didn’t know their children at all. However, I was sure the girl across the street must have been Sally Geddie. The protruding chin, you see, is a marked characteristic of Mick, her father.
I just couldn’t believe it though. I’d seen her only the other day… or was it more than a week ago; I’d lost track of time just recently. But no, it couldn’t be the same child. Still, there was a persistent plucking of a chord in my mind that insisted on this girl being the one who was supposed to be missing. I felt like calling in at the police station, but I would be a fool if it turned out to be someone else’s daughter I had seen. After all, lots of kids wear yellow dresses. The nightmare I’d had must have mingled with reality until it had heightened the apparent none-event of my original sighting of the girl; without the dream it was a minor incident little worth further thought. I decided not to go to the police.
Instead, I took myself off to the park for the afternoon, with a book to read and sat on a shady bench and dozed and browsed through a few short stories while the sun dried up the rain that had fallen earlier. It might have been an extremely pleasant afternoon, but I was not to be lucky…
I sat almost asleep when I heard a voice call through the bushes behind me: ‘Mister… Mister,’ it said, ‘want to play?’ I jerked round startled, and in an instant saw those same penetrating eyes peering at me in their frightening way, but this time I was going to remain calm. Ignoring the stare, I stood up, placing the book on the bench, and said, ‘Are you Sally Geddie?’ The eyes blinked, the bushes rustled as she moved about and nothing further was said for a short while. Those damnable eyes still remained however, searing my retinas in unholy steadfastness. Then:
‘Want to play?’ she giggled and leapt out of sight. Further off I heard her shout, ‘Hide-and-Seek!’
I decided to put my embarrassment of children aside and join in the game. After all, I had nothing better to do, and if she was the missing child—though this now seemed most unlikely—I stood a good chance of reuniting her with her parents. So, I took chase.
A large hollow, ringed with trees and thick bushes and containing a pool of stagnant water lay a few hundred yards distant, and it was towards this that I ran where I saw the telltale yellow dress flying. When I reached the warm air under the trees she was nowhere in sight. I was quite hot and panted heavily while looking here and there in the undergrowth. Then a light, tinkling voice escaped from the greenery, ‘You can’t find me,’ it came in a sing-song manner, tempting, teasing. I moved towards where I thought it came from and there was a rustle of leaves and something yellow slid out of sight. I clawed my way through the thorny bushes but she was gone again.
I was now becoming very warm and a little excited. It was years since I’d done anything like this—yes, it was exciting playing hide-and-seek. All the mystery, the tingling terror of finding and being found, all this welled up from my childhood. I was breathing heavily.
‘Sally? Sally?’ I said lightly so as not to frighten her, ‘Sugar and spice and all things nice! I’m coming to find you!’ I passed a huge oak to see the give-away yellow drift past on the other side of the dell. I decided to break out from the trees and run right round the outside of the wooded hollow which would be quicker than negotiating the bushes and ferns, and, as I reached the other side, there came that soft, tormenting voice again, this time a quickly spoken, ‘Can’t-catch-me!’; then the giggling. I panted. Clearing the trees on the inside I came stumbling down the steep slope to stop by the foul, glistening water at the bottom of the hollow.
Above, the trees made a huge arc, allowing very little direct sunlight in to play on the stagnant water, where insects buzzed incessantly over the surface and strange bubbling sounds
I just couldn’t believe it though. I’d seen her only the other day… or was it more than a week ago; I’d lost track of time just recently. But no, it couldn’t be the same child. Still, there was a persistent plucking of a chord in my mind that insisted on this girl being the one who was supposed to be missing. I felt like calling in at the police station, but I would be a fool if it turned out to be someone else’s daughter I had seen. After all, lots of kids wear yellow dresses. The nightmare I’d had must have mingled with reality until it had heightened the apparent none-event of my original sighting of the girl; without the dream it was a minor incident little worth further thought. I decided not to go to the police.
Instead, I took myself off to the park for the afternoon, with a book to read and sat on a shady bench and dozed and browsed through a few short stories while the sun dried up the rain that had fallen earlier. It might have been an extremely pleasant afternoon, but I was not to be lucky…
I sat almost asleep when I heard a voice call through the bushes behind me: ‘Mister… Mister,’ it said, ‘want to play?’ I jerked round startled, and in an instant saw those same penetrating eyes peering at me in their frightening way, but this time I was going to remain calm. Ignoring the stare, I stood up, placing the book on the bench, and said, ‘Are you Sally Geddie?’ The eyes blinked, the bushes rustled as she moved about and nothing further was said for a short while. Those damnable eyes still remained however, searing my retinas in unholy steadfastness. Then:
‘Want to play?’ she giggled and leapt out of sight. Further off I heard her shout, ‘Hide-and-Seek!’
I decided to put my embarrassment of children aside and join in the game. After all, I had nothing better to do, and if she was the missing child—though this now seemed most unlikely—I stood a good chance of reuniting her with her parents. So, I took chase.
A large hollow, ringed with trees and thick bushes and containing a pool of stagnant water lay a few hundred yards distant, and it was towards this that I ran where I saw the telltale yellow dress flying. When I reached the warm air under the trees she was nowhere in sight. I was quite hot and panted heavily while looking here and there in the undergrowth. Then a light, tinkling voice escaped from the greenery, ‘You can’t find me,’ it came in a sing-song manner, tempting, teasing. I moved towards where I thought it came from and there was a rustle of leaves and something yellow slid out of sight. I clawed my way through the thorny bushes but she was gone again.
I was now becoming very warm and a little excited. It was years since I’d done anything like this—yes, it was exciting playing hide-and-seek. All the mystery, the tingling terror of finding and being found, all this welled up from my childhood. I was breathing heavily.
‘Sally? Sally?’ I said lightly so as not to frighten her, ‘Sugar and spice and all things nice! I’m coming to find you!’ I passed a huge oak to see the give-away yellow drift past on the other side of the dell. I decided to break out from the trees and run right round the outside of the wooded hollow which would be quicker than negotiating the bushes and ferns, and, as I reached the other side, there came that soft, tormenting voice again, this time a quickly spoken, ‘Can’t-catch-me!’; then the giggling. I panted. Clearing the trees on the inside I came stumbling down the steep slope to stop by the foul, glistening water at the bottom of the hollow.
Above, the trees made a huge arc, allowing very little direct sunlight in to play on the stagnant water, where insects buzzed incessantly over the surface and strange bubbling sounds
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