Free The Kind Folk by Ramsey Campbell Page A

dressing-table, and the room isn't equipped with a desk. He dumps the journal on the bed and primes the percolator that's elevated on a shelf. When he sits on the bed the cover of the journal stirs like the lid of a box whose contents have grown restless. "Let's see what you're hiding," he says in the voice of a policeman he used to portray for all the Arnolds, and throws the ledger open.
    The smell of stale paper rises to meet him and then settles on underlying the scent of the room. The ledger isn't just a diary, Luke sees now; Terence seems to have used it to record ideas for stories. HORSEMAN RIDES SO FAST HIS TOP FLYS OFF + HE CANT FIND IT... HIGHWYMAN BEING CHASED GETS CHOPED IN HALF BY A TREE  ... Luke knows where those came from but prefers Sophie's inspiration, and is disconcerted by the misspellings; could those have been the secret Terence wanted him to keep? ANGEL LOSES HALO + CHILDREN PLAY WITH IT FOR A HOOP, A DEVIL WHOSE HIS ENEMY TRISE TO STEAL IT FROM THEM ... SCULPTER FINDS BITS OF GREATEST STATUE EVER MADE + WHEN HE MAKES A STATUE WITH THEM IN ... Apparently Terence couldn't think how to develop this one. BOY GOES TO HIS FIRST DANCE AT MIDSUMER + HALF THE MEN HAVE LEGS LIKE ANIMALS  ... That's more akin to the tales he told Luke. None of the entries identifies the properties where he found the relics; the first one that does refers to John Strong's house.
    It was added later than the date on the page, in a different ink that doesn't reappear for several pages. The original entry celebrates the granting of the demolition contract by the city council. After that the diary grows more terse, often with just a few words to a page, and some phrases read as though they were meant for only the writer to understand. CAME INTO MY HEAD is followed by LIKE DREAMS and then NOT MY DREAMS, possibly suggesting that Terence found he didn't like them after all. The thought is greeted by a choked hiss at Luke's back and an outburst of liquid bubbling. "Coffee for the mister," he says like a waiter at the tapas bar he and Sophie frequented when they were at university, and pours himself a cup somewhat tempered by a packet of powdery cream. A bitter sip sends him back to the journal.
    SHOWS WHERE THINGS STAYED ... The coffee doesn't help his mind grasp that, but doubtless BROUGHT MOON IN refers to the ironwork at the houses—the gleeful moon framed by open hands. GO TO LIBRARY must have been important, since Terence underlined it thrice, infecting the page with an inky rash. LEFT PAPERS THERE may be the explanation, and COPY DOWN comes next, followed by SAYS IT BRINGS BLESSING . That seems obscure if not actually secretive, and Luke finds it disconcerting. It's dated less than a year before he was born.
    He remembers Terence telling Freda and Maurice they were blessed with Luke, but that needn't mean he helped, even if he thought he did. The jottings in the diary don't prove that: FEEL FULL MOON isn't comprehensible, and a few days later FELT WHEN IT WAS is as bad. ONLY WORDS might be summing itself up as a phrase, and the next one is JUST LIKE PRAYING . By the time Terence wrote it Freda knew she was going to have a child.
    It wouldn't be Luke, and the thought leaves him feeling hollow. He may have made a virtue of imitation, but he has yet to come to terms with being one. The journal is reminding him with references to the situation: not just FREDA RADIENT but presumably LIT FROM INSIDE and also BIGGER AND BRIGHTER . Months before the birth Terence is thinking up names— LUCIUS + LUCIA COME FROM LIGHT —and it occurs to Luke that even the name he calls his own is just a substitute. He turns another page, rousing its introverted smell, and feels as if he has missed the birth. In fact there's no entry for the date, but three days later Terence wrote LUCAS HERE .
    Perhaps the entry is so brief because he was disappointed that the Arnolds didn't use the name he liked. Surely it can't mean he knew they had the wrong