Won second prize at the Cambridge Writers Short Story Competition 2107<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a fair-sized gathering. A few friends and neighbours, some aunts and uncles, a couple of cousins. His parents liked to throw a party now and again, and their Hallowe\u2019en night had become a fixture, so by tradition some of the guests had come in costume. Stephen, aged nine, was draped in a sheet with a pair of peep-holes, and Mike, aged thirty-seven, was wearing a vampire mask. As usual, there was a good spread on the table. His mum had made sandwiches and sausage rolls, and Emmy from next door had come with a cake she had made. It was wrapped in a band of silver foil and decorated with cobwebs in piped icing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beryl was there, of course. He had met her before; she was becoming a regular. But he was never quite sure who she was, where she had sprung from. He had an idea that Gran had met her at a s\u00e9ance, but this was difficult to ascertain since the family seemed reluctant to admit that Gran attended s\u00e9ances. Gran was a gadabout and belonged to all sorts of clubs, so it was less embarrassing to suggest that she had met Beryl at a whist drive or a tea dance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He disliked Beryl, though he would have found it hard to say why. He just felt uncomfortable with her. Was it that she blew smoke everywhere and smelt of ash? Was it her voice, deep and husky like a man\u2019s? Was it her jewellery, which seemed only to highlight her wrinkled skin? Perhaps it was her beady green eyes, or the flash from her gold teeth. Anyway, he always kept his distance when she was around and had never really spoken to her beyond a few brief exchanges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mum laid a hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Paul,\u2019 she said, \u2018why don\u2019t you give us a tinkle? I\u2019m sure Beryl would love to hear you play.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Oh no, please,\u2019 he groaned. \u2018I don\u2019t know any party pieces, do I?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I wouldn\u2019t let that bother you,\u2019 said Beryl. \u2018Play whatever you like. We\u2019ll lap it up.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She nudged him towards the piano, and reluctantly he sat himself down at the keyboard. He knew that she played the piano herself. In fact, someone had told him that she had once been part of a dance band, and his mum described her as having a nice touch. But he was convinced she had no wish to hear him play, that she was simply going along with his mum\u2019s idea. His mum was always showing him off, seeking praise from people she looked up to. But why she should look up to Beryl was a mystery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He glanced over The Ritual Fire Dance<\/em>, the piece displayed on the music stand that he had been practising for the past week. He took a deep breath, slammed into the opening trill and then stormed all the way through to the end. In his haste, though, he became a bit unstuck in the final bars. He shook his head, feeling annoyed with himself. He could play the piece well enough when no one was listening. If only he were more confident. If only he could learn to slow down and not take everything at a rush.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The listeners, however, broke into wild applause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Splendid,\u2019 declared Beryl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His mum laughed nervously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Oh now,\u2019 she said, \u2018be honest.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018No no, I mean it.\u2019 Beryl smiled wryly and her mouth flashed. \u2018That\u2019s coming along nicely. Some parts need a little more work, but he knows that.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well, thank you,\u2019 said his mum, appropriating the compliment as if Paul were an exhibit \u2013 a musical toy or trinket box. Then she and Beryl, chatting confidentially, wandered off for a word with Gran. The others, however, were standing around as if for an encore. Well, to hell with that! He jumped up smartly and slunk off to the kitchen, where he helped himself to a ham sandwich. There was no one there, thank God \u2013 or at least until his cousin Rosemary turned up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Hello, Paul,\u2019 she said with her sheep\u2019s eyes. \u2018That was nice.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018That thing you played.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I flunked it \u2026 or didn\u2019t you notice?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n She giggled. \u2018Oh, you are <\/em>funny, Paul.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was always mooning around him. He wished she would shove off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018D\u2019you know Bertolini\u2019s, Paul? The coffee bar on the Parade? Me and Sandra often go there.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well, you won\u2019t want me barging in then, will you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He hastily finished his sandwich and sloped off into the garden. Unfortunately Brian was out there, the idiot from up the road who spent every hour polishing his two-seater convertible. He was wearing a skeleton outfit and snogging Marcia, Mrs Pascoe\u2019s niece. They broke apart when they saw him and she adjusted her dress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well, well, here he is, the ivory tickler \u2026 So now then, Paul,\u2019 Brian swung his hips and snapped his fingers, \u2018how about some boogie-woogie?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Paul frowned. \u2018Sorry \u2026 I don\u2019t do boogie-woogie.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Brian and Marcia brayed loudly. There was an awkward pause, and then Paul, turning smartly, re-entered the house, where his mum was inviting everyone to eat. A slow drift towards the food began and he joined the queue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After tea, noticing that Beryl had disappeared, he feared another ritual was about to begin. And sure enough, some time later his mum clapped her hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Listen, everyone,\u2019 she said. \u2018The moment has arrived. The moment you\u2019ve all been waiting for. Yes, I\u2019ve again persuaded Beryl to do some fortune-telling.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Oooh.\u2019 A ripple passed through the room, as the guests turned to each other with little gasps of excitement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018So now, who\u2019s it to be? Who\u2019s the first victim?\u2019 His mum glanced around roguishly and winked at Gran. \u2018Or should that be volunteer?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were some moments of hesitation, but then Meg waggled her fingers in the air and gave a little shriek of laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Attagirl, Meg.\u2019 His mum slapped her on the shoulder. \u2018So off you go. Beryl\u2019s waiting for you in the kitchen.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Meg rose, looked around giddily and scuttled off with a rich cackle, pulling the door behind her. Loud chattering broke out instantly among the guests, who were soon so engrossed that he seized the chance to slip away unnoticed. He bounded upstairs to his room. Fortune-telling! What idiocy! As in previous years, he would not be drawn in. Besides, he had no wish to be locked up in a room with Beryl. And on Hallowe\u2019en! He sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, his legs extended, and mused for a while before snatching up his book from the bedside table. He would read another chapter and then go back, by which time the excitement might have faded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But when he re-entered the sitting room, his mum spotted him instantly. \u2018Good timing,\u2019 she called out. \u2018Now come along, Paul. Your turn next.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Look, I don\u2019t think so. It\u2019s not my thing, is it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ah, go on, lad,\u2019 his dad shouted. \u2018Don\u2019t be stuck up. Don\u2019t be a spoilsport. Don\u2019t be a wimp.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wimp! He hated that word. It was a shaming, bullying word. A word that was always on his dad\u2019s lips. But he glanced around the room and every face said the same. Ah, go on, lad. Don\u2019t be a wimp<\/em>. So clearly there was no ducking out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shrugged. \u2018Okay,\u2019 he said after a pause. \u2018I mean \u2026 what the hell.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Attaboy,\u2019 Gran whooped, and everyone laughed and applauded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the kitchen he found Beryl seated at the table. She glanced up with a tight smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Come in, Paul,\u2019 she said. \u2018I won\u2019t eat you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He sat down opposite her. She gazed at him for a few moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Tell me if I\u2019m wrong, Paul,\u2019 she said, \u2018but I get the impression that you\u2019re a wee bit sniffy about this kind of thing.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shrugged. \u2018Oh, I dunno \u2026 I guess it\u2019s just a bit of fun.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n She gave him a long straight look. \u2018It\u2019s whatever you want to make of it,\u2019 she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He studied her intently, never having done so before. Her face was sallow and heavily lined. She had a touch of bright red lipstick and kept drawing deeply on a cigarette. Her hair was wiry and rust-coloured with patches of grey. He assumed it was dyed. He noticed again that flash whenever she opened her mouth. She shuffled the pack of cards and then spread them face-down on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Anyway,\u2019 she said, \u2018choose.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He picked one up. Three of diamonds. She stretched out a hand and he gave it to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Again\u2019, she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Queen of hearts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And again.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ace of clubs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She placed the cards face-up in front of her and studied them intently, all the while blowing jets of smoke out of the side of her mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018So tell me about yourself,\u2019 she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Like what?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Like what you hope for \u2026 what you want to be.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shrugged. \u2018Oh, I dunno \u2026 I\u2019m not too sure, am I?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Okay,\u2019 she said. \u2018So what do you like doing?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I like reading \u2026 playing the piano.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ah, yes.\u2019 She smiled indulgently. \u2018That sultry Fire Dance thing.\u2019 Plenty of crackle at the start, her smile said, but not enough blaze in the finale. \u2018So who\u2019s your favourite composer?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Liszt\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Liszt?\u2019 She raised an eyebrow. \u2018And you\u2019d like to make a career in music?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shrugged again and hesitated. \u2018Yes \u2026 I\u2019d like to compose.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Compose?\u2019 She leaned back, fixed him with an arch look and then took another pull at her cigarette. \u2018Anyway,\u2019 she said after a while, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling, \u2018let me see your palm.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He held out his upturned hand and she pulled it towards her, studying it closely and sometimes running a finger along the creases.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018So tell me, Paul \u2026 are you happy?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He snorted and shifted. \u2018Am I happy? \u2026 Yeah, sometimes.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What about friends? \u2026 You do<\/em> have friends?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He frowned and stared hard at her. \u2018Of course \u2026 What d\u2019you mean?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Okay.\u2019 She smiled sweetly. \u2018So tell me about school.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Like what?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You\u2019re not popular, are you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He flinched. \u2018I don\u2019t think I\u2019m un<\/em>popular.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I didn\u2019t say you were.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She released his hand and turned back to the cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well, then, let\u2019s move on.\u2019 She took another draw of her cigarette. \u2018So tell me, Paul \u2026 d\u2019you have a girlfriend?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Have you ever had a girlfriend?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He squirmed and huffed. \u2018Hey look \u2026 excuse me, but where\u2019s all this leading?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Glancing up, she met his gaze head-on. Her mouth had a little twist at the corner. \u2018Nowhere \u2026 it seems.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n More silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Anyway,\u2019 she said, pulling the cards towards her, \u2018here\u2019s my advice. I see a future in music. So stick with it. You\u2019ve got talent. But get out more and try to make friends. Go to the park, join a club, kick a ball around sometimes. And don\u2019t always listen to your mum. Do a bit of thinking for yourself.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stared at her fiercely, then gave a curt nod. She gathered up the cards and threw him a tough professional smile. He got up and went into the sitting room, closing the door behind him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All heads turned as he entered. He hated it. Being looked at. It was mortifying. He coloured up, felt his face burning. He looked around for somewhere to sit. His mum slapped the arm of her chair, but he shook his head. He slunk to a corner of the room and flopped on the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well?\u2019 said his mum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Everyone was grinning at him, teetering on the verge of laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well what?\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Well what have you learned?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Nothing much.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Oooh.\u2019 The room erupted with disappointment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ah, go on,\u2019 his mum said. \u2018Give us a hint.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n He crooked his legs, clasped his knees. \u2018She didn\u2019t say a lot. She told me to stick with the music.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I bet she said a lot more than that,\u2019 someone quipped, and the room erupted again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You go next, Emmy,\u2019 said his mum, nodding at her. \u2018And I hope we learn a bit more from you.\u2019 She gazed around, looking pleased with herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emmy, a bit on the stout side, rose slowly, brushed her skirt down and glanced at the others with amused apprehension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ah well, here goes\u2019 she said. \u2018In for a penny, in for a pound. And I don\u2019t want any of you listening with a wineglass pressed to the wall.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gales of laughter followed her into the kitchen. She closed the door firmly behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chattering immediately broke out in the living room. He stared at the floor for a while and then glanced up, relieved to be no longer the centre of attention. Rosemary, however, was still gazing at him with that moony smile of hers. He looked away quickly. As for the others, they were talking in groups or pairs and he had no wish to join in. He watched the scene for several minutes, feeling quite detached, as if the people in the room were actors on a stage. With no need to interact, he could observe them closely and yet distantly, so to speak. And from this point of view, how small, vain and silly they all looked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He got up, wandered to the piano and thumbed through his copy of Carnaval<\/em>. He stared fiercely at the passages that had so far defeated him. Tomorrow evening, after school, he would attack them with determination. At the same time he would try to finish that rhapsody he was composing. Polish it up till it gleamed like diamond. He would astonish his mum, astound his teachers and take everyone by storm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He moved to the window. Across the street, two little witches were standing at the door of Number Eleven. One of them stood on tiptoe and rapped on the knocker. They waited for a while and then passed on. He continued to gaze, and from many windows fat pumpkin heads gazed back at him with blazing mouths and eyes. Some had bared teeth and some were simply smiling, but to him they all looked malevolent. He thought of Beryl \u2013 her rusty hair and fags, the flash of gold in her mouth, her knowing look. He thought of his family \u2013 their grins, their smirks, their eager nosiness. He clasped his hands together tightly. So tightly his knuckles began to crack. He filled his chest with air and then expelled it with a loud snort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n