Trick Or Treat?

Would a scary encounter in a dark lane lead to more Hallowe’en surprises…?

Beth collects more than sweets

It was Hallowe’en. Well, the closest Saturday to it. True to form, it was cold as I stepped out of the house. Beyond cold. Freezing.

The sky would have been black if not for the blue light of the moon being enough to silhouette the trees that lined the desolate country lane.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this alone.

If it weren’t for the fact I was holding aloft a carved pumpkin in the vain hope of the flickering candle inside being bright enough to stop me from tripping through a pothole, or pile of manure, I would have held the hand of my eight-year-old daughter walking alongside me.

“Come on, Mum. We have to get to Mrs Fletcher’s house before she runs out of sweets. She always has the big size ones. Twirls, and Crunchies, and Rolos, and Wispas, and –”

“Okay, Maddie, I get the picture. I’m navigating as fast as I can.”

Why, oh why, did I think Morticia Addams needed to wear heels?

I was starting to wish I had come trick or treating dressed as Wednesday Addams and made Maddie come as Morticia. Then I would have been the one skipping along in plimsolls.

“Can I run ahead?” Maddie asked, twizzling one of the braids that fell across her shoulders.

“No, darling. It’s too far and it’s dark. Stay with me. We won’t be very much longer, believe me.”

A gust of wind hit us as we came to a break in the hedges and trees, where one side of the lane broke off into a farm path. The farm was fifty metres or so back from the lane, and had been lying empty for as long as we had lived in the hamlet.

It was a shame, really. It was a big property with adjoining land. With some skilled hands, it could be beautiful. But no one had lived there since the old farmer had died years ago.

There were a lot of theories about how and why. Some say the farmer was murdered by his wife and his spirit remains in the house, threatening to haunt any newcomers. Others say there was a long, drawn-out probate battle over the estate.

Whatever the reason, tonight the place looked sinister in the dark. Not helped by the wind blowing the chimes that hung on the porch, making them ring out an eerie tune. Goosebumps ran the length of my arms as we passed by, making me pick up my pace.

“Come on, Maddie. Now who is being slow?”

She ran to catch me up and this time I held the pumpkin in one hand, taking my daughter’s hand in the other. The chilled ends of her fingers bit mine as I tugged her along, increasingly keen to get farther down the lane, where we would turn onto the most populated street of the hamlet, where the level of civilisation extended to twelve large homes.

Of course, it hadn’t been enough that we had left the suburbs to move to this remote spot two years ago. Oh, no, my husband had insisted we buy the home at the far end, nearly a kilometre away from any other house.

I could kick him now – for lots of reasons, in fact.

A RUSTLE in the HEDGE. Justarat, I told myself. NOTHING to be AFRAID OF

As we rounded a bend in the path, another swathe of wind hit us, so strong it lifted my long black dress around my ankles and blew my hair across my face. An overhanging tree creaked. In the distance, horses neighed restlessly. A dog howled.

At least we had the flickering light of the… Oh no!

The candle in my pumpkin went out and Maddie wrapped her arms tightly around my waist.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as my daughter. “We’re nearly there.”

Right then, the hedges ahead rustled in the darkness.

Just arat, I told myself firmly. Nothing to be afraid of. Then again. Louder and closer. Afox. Just afox. Then a giant figure burst from the hedges in front of us.

The figure’s roar was masked only by Maddie’s scream. I held her to me as the figure rose to full height and came into sharper focus. I was looking at… a boy.

“Jake! I told you not to do that,” a male voice called.

Then the owner of that voice appeared. A tall, broad man, who grabbed the boy – presumably Jake – by the nape of his neck. It was more of a paternal than an aggressive hold, though, I noted. “Get here, Jake. Apologise.” The kid duly muttered a barely audible apology.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” I said, rubbing Maddie’s shoulder soothingly. “We’re fine. Aren’t we, Maddie?”

My daughter nodded, then said, “Mum, that’s the new boy in my class I told you about. He’s always in trouble.”

“Maddie!” I admonished. The man laughed, rather tightly. “It’s OK,” he said. “We’ve been having a few teething problems since we moved here, haven’t we, kiddo?”

Jake was now walking on ahead. Though he was largely a silhouette, I could see he was trailing a stick along the hedges. His shoulders were rounded sulkily and he was scuffing his shoes with every step.

I smiled at the man – which he probably couldn’t see – and held out a hand, which was rather more visible. “I’m Beth.” He took my hand. Warmth, despite the weather, penetrated my cold skin. There was something about his contact that felt nice. It had been some time since a touch had felt more than superficial. Since something had tingled inside me like static, standing the fine hairs of my body on end.

“I’m Nathan. Or Nate.” He gestured down the lane. “Are you going that way?”

I nodded, concentrating more on trying to make out the outline of his face and in the process noticing…

“Is that…? Are you dressed as Gomez Addams?”

He looked me up and down, registering my Morticia to his Gomez.

We laughed together and set off along the lane; the full Addams cohort accounted for.

“So, you didn’t scream,” Nate said, when our laughter had subsided. “At Pugsley there, when he jumped out of the bush. You didn’t scream.” I thought about it for a second. “No, I guess I didn’t.” And for some reason, I told this relative stranger, “I think there are a lot scarier things going on for me this Hallowe’en.”

Iwasn’t one for heart-to-hearts, especially with someone I didn’t know, so I stopped short of confessing that taking my daughter trick or treating was not supposed to be my job.

That it had been my husband’s job, until he left us. That the scariest thing I did last Hallowe’en was find out about my husband’s affair. And that the scariest thing about this Hallowe’en was being a single mother.

“I hate Hallowe’en,” I said aloud, yet mostly to myself.

We reached the turn in the lane where the large houses – and their outdoor lights – came into view.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Morticia,” Nate said. It was light enough now for me to see one side of his lips curve up in a cheeky smirk.

“Likewise, Gomez,” I said, unable to help myself flirting with this really quite handsome man.

We stood a beat too long, neither of us speaking, holding each other’s gaze. “Well, I guess…” I trailed off, losing my train of thought and pointing vaguely in the direction of Mrs Fletcher’s house, where Maddie was already determinedly headed.

As I walked away, I glanced back over my black-clad shoulder. His attention was still on me.

With a plastic cauldron now full of teeth-rotting sweets and low denomination change that I’d no doubt have to count out later, Maddie led the way to the next place I absolutely did not want to be.

Karen, one of the busy-bodies of the hamlet, was throwing this year’s Hallowe’en bash.

I was dreading going alone, to a place that would be full of couples my husband and I used to know, together. I was dreading seeing the “ladies of the lane”, as we used to call them, and listening to their constant solicitous enquiries about my life, my divorce, how I was managing to cope, being a lonely, single mother.

The only silver lining was that they always had a healthy supply of gin.

Despite the noise coming from the patio out at the back of the house, I rang the bell at the front door.

Impatient, Maddie decided to run around back to find the other children, where experience told me there would be gazeboes, patio heaters and Hallowe’en themed bunting. Eventually, Karen opened the door. “Beth! Come in, come in.” We kissed cheeks and complimented each other on our costumes. Karen made a rather scary Corpse Bride.

I followed her into the house – an old converted farmhouse with a modern mezzanine interior, high ceilings and retained stone walls. The whole hamlet and more faces I recognised from Maddie’s school and the nearby village filled the space, chatting animatedly, with wine and beer in hands.

It was the third time I had been to a hamlet bash alone – last Christmas and the summer fete being the first two. It didn’t get any easier but I glued on my smile and let Karen lead me by the arm toward the kitchen.

“Beth, you must come and meet your new neighbour,” she said.

“New neighbour?” I asked, looking through the windows to spot Maddie playing with other kids outside.

“Oh yes,” Karen said, with a glint in her eye. “He’s bought the old farm right behind your house. He’s staying in the village for now, while he does it up. He’s a builder, apparently.”

She rocked into my side with a smile. “We could all use a handyman now and then, couldn’t we?”

I smiled back, trying not to roll my eyes. Karen really was a busybody.

We reached the kitchen where a group of ladies were so engrossed with what or who they were gathered around that they didn’t even register my entry. Karen moved us into the group. “He’s a widower,” she whispered. “Relocated here with his son.” The last thing she said before the others made a gap for us to break into the group was… “He’s a real dish, too.”

Why, oh why, did everyone try to set me up these days?

I glued on MY SMILE and let Karen LEAD ME by the arm to the KITCHEN

When the group fell silent, I looked up from my feet to see the focus of their attention. From the centre of the circle, his eyes were fixed on me – and he looked even more attractive in the light.

“Morticia,” his said, his voice slick and smooth.

I took in his olive skin, his dark features and the dimple at the side of his damn-sexy half-smile. “Gomez,” I replied archly. “Well, I guess this means we’re going to be neighbours.”

A wave of something sickly sweet made my stomach twist. My heart rate increased.

“Certainly looks like it,” was all I could manage to say as my mind fluttered with a giddiness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hallowe’en really was filled with tricks and treats. And I would appear to have had my quota of tricks.