The Identical Boy (9 page)

Ally, the babysitter

Ally
wiped the water from her eyes and looked into the mirror. Today was a green sort of a day, and the newly toxic hair colour shone brightly in agreement.

‘Ally was a punk rocker,’ she snarled at her reflection, lip curled, before breaking down in giggles.

She made her way downstairs to find her Mum making eggs. ‘Hey, honey,’ her Mum said. ‘So which of my towels have you ruined this time?’

Ally smiled and held up a much-stained towel. ‘Same one I ruined the last four times.’ She tossed the poor towel (which bore the faded scars of four previous hair colours) into the washing machine and grabbed some toast.

Ally’s Mum was a police officer. Her Dad, who lived in the next town, managed a florist shop. Most people assumed she’d got that the wrong way round when Ally told them. ‘That’s because you’ve got the man’s sexist gender roles seared into your simplistic prole mind!’ Ally would yell at them. She did enjoy yelling at idiots; it was more or less her favourite pastime.

‘Here you go.’ Ally’s Mum slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her, which Ally doused liberally with brown sauce.

‘So,’ Ally began through a mouthful of food, ‘any news on the crime
of the decade, Mummy dear? Enquiring minds want to know.’

‘First of all, how many times do I have to ask you not to speak with your mouth full?’

‘At least another couple of hundred times,’ Ally sprayed.

‘And second, you know I shouldn’t, can’t, and, most importantly, don’t want to talk about that sort of thing with you.’

‘Aw. Still no clear perp to finger, hey?’

‘Not a one,’ Mum replied, dropping the frying pan into a sink full of lukewarm water and heading out to work. ‘Wash those for me, would you?’ she called back over her shoulder.

‘Yes, mein Fuhrer!’ Ally yelled, throwing in a salute for good measure even though her Mum was already out of sight. Mr Pooch, Ally’s elderly Boxer, used his snout to nudge open the door separating the kitchen from the front room, and waddled over.

‘Hey there, little dude, want some eggies?’

Mr Pooch sat expectantly at her feet. Ally shovelled a few more spoonfuls of egg into her mouth, took the remaining piece of toast, then placed the plate at her feet. Mr Pooch eagerly chowed down on what was left of the scrambled eggs.

Ally grabbed the morning paper and started flipping pages, looking for any sign of Mark’s case. It was weird to think that someone she knew, no matter how slightly, had gone missing. Been murdered, probably. Though everyone seemed to have a different idea on what had actually happened. Some said that Mark’s body had ever been found. Others that it had been found several time; little pieces of him scattered in every room. Gross.

Ally stopped on page eight, a small article in the bottom left corner. A picture of Mark at the top, obviously taken several years back. The young boy who smiled out at her bore only a passing resemblance to the violent little snot she was aware of.

Ally was several years older than Mark had been, so she knew little of him other than by sight and reputation. The only time she’d spoken to him was when she was yelling at him as her boot connected with his ribs and sent him packing. How weird that only days later he’d be on the receiving end of a much worse, and very final, violent episode. His ribs were probably still bruised from her boot.

‘Police say they are following several promising leads, but are still appealing for anyone who thinks they may have seen or heard anything.’

An empty piece. Nothing new, just filling up some blank space on the page. No doubt it would drop out of the press altogether if there was nothing new to toss on the fire soon.

Mr Pooch barked once, softly, to indicate he was all finished with the eggs. ‘Well done, Mr Pooch, you hungry little swine.’ Ally ruffled his head, then retrieved the plate, now slobbered clean, from the kitchen floor.

All
y
slouched in a chair watching some old horror film on the telly, sipping one of Sam's Dad's cans of beer. Sam was sat cross-legged on the rug. A man with a mask was sticking a large knife into screaming teenagers.

'This is the best bit, this bit right here,' said a gleeful Ally, as the masked man picked up a chainsaw and stuck it through two teenagers at the same time. 'Ha! Yeah, kill those idiots!' Blood splattered the back wall, the giant masked killer finally pulling the chainsaw free of their flailing bodies, followed by a waterfall of blood and uncoiling intestines.

‘Now, if you wake up screaming tonight, do
not
tell your parents I let you watch this. A grass has a terrible time of it in prison you know.’ She winked at Sam, who smiled and nodded back happily.

A few more dead teenagers and half a can of cheap lager later, Ally got around to Mark: ‘So, still no news about that dead bully, hey?’

‘No. I don’t think so. People aren’t talking about him so much at school either.’

‘It’s fallen down the chart from what’s hot to what’s not. Damn this MTV generation and their short attention span … ooh, hello, can number three.’ Ally crumpled her empty can into the bin and grabbed the next, which was sat on the floor beside her. She cracked it open, froth bulging out and over her hand. Ally laughed and quickly covered the drinking hole with her mouth, sucking up the escaping foam.

‘We even played a trick on him!’ said Sam suddenly, grinning widely.

‘Oh yeah? On Mark?’

Sam paused. To Ally, it seemed as though he was debating with himself whether or not to go on. He snapped to a decision and nodded eagerly.

‘Right on. You and whom? Who’s the ‘we’?’

‘My best friend. We got him good. He ran off like he was going to wet himself.’

‘Nice one. Colour me impressed, boyo. So which best friend is this? I thought
I
was your best friend. Way to break it to a girl gently, ya jerk.’ Ally poked her tongue out at him, making him giggle. ‘Well? Who is he? Or is it a she…? Does my Sammy boy have himself a lady friend? Ooh la la….’

She watched the boy turn red and squirm. ‘No! No, it’s a boy, not a girl.’

‘Well, okay, so I’m still in with a shot; now I don’t have to kill myself.’ Ally inhaled, then unleashed a deep, long belch, finishing it off with a little bow. ‘I’m quite the catch, you know.’

Sam laughed as he stood up. 'I need the toilet.'

'And then off to bed. Just 'cos I’m obsessed with you, it doesn't mean you stay up past eleven, all right?'

'Okay.' Sam headed out, leaving Ally alone in the room.

'Oh, gross!' Ally cackled as an axe took the top of some poor blonde girl’s head clear off in a Technicolor splurge of blood and gore. 'You fool around, you get killed, you know the rules.'

Ally turned to put her can down and started slightly as she saw she wasn't alone any longer.

'What are you doing sneaking back in? Off to bed with you, Sammy boy.'

He said nothing.

'What's this? The mean and moody type, hey? Fully Marlon Brando? You really know how to turn a gals head, mister….' Ally fluttered her eyelashes then broke down in semi-drunken giggles.

He said nothing.

‘Go on, then, stop pissing around. Off to bed with you now, or me and you? We’re over.’ Ally stuck her tongue out.

He still said nothing, didn’t blink even.

'Hey, all right, come on, break character,' said Ally.

He remained silent and still.

Ally shifted slightly, feeling strangely uncomfortable under the unblinking gaze.

'All right, enough, get to bed now.'

He took a single step towards her. Ally shrank back despite herself.

'Didn't you hear me?
Now
. Go on!'

He took another step forward.

Ally stood and staggered back a pace or two from the couch, turning slightly as a shrill scream blasted from the TV set behind her. Ally wanted to stride forward and whack the little idiot across the top of the head for making her feel so stupid and worried.

'One more step and I will smack you so hard you'll be peeing blood for a month.' Why did she feel so scared all of a sudden? It was just Sam. Sammy boy. Her little pal. He only came up to her chest and his arms were like pipe-cleaners.

But those eyes.

She'd never seen his eyes like that. There was something new in them. Something … strange. 'Well?' She said, shuffling forward slightly.

He stepped forward, smiling now. The smile made a shiver race up Ally’s spine.

‘Stop it. Stop smiling.’

He stepped forward once again, that awful smile still on his face, and crouched down out of sight behind the couch that barred the path towards her.

'Stand up.’

He remained out of sight behind the couch.

‘Oi! Did you hear me? Sam. Come on, Sam, enough already.’

No movement, no sound.

‘Sam, stand up, you little—' Ally stood on tip-toes to try and spot him crouched in a ball, but she was too far away. She took a step forward and tried again. Then another step. Finally she reached the couch itself and peered warily over the beck.

There was no one there.

A
week passed before Ally found herself approaching Sam’s house once again.

She stopped a little way from the front gate and pulled the earphones from her ears. The strange event from last week still played on her mind. The strange, disquieting atmosphere that had surrounded Sam as he’d stepped back into the room. Several times since, as she tried to sleep at night, his eyes had seeped into her mind. She had never seen his eyes like that. Never seen anyone’s eyes like that.

She’d actually considered turning down the chance to babysit this week, but then the idea of pockets empty of money scared her much more than that weird incident. ‘Pull it together, dummy.’ Ally flicked a cigarette into the road and headed for the front door. It was just one weird moment. Sam was her little pal. Cute little Sammy boy. She’d known him forever. It was probably just because she’d had those beers, that was all. The booze and the scary movie, joining forces to give her the creeps.

‘Ally! Come on in, love.’ Sam’s Mum was dressed up, makeup at least an inch thick, enough toxic perfume to stun a charging elephant.

‘You’ll have to tell me the name of that perfume,’ said Ally.

‘Oh! You like it? The man at the shop did say it was very “in” right now!’ said Sam’s Mum.

‘Oh, it’s definitely “in”,’ replied Ally, resisting the urge to follow up with,
Hopefully ‘in’ a bin soon. A bin that then gets set on fire and pushed down a well.

‘Hello, hello, I thought I heard voices….’ Sam’s Dad made his way down the stairs. Ally did her best not to visibly cringe as his eyes roamed over her, settling at last on her chest.

‘Hey, how’s it going,’ she replied.

‘Help yourself to a wee drinkie whilst we’re out, if you like. You know the deal. No need to stand on ceremony,’ he said, winking. Ally did her best not to visibly retch.

‘Yeah, thanks.’

‘Ally likes my perfume. Sidn’t I tell you it was very hip right now?’ said Sam’s Mum, delighted. ‘The boys are through in the front room, pet.’

‘The boys?’ asked Ally. Sam had a friend over? ‘Hey, you know it’s extra if I’m having to look after two of them, right?’

Sam’s parents looked at her quizzically. ‘Extra?’ replied Sam’s Dad.

‘Yeah. Two of them. As opposed to one.’

Sam’s Mum furrowed her brow. ‘It’s the same as always; we go out, so you come over and look after Sam and the other one.’

‘What other one?’

Sam’s parents looked at each other, then looked at Ally.

‘Well, the other one. The boy. His friend,’ said Sam’s Mum.

‘His
best
friend,’ said Sam’s Dad.

‘That’s him! Go on through, they’re in the front room watching telly. We’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.’

Sam’s parents went through into the kitchen, leaving Ally behind and baffled. What were they trying to pull here? More work for the same money? This wasn’t going to play, not on Ally’s watch.

Bristling, she pushed open the door to the front room and stepped inside.

Sam was sat on the floor like usual, cross-legged in front of the telly. Sat next to him was a second boy. A second boy who looked exactly like Sam.

‘Sammy boy…?’

Sam turned, and smiled. ‘Hi Ally! Shall we watch another scary film tonight? I told him all about it. He likes scary films, so don’t worry.’

The other boy didn’t react to her entrance or their conversation; he kept his eyes on the TV.

‘Well, then!’

Ally jumped at the voice behind her.

‘Woah, steady, love, it’s just us!’ said Sam’s Dad, laughing.

‘Right then, we’ll be back in three hours or so. Shouldn’t be a late one.’

‘Sorry, is this some sort of weird prank, or what?’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Who is that?’ said Ally.

‘Who is who?’ replied Sam’s Mum.

‘The little mirror image down there!’ said Ally, jabbing a finger in the boys’ direction. ‘Who is that sat next to Sam?’

Sam’s parents looked past her and at the two boys, confused, ‘That’s Sam—’ Sam’s Mum began.

‘—And that’s the other one,’ finished Sam’s Dad.

‘Other one? What “other one”!’

‘Well, that other one, down there,’ said Sam’s Mum.

Ally felt like tearing her hair out. ‘Why does he look like Sam? This is all getting a bit beyond, okay?’

Sam’s Dad turned to Sam’s Mum and not-so-surreptitiously mimed smoking something other than straight tobacco.

‘Hey, King perv, I am not high, okay? Who the hell is that little weirdo and why does he look like Sam?!’

‘Right, I’ve had enough of this; you can get out,’ said Sam’s Mum.

‘Fine! I’m out of here. This place is turning into a little bit too much of a freak show!’

Ally stormed out of the room, casting a last glance back at Sam and the boy. Sam was watching her leave, his face worried and confused; the other boy was still calmly sat on the floor. Legs crossed. Eyes on the TV.

As Ally flung the front door open and almost jumped out of the house, Sam’s Mum poked her head out of the door. ‘And don’t think we’ll be using you again, you druggie weirdo!’

‘Suits me! And, by the way, your perfume smells like bog water!’

Sam’s Mum slammed the door shut as Ally offered her some rather unladylike hand gestures.

Ally, hands shaking, pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit it. That was all too strange. Who was that other boy that looked just like Sam, and why on Earth did Sam’s parents act like this was nothing new?

That was when she realised just whom it was that had stepped back into the room the previous week.

Just whose eyes had haunted her ever since.