She knocks and knocks and knocks because her guts say that Time is shrinking, and isn’t that sick when once she thought there was so, so much?
Misha kneels, shouts through the letterbox, ‘Hello? Caleb? You in there? I know you are!’ Waits to listen for answers, for telltale shuffles or whispers. ‘Damn it, Caleb, you answer this door right now!’
A cardigan and brown corduroy trousers appear in the hall, coming towards her quickly. She bounces up and away from the letterbox. It snaps shut, and she smooths herself upright as if she’s been waiting patiently the whole time. The door opens. Her smile is that of a girl who does not ever bellow into people’s houses. She needs Caleb, not to have a door slammed in her face by displeased grandparents.
She has time to think same eyes, then he grabs the front of her dress and drags her inside. A thousand horror stories shoot through Misha’s head, all worse than revenants and haunted streets, all far too real; Vic Sweet’s grabbing hands. His thick sweat. Rotting trees.
Too late to punch. Granddad’s got her arms. And now they’re in the living room. He plumps her down on a sofa, holds a hand up flat in her face before she can spring back up. ‘If you care for my boy at all, you must listen. Time is short.’ An echo returning to her in someone else’s voice. ‘Knowing Caleb, he is running towards trouble right now, and he is the only thing left that matters.’ He takes hold of her chin, stares into her. Sunny green flecked brown. Like his. ‘I might not be able to say any of this again. I’m fading, understand?’ His hold is too firm for her to shake her head. ‘Caleb, he’s a bright boy, and stupid in so many ways. The world has hurt him badly, and it makes him desperate to put things right, makes him certain that misery must be fixable. He’s gone up there with a head full of this foolishness. My stupid boy thinks he can stop it all.’
Misha is all thumping heart. ‘Maybe he can.’
‘No! I made that mistake once! I thought I could set wrongs right, I thought I could get my revenge and everything would turn out okay. I had no idea what’s out there, what’s coming!’
‘That’s great. Is Caleb up Daisy Hill?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s going to try to talk that lunatic round. He’s stupid enough to believe there’s an element of humanity in him. That man has been working for years and years bringing every single dead soul up there back. There’s not one bit of good left in him. He’s warped; he doesn’t think the world deserves to carry on.’ Misha almost laughs. If Gramps here knew the truth, what would he do to her? ‘I’ve been up there, I’ve seen it all myself.’ He lets go of her chin, picks up the journal. ‘I wrote it all in here! I forgot, but now I remember, but it’s all going again!’
‘Okay, Mister, if I’m going to catch up with Caleb…’
‘Go now, yes! Keep him away from your grandfather. Bring him back to me, before I forget him. Please.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I won’t let that horrible old man get him.’ Misha hangs back in the doorway. ‘You’re sure he’s up there?’
‘Positive! He was very determined.’
She goes, and he wanders into the kitchen, where the light-map hovers. It shows a house next to Daisy Hill. There are blips inside it. More underneath it. A lot more.
On the wall is a photograph of a younger him with some woman. He does not know who that woman is.