Leave the Last Page by Stephen Barnard Page A

screen.
    â€˜I remember when you played games with real dice, of all different shapes and sizes.’
    â€˜Still do,’ muttered Dan, who pointed to a shelf. Ben noticed the collection of dice there, alongside some painted figurines of monsters and warriors.
    â€˜Good to see not everything’s on a screen these days, then.’
    Dan looked up, frowning. ‘Is there something you want, Dad?’
    â€˜No…just making conversation.’
    â€˜Well, if there’s nothing else…’
    It’s just like me and my Dad
, thought Ben.
I’m about to be sent out of a room in my own house by a fourteen-year-old.
    â€˜There is,’ said Ben.
    â€˜There is what?’
    â€˜There is something else.’ Ben looked at all the fantasy-themed paraphernalia around him.
Why not?
he thought. ‘I want to talk to you about a case I’m working on.’
    â€˜Dad, you’ve never talked to me about your work – every time I asked you said you weren’t allowed to.’
    Ben sat on the bed. ‘Well, this case isn’t going to be mine come the morning, and I’m not sure police work can sort out what I’ve experienced today.’
    That got his son’s interest. ‘Have you had a murder to deal with?’
    â€˜No, police tend to cope with those quite successfully. This has been stranger than that. That’s why I thought you might be able to help me make sense of it.’
    At that Dan let the laptop slip to the side.
    Ben knew he shouldn’t really share all this with his son, but he had to talk to somebody about it, and there was probably no one more likely than Dan to accept even a fraction of the day’s events.
    â€˜Okay. You know Sunnyside old folks home…’
    He told Daniel everything: the dead old lady, the busted patio doors, the abandoned wheelchair, the missing pair, the story pages, the transformed grass, the shattered fountain, the frogs and the mushrooms and the scary,
scary
wolves.
    Dan took it all in; nodded at key moments, asked questions when necessary. At no point did he laugh, or disregard anything that Ben said. It was the most attention Dan had paid him since he used to read him bedtime stories.
That’s what all this sounds like, that’s why,
thought Ben.
    â€˜You say you’ve got copies of the story pages? Can I read them?’
    Ben said yes, went down to the kitchen, grabbed them with a couple of Cokes, and re-joined his son.
    After fifteen minutes studying the pages, Dan picked up the laptop again. ‘I want to show you something, Dad. I think this will blow your mind.’
    Dan showed him. And Ben’s mind was blown.

    *
    It was late, but Ben felt he should still make the call. Mr Holliday answered. ‘Alex,’ said Ben. ‘I just wanted to let you know that there won’t be a detective on your case come the morning.’ There was a few seconds while Ben listened to Alex’s annoyed response. Then Ben continued: ‘I’ll still be at your house bright and early though. Yes, I’m going to take some leave. I can’t walk away from this. I want to help you look for your son.’

CHAPTER SIX

    TOM LOOKED DOWN AT HIS LEGS AND STILL COULDN’T QUITE BELIEVE IT.
    They were in an empty warehouse. Grandma had found a loose window above some bins and they managed to climb up and slide in. Now he was sat on a pile of pallets, but every so often he would swing his legs, just to make sure that they still worked. There had been times today when the strength had left them, and reality had started to slip back into his world. At those points they’d taken a rest and chatted, sometimes about what was happening on this crazy day, but sometimes about ordinary things like changing schools, keeping busy in the holidays, Grandma’s stories about Greatgrammy Aisling, and of course, Grandma’s cool walking stick. It was covered with stickers, most of them promoting the bands and