Chapter 1

ICURYY4ME

It was there again, somewhere in the darkness of his bedroom. Just beyond the foot of his bed. Moving and breathing. Exactly like the night before.

Heavy with sleep, Max struggled to sit up, squinting into a solid wall of blackness. As his brain swirled in and out of the weird dream, he held his breath so he could hear above the thumping in his chest and the rushing of blood in his head. It was the same dream returning: the one about the old house next door…and the child-catcher lurking somewhere inside.

Max froze. It didn’t make sense, but he was certain he wasn’t alone. In the stillness of his room he heard the faintest murmur, like a dying sigh. Was it just his dressing gown sliding to the floor from its hook on the door – or something else? Maybe something ready to grab him?

‘Who’s there? Dad, is it you?’

His croak was swallowed by the stifling darkness.

By now he was shivering. He heard something brush along the foot of the duvet, almost within reach. Apart from the red 01.46 on the clock radio beside his bed, his world was totally black. There wasn’t even a grey smudgy outline of the curtains around the window. He stretched his arm to fumble for the switch on the bedside light but his hand struck the lamp, knocking it over in a clatter of dinosaur models. His scrabbling fingers couldn’t find the switch.

Groping ham-fistedly through the broken limbs of a triceratops, Max was sure he heard the door whisper over the carpet. His thumb at last hit the switch and light burst across his screwed-up eyelids. From just outside his room, Max heard rustling followed by a creak of a stair. He clambered clumsily over his bed as the front door clicked softly downstairs.

Frozen in terror, he swallowed hard to ease the strangling tightness in his throat.

‘Dad? Are you there?’

Max’s legs were trembling as he strained to hear his dad breathing heavily in the next room. Why did his dad always sleep so deeply when it came? But waking him was never a good idea. The last time Max had tried to convince him about the ‘thing in the night’, Dad had made him feel really stupid.

‘For goodness’ sake, stop imagining things. You’re a bit old to be worried about the bogeyman from under the stairs by now. You’ll be eleven soon, for heaven’s sake.’

Of course, in the cold light of day, it did seem stupid. Why would anyone creep into his room at night and disappear without a trace? But now he was sure he hadn’t imagined it. It was definitely more than a dream. His dream – where he’d been ringing the creepy neighbour’s doorbell and the front door flew open, flashing light across his eyes… That was when he’d woken. Suddenly he knew it was a blade of light that had sliced into his dream; torchlight on his eyelids before he’d heard the click of a switch and all went dark.

Max was absolutely certain someone had been creeping around his room with a torch – and an open opportunity to throttle him in his sleep.

With his eyes now accustomed to the light, he sat on his bed and gazed around his room. His dressing gown lay on the floor like a crumpled body, slumped by the slightly open door. He was sure he’d left it shut. The rucksack he brought when he came to stay with his dad was in its usual place on the chair but he knew without doubt he hadn’t tied the drawstring at the top. Now it was tied, in a bow. He never did bows.

Even more mysteriously, Max’s autograph book was open on the desk. He knew very well he’d closed it just before he’d gone to sleep. The last thing he’d done before getting into bed was to admire a signature from the footballer who’d visited school that day. But now the open page glared at him, for it was the page signed by Gran a few years before:

YY U R

YY U B

I C U R

YY 4 ME

LOL Gran

Even now, Max wasn’t sure if the LOL meant ‘lots of love’ or ‘laugh out loud’. The rest of the code still made him smile: ‘Too wise you are, too wise you be, I see you are too wise for me.’ It had taken him a while to work it out at first but now it seemed very simple.

Max was shivering uncontrollably. He scrambled back into bed, but there was no way he could sleep. What if burglars had broken in? What if Dad’s house was haunted? What if the child-catcher had crept in from the big old house next door? The one in his dream.

As he lay with the light still on, staring blankly up at the ceiling, Max was relieved that soon he’d be back home with Mum on the other side of town, when she came back from her holiday. She always said it was the ‘not so posh part’ but he didn’t mind. He’d never been woken in the night in his room there, where he didn’t have to worry about a presence by his bed – with a torch.

Grey light eventually began to bleed into his bedroom through the heavy curtains. Birds started calling from the trees, then clattering on the roof as the dawn chorus grew to a crescendo. Max slid out of bed and pulled the curtains back. A blackbird was drinking from a puddle on the flat conservatory roof just below his window. He watched it fly off and perch on the high wooden fence then flutter down onto the lawn next door. He stared in disbelief and sighed. ‘That’s all I need.’

In the misty dawn light, Max could just make out a shape in the middle of the neighbour’s dewy lawn. It was his football. However had it got there?

So now he had two things on his mind:

1. Had he really been woken in the night by an intruder?

2. Did he really have to go to that creepy house next door and ask for his ball back?

Max sighed again, crawled back into bed, pulled the duvet over his head, curled up tightly and tried to get back to sleep. He failed. He dreaded having to uncurl in a couple of hours and go downstairs where his dad would go completely ballistic at discovering they’d been burgled.

But to his immense surprise, on the dot of 7.30, Max heard a cheery call rise from the foot of the stairs: ‘Max, up you get – time for Coco Pops!’