Free Silent Children by Ramsey Campbell Page B

you've got things you need to think about."
    "Nothing that won't keep. I just thought you might want to concentrate on driving."
    "Am I that scary? I've been trying to take care."
    "You're fine. I've never felt safer," Leslie said, and found she wasn't exaggerating out of politeness after all—he certainly never made her feel compelled to brake with her feet against the front of the cabin, as Roger used to whenever he saw the slightest opportunity to overtake. "So how long have you been over here? Is this your first time?"
    "First time out of the US of A for Jack Lamb, and as I said to your friend at the shop, just me, not my books."
    "Let's hope before long it's both. And by the way, I wouldn't want you to think I was laughing at you back there, just at that awful man not realising where you came from."
    "No mistaking that once I open my mouth though, huh?"
    "Not much," Leslie said, and waited while he braked as the lorry swayed left into Harlesden. "So how long has it been?"
    "The cops would be after me in California," he said, and she had to deduce the offence was having flashed his headlamps to invite a woman in a Mazda to steer across his path. "Forgive me, you were asking how long ..."
    "How long you've been in the old country."
    "Got you. Just a few months. I'm staying with some friends in Hampstead that I met at a concert in the Bowl. That's as close as some of us Hollywood types get to your kind of music."
    "I should think that must be pretty close."
    "You wouldn't if you'd heard half the audience applaud whenever they thought the symphony was over. At least I knew better than that. It was apologising to Charles and Liz because I'd heard they were English that started us getting acquainted."
    "So are you in films? That's to say, are your books?"
    "I'm not a performer in either sense, I have to tell you. Wes Craven's office asked my agent about one waste of paper, but that's the only query I ever had a name for."
    "It's researching your new one that's brought you to England, then."
    "It's the people who are making me want to stay."
    "Tell me if I'm asking too many questions."
    "I don't see how. You'll want to know about me."
    That struck her as somewhat presumptuous, yet disconcertingly true. She'd known him less than an hour, and she had no idea how he might react to the disclosures she had still to make, and so there was no point in liking him as much as she already did. At least now they'd crossed the North Circular Road, requiring her to direct him through the suburban streets. In two minutes they were in sight of Jericho Close, on the corner of which Mrs. Lancing, never a favourite neighbour of Leslie's, was in conversation with another woman. The Nova swung into Jericho Close and cruised to the end. "This is it," Leslie said.
    So it was, and she didn't feel ready. Was she going to take him through the house before she told him what he had to be told? Apparently so, because now she had climbed out of the Nova and was preceding him along the path. She reached for her keys and heard someone calling her name—rather more than calling. Mrs. Lancing's partner in conversation was approaching with a purposefulness that drove all expression out of her face, which looked tightened by the ponytail that rendered her head too small for the large frilly blouse blossoming from her terse skirt. In a moment Leslie recognised her from having exchanged not much more than guarded greetings with her once at the school: Shaun Nolan's mother.
    What had Ian been up to now? Nothing, Leslie suspected, that she wanted Jack Lamb to hear as his introduction to her household. She unlocked the front door and gave it a push. "Go right in," she said, and faced Mrs. Nolan, only to find her staring into the house. Before Leslie could turn she heard a little girl's cry along the hall.
    She felt as though her keeping the secret of the house had caused it to manifest itself. As she swung round she had to grab the doorframe for fear of losing her