Child's Play Read Online Free PDF

ears, held her breath. A fat bumble bee flew near and Susan swatted it away. Was there jam on her face? Do bees even like jam? The bee was still too close for comfort. She flapped both hands until it buzzed off.
    Still not a sound from … Susan stiffened. What was that? A splash in the stream. And another. She angled her head towards the noise. It wouldn’t be Pauline; the kid knew better than to go near water on her own. Years ago a toddler had drowned in that stream and every parent in the village warned their kids not to play there. Anyway it had stopped now. Susan relaxed. It would’ve been a frog or a bird or something.
    She dashed to the next tree then slowly peered round the trunk. Her nose wrinkled when she caught a whiff of smoke. She knew it was from a ciggie ’cause her dad smoked and she hated the smell on him. Odds on it was Alfie Marsden. He’d built a den in the copse and was always skulking there having a crafty fag. His mum had caught him last week puffing away on one of her Woodbines. Betty Marsden was only four foot ten but she’d marched the big lummock straight to the village bobby who’d given him a right telling-off. He probably wouldn’t have understood though. Susan’s mum said Alfie had the mind of a child. Other folk called him a gentle giant. Susan had overheard lots more comments but those were the kindest. She reckoned a lot of the village kids were cruel to Alfie but he couldn’t help being a bit slow. Besides, he was always kind to her and Paul—
    Pauline.
Where the devil was she? The little madam must have found a new hiding place. Darting keen glances left, right and centre, Susan sneaked to the next tree then the next then the next. Not so much as a peep. She did clock a dead useful bit of wood near a clump of dusty nettles though. Crouching down, she disentangled the fallen branch from the weeds and stripped off a few twigs. She held it this way and that. Abracadabra! It could be anything she wanted: walking stick, cane, sword, rifle, spear. Susan was pleased as punch with the find – just wait until she showed Pauline.
    Clutching the stick, Susan tiptoed into the clearing and stood very still, just like the statues in the churchyard. A smile played at her lips. She’d have to sprout wings to be like those statues. She strained her ears so hard she thought her head would burst.
    Right. Only one thing for it, she’d have to play the usual trick. Never mind squeal, Pauline sometimes wet her pants when she heard Susan’s scary voice. Taking a deep breath, she cupped her hands round her mouth. ‘I’m coming to get you. Come out, come out, wherever you are.’
    The birdlife emerged all of a flap. The sudden loud cacophony of squawks and snapping twigs startled Susan so much she ducked instinctively and very nearly lost her footing. She felt a right idiot and just knew she’d have beetroot cheeks. Thank God no one was watching. Pauline certainly couldn’t have seen or she’d have split her sides laughing. Susan frowned. She couldn’t have heard the monster voice either. She must’ve ventured further than normal.
    Susan cupped her hands again and yelled louder. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are.’ Waiting. Listening. She’d have to shout even louder: ‘I’m coming to get you.’ Not a bean. But the scary voice
always
worked. Cross now, Susan stamped her foot. What was Pauline playing at? The little madam had better look out or she’d be in for a damn good slapping.

SIX
    S arah studied her face in the bathroom mirror. Nordic colouring was all well and good but a whiter shade of pale? Either she’d looked better or new lighting might be a sound investment. Hands round the sink, she leaned forward and peered closer. The mauve shadows might well colour co-ordinate with the dove-grey eyes but the combined effect put her in mind of an anaemic vampire. She fumbled round in a