Read Online Spirit by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online Page A

terrible,’ said Seamus. ‘Salt mole lord’s eye.’
    Mommy groped a cigarette from one of the boxes on the table, but didn’t light it. She sat with her head bent for a long time, not smoking, not drinking. Father said quietly to Elizabeth and Laura, ‘Perhaps you’d better think of taking your bath.’ There was a sense of danger in the room; a feeling of adult unpredictability.
    Suddenly, mommy raised her head. She stood stock still for just a moment, and then she approached the window seat and stared at her own reflection in the night-blackened glass.
    â€˜
David
,’ she said, in the oddest of voices.
    â€˜What is it?’ asked father.
    â€˜David, there’s somebody out there, in the snow.’
    Father peered into the dining-room. ‘Margaret? That’s just your reflection, darling.’
    â€˜No, no it isn’t. There’s somebody out there! David, there’s a child, standing in the snow!’
    Father said, ‘How can there be? There are no other children for miles.’
    â€˜There is! David, there’s a child!’
    Without warning, mommy’s voice suddenly swerved up to an hysterical pitch. She turned around and stared at all of them with her eyes wide and all of the blood emptied out of her face. Father tried to go to the window but she came stalking back into the living-room, pushing him out of the way. She reached the kitchen door. ‘It’s
Peggy
!’ she screamed at him. ‘Don’t you understand? It’s
Peggy
! She’s come back to me!’
    Elizabeth was overwhelmed with dread. She clasped her hand over her mouth and couldn’t do anything but gasp for breath. Laura squealed, ‘Mommy! Mommy!’ But mommy was already wrestling with the key in the back door, and before they could say anything else, she had rushed outside. Through the kitchen window they saw her hurrying across the gloomy garden towards the tennis court, her black veil flying behind her. It was like watching a character in a frightening movie.
    â€˜Mommy!’ wailed Elizabeth, catching her breath. ‘Mommy,
don’t
!’
    â€˜What is it?’ her father demanded. ‘Lizzie, what is it?’
    They ran outside. ‘Mommy,
don’t
!’ called Elizabeth, in terrible distress; but it was already too late. Mommy was screaming, ‘Peggy! Peggy!’ and running across the tennis court to the small, silent snow-angel in its beret and tweed coat.
    â€˜
We
made it,’ sobbed Elizabeth, miserably. ‘Laura and I made it.’ And father said, ‘Oh, God,’ and broke into a run.
    Mommy rushed up to the snow-angel and then she suddenly stopped, and stared at it in horror. She must have encountered its face, its sack-weave face with its empty burned-out holes for eyes and its grinning black raggedy mouth. She swayed from side to side, and then she dropped to her knees in the snow and she let out a scream that was almost inhuman. ‘
Peggy! Peggy! Oh, my baby! Agggrrrhhhh
!’
    Before father could reach her, she had rolled herself over in the snow, and then up on to her knees, and launched herself at the snow-angel in a frenzy of frustration and grief. She pulled off its beret, tossed away its hair, and ripped its face apart with both hands. She clawed, screeching, at the figure’s body, digging out snow as if she wanted to dig out its heart. Then she dropped to the ground and lay flat on her back, shuddering, choking, in a jerking, convulsive fit. Elizabeth could see her eyes roll up into her head and her neck swell: and her feet kickso hard against the ground that one of her black high-heeled shoes flew off. Elizabeth didn’t have to be told what to do. She turned around and ran back to the house as fast as she could.
    â€˜Mrs Patrick!’ she screamed. ‘Mrs Patrick! There’s something wrong with mommy!’
    As Mrs Patrick came bustling out, wiping her hands on her apron, Elizabeth