Martin looked away.
“If you’re scared, you needn’t watch it,” he said.
“Course I ain’t scared,” said Kevin. “I seen Sawmill and I weren’t scared of that.”
“This is different,” said Martin.
David looked out of the window again, but the other boy had gone.
Martin turned the key and opened the door. The house was full of darkness and the smell of chips and tobacco smoke. David felt the warmth on his cheeks. He’d never been to Martin’s house before, and he looked around curiously as Martin put the hall light on. There was a really smart carpet, and a mirror with all gold round it, and a TV phone. He felt reassured. It was so nice that you couldn’t imagine anything horrible happening there. Snuff Park might not be all that bad. And he could always close his eyes.
“You going to put it on then?” said Kevin. “Where’s the telly?”
“No hurry. I want something to eat first. Ain’t you hungry?”
“What you got to eat?”
“Dunno. Fish and chips’ll do. You better eat it now ’cause you won’t want to after, will he, Dave?”
“No,” said David. “Not after.”
“Here,” said Martin to David, handing him a ten-pound note. “Go round the chippy. Cod and chips three times, all right?”
“Ta, Martin,” said David, and added “Don’t start it without me.”
The chip shop was just around the corner. On his way back, with the soft hot bundles clutched to his chest, David suddenly stopped. The boy from the car was standing outside Martin’s front door.
“What do you want?” said David, before he could stop himself.
“You going to watch the video?” said the boy.
David could hardly hear what he said. He supposed the boy had got a cold, or asthma, like David’s sister.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Can I watch it?”
“I dunno. It ain’t mine, it’s my mate’s.”
The two boys stood still, not looking at each other.
“I’ll ask him,” said David finally, and rang the bell.
When Martin opened the door David said “I got ’em. Three cod and chips. And this kid was there outside the house. He says he wants to watch the video.”
Martin twisted his mouth. Kevin, behind him, said, “He’ll never take it. He’ll never take the pressure.”
“All right, let’s see if he does,” said Martin. “Let him in, then.”
The strange boy came in after David and stood in the living-room while they ate their fish and chips. David offered him some, but he just said, “No, I don’t want none.” After a minute or two he sat down. The others didn’t say anything, but ate quickly, and dropped their papers in the fireplace. David could smell the strange boy again. The room was hot, and he dropped his anorak on the thick red carpet, but the strange boy kept his on, and sat with his hands in his pockets, unmoving.
“All right then?” said Martin. “I’ll put it on.”
He fitted the cassette into the machine and sprawled back in a big leather armchair with the remote control. David and Kevin were sitting on the settee, and the other boy was on a dining chair by the table. Martin turned the TV on.
“Smart telly,” said Kevin.
It was a 48-inch. The big screen lifted itself out of the console and filled with colour.
“You seen a snuff picture before?” said Martin to the strange boy.
“Yeah. I seen this one.” They had to strain to hear him.
“This one?” It was plain that Martin didn’t believe him. “You know what happens?”
“Yeah. I seen it hundreds of times.”
“Hundreds? Get lost.”
“Here,” said Kevin. “Let’s watch it with the light out.”
“Stay there,” said Martin. “Watch this.”
He pressed a button on the remote control, and the big centre light above them faded into darkness. Now the only light came from the screen.
“Smart!” said Kevin.
They found themselves watching a suburban street from the windscreen of a moving car. It was a sunny day. There were lots of trees covered in leaves, and the houses looked nice and big, with lots of space between them.
Then the commentary began.
“Just an ordinary road in an ordinary English town,” said a man’s voice. It was a strong deep voice, warm and concerned. “An ordinary summer’s day. But for one woman nothing will be the same again. There will never be another summer’s day for her.”
David looked at the strange boy. His eyes were wide and fixed intently on the screen, and his lips were moving unconsciously with the words. David felt queer. He knew now very strongly that he didn’t want to watch the film at all. He let his eyes go back to the screen, but tried to make them out of focus so that he couldn’t see clearly.
A few minutes passed. There was no more commentary from the film, but suddenly the strange boy said something.
“What?” said Martin.
“I says it’s a nice house, ain’t it?” said the boy.
Kevin, frowning concentratedly, took no notice. Martin grunted, but David looked at the boy again. Anything to get his eyes off the screen; but nothing had happened yet.
“Must be nice living there,” said the boy, still staring. But his expression was strange; David couldn’t understand it.
“Yeah,” he said to the boy.
There was a woman on the screen. She was doing normal things, like washing up and ironing. She was talking to the camera about housework or something. David felt full of fear, almost ready to be sick, because it was all so ordinary, and you knew she was real, and you knew it had really happened, like this, and you knew you were going to see her murdered.
“This is boring,” said Kevin. “What’s she on about?”
“Shut up,” said Martin. “They got the camera in there to get her confidence.”
“But there ain’t nothing happening,” said Kevin. “She’s just bloody talking.”
“She’s pretty, ain’t she?” said the boy.
The other two fell silent, and turned to him for a moment. Even David sensed it was an odd thing to say.
“Eh?” said Martin.
“I says she’s pretty, ain’t she. She’s really nice.”
“What d’you mean?” said Kevin.
“She’s my mum,” said the boy.
There was another silence then. Everything had suddenly changed, and David felt it, but didn’t know how or why.
“Eh?” said Martin.
“I says she’s my mum. She loves me and I love her.”
The boys shifted in their seats. The pictures on the screen had changed. It was night-time, and the camera was outside the house looking in through the kitchen window. The room was warmly lit; the woman was moving about, alone, watering some big green plants. She bent down and picked up a little baby from what must have been a carry-cot, and cuddled it. But none of the three boys were taking this in: they were paralysed by what the strange boy had said. No-one said that sort of thing.
“He’s mad,” said Kevin uneasily.
“Hey, what’s your name?” said Martin.
There was no reply. Instead the commentary began again:
“Alone. There is no-one to help. Little does she know that an unseen hand has cut the phone wire. And now . . . the fear begins.”
The boy was mouthing the words as if he knew them by heart. Suddenly from the darkness a stone shattered the kitchen window, and the woman gasped and turned wildly, clutching the baby to her. Her wide-eyed face stared out at them, and then they all saw at once that she was his mother.
She was bending now, putting the baby down swiftly. And then another window shattered, and she jumped and cried out.
David’s heart was beating like a captured bird.