Free Haunted Fields by Dan Moore

searching through the crowd for blonde hair, an elderly man sporting a walking cane rose gingerly from his seat and stumbled out onto the steps.
    â€˜Granddad! Look out!’
    The hunched figure collapsed back into his seat, the blow cushioned by his irate granddaughter.
    â€˜He had a hip replacement last year, you idiot!’
    Customers turned up ahead upon hearing the commotion, parting as he charged for the door. He pushed his way through people desperate to escape, no one wanting to get held up in the multi-storey next door.
    â€˜What’s the rush pal?’ a ruddy-faced man bellowed.
    He reached the exit, stumbling out into the corridor, the door held open by a disinterested attendant. Moviegoers from the screening of a different film streamed out of an exit across the way. Brilliant! thought Freddie. He’d never find him now! Who’d come up with the scheduling? Even he knew two packed screenings leaving simultaneously would cause problems. He’d a good mind to fill out a form and drop it in the suggestion box.
    If only he was six-foot-six, he’d be able to glance over the sea of heads, pick the Noel lookalike out no problem. A group gathered outside the toilets slowed the fleeing moviegoers, forcing them into a bottleneck. Bumping shoulders with strangers he pushed his way onwards until suddenly, he reached the atrium. He’d lost him, blown his chance.
    The residents of Ravenby-le-Wold would go on being paranoid, would continue drawing their curtains before dark, hurrying home in groups. Madness! But perhaps they enjoyed the mystery, the fear it induced, thought Freddie. Life could be tedious, especially in a place so remote the local bus service passed through just twice a day. Noel’s ghost gave them something to gossip about, something to scare their kids into behaving themselves with.
    â€˜If you’re not in bed before dark Noel will get you,’ was one expression he’d already heard.
    He’d come to a standstill, agitated figures squeezing past him, hurrying to beat the rush to the car park. He knew he might as well wait for the others or even go back to meet them, explain why he’d left in such a hurry. He didn’t doubt they’d think him crazy. Did Scarlett think she’d had a lucky escape? Lucas and Jess would have a right good giggle at his expense.
    Turning back towards the corridor he’d just emerged from, he scanned the crowd. Where were they? Why were they taking so long? Surely a teaser scene hadn’t followed the credits… Does the film seriously merit a sequel? he thought, frustrated. The smell of hotdogs kick-started the rumbling in his stomach. All this hard work had messed up his appetite. He peered across at the confectionary counter and froze. It was him – it just had to be him! Unkempt blonde hair, patched up jacket.
    â€˜Hey!’ Freddie shouted.
    Several people shot anxious glances his way, one elderly lady backing away from him.
    â€˜Oi!’
    This lad held the key to Ravenby-le-Wold’s salvation! thought Freddie. He couldn’t lose him a second time. Freddie sprung like a greyhound from a trap, his knees buckling, his shoulder crashing into something solid. Popcorn rained down on him.
    â€˜What the–’
    Gasps, squeals, a rumble of disapproval.
    As the blonde-haired lad turned to face the commotion, strong hands seized Freddie firmly around the waist.
    â€˜Outside! Now!’
    His ears were on fire, the sensation quickly spreading all over his face and down his neck. It wasn’t him, the features far too blunt. The hair was blonde, the clothes not exactly designer, but it certainly wasn’t the Noel lookalike from the public footpath. What a fool he’d been! Who was he to accuse anyone else of being paranoid or obsessed? As he was escorted roughly from the atrium he heard pounding footsteps, and Lucas’ proud voice:
    â€˜Freddie, whatever’s the problem?’
    â€˜I