’ve ever heard before. So loud, it was like the whole world exploding. And beneath the bang there came the sound of metal twisting and crunching and crushing, like the train carriage ahead was being chewed up and spat out.

  Our train had been hit. Hit hard.

  Our carriage was slammed backwards, then began to tilt up sharply. I pitched forward, then fell back. Joe and Perry opposite fell towards me as the train was pushed up at a sharp angle.

  That’s when the train began to turn.

  To actually flip over.

  2

  WITHOUT WARNING, THE train smashed back down on its side again. And the noise … Glass shattering, crashing and smashing, and metal bolts popping. My body flipped and flopped like some kind of rag doll. I might have been a piece of paper caught up in a tornado for all the control I had over it. My head slammed against something hard; after that I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, think anything above and beyond the ringing in my ears and the fireworks exploding behind my eyes. The sky, the train, the carriage disappeared and the world was just a wash of pain and darkness. I groaned; then I disappeared too.

  The day of the letter began the same as any other. I went to school, I spent about an hour at Steve’s house, playing his latest computer game and listening to some tunes, then I went home. I’d like to say that the moment I set foot in the hall I knew something was wrong. But I can’t say that, ’cause it’s not true.

  ‘Mum?’ I bellowed as soon as the front door was shut. ‘Mum?’

  No answer. Maybe she was in the shower or the garden or something. I couldn’t smell anything cooking either, which was more unusual. I ran upstairs to my room, taking the stairs two and three at a time. I glanced into Mum and Dad’s bedroom as I passed. The envelope taped to the dressing-table mirror had me backing up. And even when I saw it, it still didn’t click. I walked over to the dressing table. Anthony was written on the envelope in Mum’s bold, upright writing. And that’s when the hollow feeling inside me first appeared, tiny and still, but definitely there. Anthony … Mum never called Dad Anthony. Our surname was Fitzwilliam so Mum always called Dad Fitz, or Tony if she was really annoyed with him. I pulled the envelope off the mirror. It was tucked in, not stuck down at the back, so I opened it. There was one sheet of plain, white A4 paper inside. I unfolded it and began to read.

  Dear Anthony,

  This is a hard letter for me to write but it’s been a long time coming. I’m going away. Please don’t try to find me. You’ve spent most
of our marriage telling me that I’m nothing, I’m useless without you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s true. But I need to find out for myself before I’m too old or too afraid to leave and have some kind of life of my own. You never listened to me when I tried to tell you how I felt, but hopefully you’ll listen to this. Don’t try to find me, Anthony. I don’t love you any more. I realize now that I stopped loving you a long time ago. It’s taken me too long to admit it. Kyle can stay with you until I sort myself out. I’m no good to him or anyone else the way I am now. I hope you can understand that if nothing else.

  Yolanda

  I read the letter twice and then a third time, my heart trying to punch its way out of my chest. I folded up the letter and put it back in the envelope, exactly the way I’d found it. I opened the fitted wardrobe on Mum’s side. The emptiness within was only sporadically broken by a few bare hangers and the odd dress or two that would no longer fit. I opened up the chest of drawers, second drawer down. Empty. Just torn brown paper lining the bottom.

  Mum …

  She didn’t love Dad any more.

  She’d left Dad.

  She’d left me.

  I went to my room and pulled on my trainers and my sweats. Grabbing my keys out of my school trouser pocket, I walked out of the door and headed down the road. I had no idea where I was going. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be home when Dad came in from work. I didn’t want to be home when Dad found the letter. I started to run.

  * * *

  … is this what it’s like? … how it feels? … stillness and silence after a world of noise and pain and panic? is this what it was like for him? did he gently slide or was it more of a screaming fall? why have I never considered the moments – the moments just before and during and just after? guess I was too busy considering the method to think about the manner. am I dead? this is no way to die, not like this … this isn’t fair … my head hurts … pain … that’s a good sign – right?