Story so far: Jack and Elaine are concerned about their young son Liam, who is exhibiting signs of great and eccentric fearfulness. They are also doubtful as to the influence of his friendship with Petie, the kid next door - the only son of the Oswalds, who young Liam believes live in a state of fear. It is the night before Liam’s eighth birthday, and Jack has just tucked him into bed.
Jack quietly moved to turn off the bedroom light, shut the bedroom door firmly behind him – Liam, unlike any other child Jack could name, was truly terrified of light from the corridor spilling through his bedroom door at night – and padded down the hall to Elaine, and bed.
She was warm and muzzy from near-sleep. Elaine hit the hay the same time as Liam nowadays to make sure she got a full head-down before her cruelly early 2am shifts at the bakery. But she wrapped a protective leg over Jack as he lay down beside her.
“Bad news,” said Jack as he felt her fingers caress his temples and her lips blow on his neck. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”
“Petie?” Elaine sighed. “You knew he wouldn’t invite anyone else, Jack. And I told you not to ask him about any parties.”
Jack pulled his wife’s arm over his chest like a talisman. “You sure did, o wise one. Liam’s okay about the birthday, but when it comes to guests at the festivities, Petie’s all we got. Elaine, I hate that kid. He’s unnatural. It’s the way he seems to tap into Liam’s world and make it worse, if anything. The way they swap fears like - I don’t know – like bubblegum cards. That’s not what it’s meant to be to have a pal. Remember the tree incident?”
“I sure do,” said Elaine, “but I’m dog-tired. Do we have to talk about it now?”
“I guess not.” Jack shut up, and listened to his wife breathing. It was light and measured, the breath of someone wide awake. She knew him pretty well, alright.
“The one thing Liam loved to do was climb trees, wasn’t it? He wasn’t afraid of any tree. The higher, the better. It was so unlike him, and so like a normal boy.” Jack swallowed back a small hard knot of frustration.
“I know,” said Elaine.
“Him and Petie were playing in the garden, that autumn when Liam’s oddishness started to creep on real bad. Liam wanted to show Petie how to climb the old apple tree at the back. He was so excited and proud of himself. And Petie was just scared about the whole business, the very idea of climbing the tree, remember? But what freaked him out far more than climbing the tree, even, was the idea of the apples. For some reason, Petie was absolutely scared-stiff terrified of them. He wouldn’t go anywhere near them. Just hovered round the edge of the windfall lying on the ground just under the tree, white as a sheet.”
“I remember,” said Elaine. “Baby, my shift –“
Jack couldn’t stop himself. “And that damn Petie – Liam showed him, Elaine! He took Petie’s hand and he showed him just how to climb up that damn tree! Where to put his feet, how to use the forked branches… our boy was a regular scout. I looked out of the window and it made me so damn happy to see Liam enjoying himself, acting like a normal little boy, and a real little soldier while he was at it. And then something happened at the top of the tree, didn’t it? I was never sure what had occurred, exactly, I couldn’t see past the branches. But he told you.”
Elaine gave Jack a brief hug. “Oh, you already know how this one goes, Mr Elliott.”
Jack kissed his wife’s arm. “Humour me, ma’am. It’s on my mind.”
Elaine clasped Jack and put on her story voice, the one she used to get all the characters just right when she read to Liam at bedtime. “Petie and Liam got to the top of the tree just fine. There was an old vacated nest near the crown, and Liam panicked and knocked it down, and got the heebies and couldn’t climb back down the tree again. And you had to get a ladder and fetch him…”
“But Petie climbed back down the tree smart as a whip,” said Jack hoarsely. “How did he manage to do that? When he was so scared of climbing up? And when they got to the bottom, Liam was suddenly scared of apples, and he sure never was before, and I had to pick him up and carry him through and past the windfall while he screamed, and Petie wasn’t scared of apples anymore, no sir, just walked along behind as I took Liam to the kitchen, and whistled and chomped his way through a juicy red windfaller he’d picked up with his bare hands off the ground. How could that happen? You can’t tell me it’s just kids being strange, Elaine. And how can we let Liam constantly hang around Petie the way he does? Liam’s never climbed a tree since that day, but I see Petie’s gone and built a small platform on the sycamore in his own back garden, and sits there with his legs dangling off the side and leers into my study window without a care in the world. It’s not healthy, hon. Not by a long shot.”
“I know,” murmured Elaine. “I don’t like Petie either, but I’d rather Liam played with him than no-one at all. Now go to sleep, baby, before you give yourself a mental hernia. Or read if you like.” She stroked down his torso and lower and he felt himself respond, so he slid his waiting novel off the eiderdown, and kissed his wife as she leaned over his body to turn off the light.
The next day, Jack was somewhat uncomfortable to find himself standing on the Oswalds’ porch and ringing their doorbell. It chimed with the bim-bam-bim-bom of England’s landmark clock, Big Ben. Jack wasn’t so crazy about the doorbell’s chime. He found it on the pretentious side. He supposed it could be forgiven if the Oswalds had actually travelled in England, but had never concerned himself enough to ask.
He had an hour before Liam got off the school bus and scampered back home. Or, as was more likely, shuffled, avoiding any pavement cracks. Halfway through a few bites of toast that morning, Liam had shoved a piece of paper at Jack and entrusted him with the errand of giving it to Petie before Liam returned from school. Petie wasn’t in school today. Apparently he had a cold. Sure. That was what Liam really needed as a birthday present – a Petie-flavoured cold.
The Oswalds were slow in coming to the door. While he waited, Jack unfolded the paper and smoothed it out between his palms. With a loving childish hand Liam had drawn a big dinosaur on the front, a yellow one with green spots, which wasn’t any lizard Jack had ever heard of. Inside the fold was an invitation to PLEASe Come TO MY PARTY, NO JELLO, DONT BE LAT in big separate letters with the ‘no’ outlined and underlined several times, the only joined-up writing being Liam’s well-practised name.
Eventually the front door clicked and it opened. Sam Oswald stood there in his gardening gloves.
“Sorry I didn’t hear you at first,” he said. ‘I was out back. Gardening sure is thirsty work. You got time for a beer?”
The head of the Oswald family was a good-looking man, Jack had to concede. He had a strong jawline, a sturdy athletic build and that thick crop of that Icelandic-looking blond hair that had, for some reason, made Jack’s son think he must be a man who lived in fear.
“Well, I’m not sure.’ said Jack. “My son’s getting back from school soon.” Nevertheless, he was intrigued – he’d only been in the Oswald residence once or twice before, and it wouldn’t take him long to sink a beer on a sunny afternoon - certainly not a whole hour. He’d be back in time to meet Liam off the school bus, and Elaine would enjoy the gossip, if he could scrounge any up. So he followed Sam through a clean, empty corridor to the kitchen. It was bigger than it used to be when the Sandings - the previous neighbours and initial owners of Mister Purcell – had lived there.
“You’ve done some work on the place?” he asked as Sam Oswald pulled a couple of cold ones from the fridge.
“Sure,” said Sam. “The wife insisted. She likes to cook for an army, and runs her kitchen that way, too. This is her place. Mine is the conservatory out back – let’s head on through there, catch the last rays.”
Jack looked around as he waited for his beer. The place had a comfortable feel. He could see today’s newspapers, pictures of the family here and there, fresh flowers in a vase on the drainage board. He noticed a bag of pet shop hay under the breakfast counter and gestured to it as Sam Oswald cracked a can open and passed it along. “Hey, Sam. You got pets?”
Sam gave a cursory look to the bag of hay. “No. Been thinking about it though. We tend to plan things in advance here. How the wife likes it.”
Jack watched Sam carefully as he followed him out of the kitchen and through to the ornate glass birdcage that was the conservatory linking the house with the expansive, well-kept garden. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was watching for.
Sam seemed normal enough, sure. The kind of guy you could get on with. But he was Petie’s father. Jack expected to find – something out of place. He didn’t know why.
They picked a couple of garden seats and sat themselves down. The garden looked beautiful in the afternoon light. Jack could see Petie’s damn treehouse nestling in the leaves of the biggest trees.
“Liam asked me give this invite to Petie before he got back from school,” said Jack. The beer tasted gassy and good on his tongue. “It’s his birthday today. I heard Petie had a cold, but to be honest, I hope he can make it. He’ll probably be the only kid that shows up.”
Sam gave Jack a look that said “I feel your pain, brother. I know worry. I’m a father too.” But he didn’t say anything, and took the invitation off him. He laughed when he opened it up and saw the picture. “Hey, Petie told me about it being Liam’s birthday today. He’s upstairs, trying to get well for the big event. So your son’s eight? Petie was tricky when he was eight. Now he’s nine…” Sam shrugged and took a long draught. There was something, Jack thought, on Sam’s mind. He didn’t quite have Petie’s baleful, secretive squint, but his eyes didn’t match the sure smile on his face. Jack thought he was on the edge of something, some truth, but he’d better play this right.
They chatted for a little while about the state of the garden, about Hannah Oswald’s great housekeeping, about Elaine’s job at the bakery and the gastronomic perks thereof. Then Jack turned the conversation round to Liam.
“I sure am glad to have you guys as neighbours,” he said carefully. “Liam’s not like other kids. I guess you’ve noticed, but he was quiet to begin with, and now he’s going through a phase where he’s… scared of things.”
“What kind of things?” asked Sam.
“Pretty much everything,” said Jack quietly. “That’s why I’m so glad he’s got Petie to play with in the afternoons. See, it seems that Petie might have been a little on the shy side when you first moved in –“
“Sure,” said Sam easily. “Moving nerves. Away from the big city to a new town, you know. Really took the stuffing out of him. Hannah and I, we were sorry to see it.”
“Uh-huh. Well, now he seems full of get-up and go. Compared to how he was, maybe. And, see, my Liam’s just getting kind of… worse.”
Jack paused. Sam was looking at him very carefully, even though he was leaning back easily in his swing-seat. He wanted to push Sam, somehow, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. He settled for “Well, I’m hoping my Liam will take a leaf out of Petie’s book. You know? Maybe Petie will be a big influence on him.”
“Your kid seems fine to me,” said Sam, swigging the last of his beer. “It’s just the funny age. With a kid, all ages are funny ages, until they’ve got kids of their own, I guess.”
Jack laughed dutifully and finished off his beer.
“Party’s about five pm,” he said. “I hope Petie clears that cold of his. It will be good to see him there. They get on well, he and Liam.”
“Petie’s looking forward to it,” said Sam. Whatever shadow had brushed across his eyes wasn’t there any more. His face was locked-up and benign, and Jack felt disquieted by it, though couldn’t say why. So, as he rose up to take his leave, he pushed one more time.
“Say, I love your treehouse,” he said. “You build it yourself?”
Sam shrugged modestly. “With a little help from Petie, as it goes. He’s got a little bloodthirsty now he’s older, and didn’t understand why we didn’t need a chainsaw to build it, just boring things like hammers and nails – but it’s lasted a winter, so I guess it will last a few more.”
“Remember that apple tree incident?” asked Jack. “Before Mister Purcell ran away?” He watched for a shadow to flick across Sam’s face, and wasn’t surprised when he saw one. “Liam went up the tree fine and came down scared, and Petie went up the tree scared and came down fine. What do you reckon that was all about?”
“Kid stuff,” said Sam calmly. “They’re always so strange.” And he took Jack’s empty can off him, and made a move – a friendly move – to show it was time to wrap up the chat and head for the door. Like the song said, slip out the back, Jack – your welcome is on the verge of being outstayed.
He let Sam smoothly usher him back through the kitchen, through the corridor – he could hear Hannah Oswald hovering in the living-room beyond - and out the front door.
“Thanks for the beer,” he said.
“No problem,” said Sam Oswald. “Anytime.”
They shook hands and Jack turned away to hear the front door click shut behind him. He felt an odd sense of relief. Yet a nagging suspicion remained that his instinct was on the money, and that Sam Oswald definitely had something to hide.
Elaine and Jack tried to set the party up just right for Liam as he hopped off the school bus and went straight upstairs to his room. Liam was never one for talking when he came home. When pressed, he would say “I saw an apple pie and had to run across the road”, or “Timmy kicked me and I couldn’t kick him back because then he might have touched me with his hand and he has freckles”. Elaine had made a cake at work and a friend at the bakery - Olaya, a warm, motherly woman originally from South Africa with a big laugh and a sure hand coupled with a good eye for colour - had iced it with green flowers.
Jack and Elaine set out the plastic knives and forks and spoons, the cheez-E crap and cake and all those sweet fizzy party things guaranteed to contain enough chemicals to make even the most downtrodden child scream and yell and go wild while their parents huddle in the corner of a kitchen close to the headache pills. They did a great birthday display, but kept the layout small – after all, this was a party with only one guest, and two little plates on the table.
The doorbell sounded promptly at five and Liam ran downstairs to be the first to greet his pal.
Petie stood in the doorway with his ‘momma I just squashed a fly’ expression firmly in place, his father’s hand resting protectively on his shoulder. He was carrying a nicely-wrapped box – probably Hannah Oswald’s work. She was there too, a pretty but jittery woman who looked like she might break if you squeaked too loud. Of all the family, she was the only one you could hand-on-your-heart say looked like she was frightened most of the time. But she hid it well, in neatly-applied make-up and a tailored outfit that was a far cry from Elaine’s comfortable yet truly sexy jeans and unironed shirt.
“Happy birthday Liam,” said Sam Oswald jovially. “Petie’s got a little something for you.” He squeezed his son’s shoulder, and Petie thrust forward the package. Liam recoiled and hid behind Elaine.
“The ribbon has metal in it,” he said fearfully.
Jack looked at the ribbon holding the wrapping paper together – it had golden thread worked into its silk. It looked expensive, and he felt bad on Mrs Oswald’s behalf, for he was sure that she was the one who had taken the trouble to wrap the present.
“Oh, I understand,” said Mrs Oswald, smiling and nodding her head up and down like a small bird. “Our Petie used to have the same trouble with all sorts of things, he – “ she stopped.
“Don’t worry, honey,” said Elaine calmly. “I’ll untie it for you.”
Jack surreptitiously looked at Petie, protected as he was by his parents. Petie had a small grin on his face. Jack knew he’d meant nothing by it, but the way Petie had jutted that package forward – it had had the look of an attack.
The present turned out to be a fluffy dinosaur. With joy, Jack saw that it was purple, not the more usual green – that would be one toy he and Elaine wouldn’t have to hide at night when it was Liam’s time to go to sleep. It had a string. Liam tugged it, and a tinny, chirpy voice came out of the dinosaur’s belly. “Would you like to play with me?” Liam looked questioningly at Petie. Petie nodded. “Sure,” said Liam, and with some sort of little boy’s telepathy they both broke free from their parents and scampered into the kitchen, and although Liam was as quiet as expected, Jack and Elaine could hear Petie’s excitement as he hollered with joy over the cartoon napkins and the cake.
Jack, Elaine and the Oswalds faced each other awkwardly.
“Please, come in,” said Elaine. “We were hoping you’d come over too. There’s plenty of cake for all, and beers for grown-ups, too.”
“Sorry, no can do, Elaine,” said Sam kindly. “We’ve got food cooking back at the house, and our work is never done. Perhaps you’ll come over for a meal someday?”
“Sure, said Elaine.” We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Jack?”
“Sure,” he said, with the same amount of trepidation that he knew his wife was feeling. Liam was right, in his own way – there was something about the Oswalds. He could be damned if he could figure out what. A part of him wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
The Oswalds stepped back as one from the doorway and turned to go, Hannah fluttering a little hand nervously goodbye at them as they went, and Jack and Elaine went back into the house.
Pavel Blov