Kenneth said: ‘There’s something creepy about this place.’
The rest of the audience seemed to be finding it funny, but by now I was thoroughly scared. I had never been taken to see anything like this before: although it wasn’t strictly a horror film, the detail was very convincing, and the gloomy atmosphere, dramatic music and perpetual sense that something terrible was about to happen all combined to torment me with a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. Part of me wanted nothing more than to run out of the cinema into what was left of the daylight; but another part of me was determined to stay until I found out where it was all leading.
Kenneth and Sidney crept into the hallway of Blackshaw Towers, and found that the house was just as eerie as it had looked from the outside. They were met by a gaunt and forbidding butler called Fisk, who led them upstairs and showed them to their rooms. Much to his dismay, Kenneth found himself not only being taken to the East Wing, far away from his friend, but being required to sleep in the very room where his late uncle had died. Soft, unsettling organ music could be heard in the corridor. They went downstairs again and were introduced to the other members of Kenneth’s family: his cousins Guy, Janet and Malcolm, his Uncle Edward, and his mad Aunt Emily, for whom time seemed to have stood still ever since the First World War. Just before the solicitor began reading the will, another woman appeared: a young, blonde and beautiful woman played by the actress Shirley Eaton. She was there because she had nursed Kenneth’s uncle during his final illness. There weren’t enough chairs for everybody to sit around the table, so Kenneth had to balance on Shirley’s knee. He seemed quite pleased about this.
The will was read and it transpired that none of the relatives had been left anything at alclass="underline" they had been made the victims of a practical joke. They argued with each other bitterly as they began getting ready for bed. Then, suddenly, all the lights in the house went off. By now there was a terrible storm raging outside and Fisk suggested that the generator must have broken down. Kenneth and Sidney volunteered to go with him and investigate. When they reached the shed which housed the generator they found that the machinery had been smashed to pieces. They started going back towards the house, but were amazed to find Uncle Edward sitting on a deck-chair in the middle of the lawn, drenched by the pouring rain.
Sidney said: ‘What’s he sitting out there for?’
Kenneth laughed and said: ‘It’s unbelievable. He’ll catch his death of – death of–’
He gave a violent sneeze, and Uncle Edward fell stiffly off the deck-chair. He was dead.
Kenneth said: ‘Sid … is he?’
Sidney said: ‘Well if he ain’t, he’s a very heavy sleeper.’
There was a terrific thunderclap, and my mother leaned across to my father. She whispered: ‘Ted, come on, let’s go.’
My father was laughing. He said: ‘What for?’
My mother said: ‘It’s not suitable.’
Kenneth said: ‘Well I mean, we can’t leave him round here, can we? Look, let’s put him in the potting shed – it’s over there somewhere.’
There was more audience laughter as Kenneth, Sid and the butler attempted to pick up Uncle Edward’s corpulent body.
Sidney said: ‘Look, it’d be easier to bring the potting shed over to him.’
Even Grandma laughed at that. But my mother just looked at her watch again and my father, perhaps imagining that I might be frightened, ruffled my hair and laid his arm close by, so that I could take hold of it and lean against him.
Kenneth and Sid went back inside and told the rest of the family that Uncle Edward had been killed. Sid tried to telephone the police, only to discover that the line had been cut off. Kenneth said that he was going home, but the solicitor pointed out that the moors were impassable in this weather, and that if he were to leave now, he would be the first to come under suspicion for Edward’s murder. He recommended that everyone should go to bed at once and lock their doors.
Fisk said: ‘It’s only the start of it. There’ll be another one yet, mark my words.’
Sidney said: ‘Good-night, laughing boy.’
Kenneth and Sidney went back upstairs, but then, left to his own devices, Kenneth found it easy to get lost in the rambling old house. He opened the door to what he thought was his bedroom and discovered that it was already occupied by Shirley, wearing only her slip and about to put on a nightgown.
Kenneth said: ‘I say, what are you doing in my room?’
Shirley said: ‘This isn’t your room. I mean, that isn’t your luggage, is it?’
She clutched the nightgown modestly to her bosom.
Kenneth said: ‘Oh, blimey. No. Wait a minute, that’s not my bed, either. I must have got lost. I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll push off.’
He started to leave, but paused after only a few steps. He turned and saw that Shirley was still holding on to her nightgown, unsure of his intentions.
My mother stirred uneasily in her chair.
Kenneth said: ‘Miss, you don’t happen to know where my bedroom is, do you?’
Shirley shook her head sadly and said: ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t.’
Kenneth said: ‘Oh,’ and paused. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go now.’
Shirley hesitated, a resolve forming within her: ‘No. Hang on.’ She gestured with her hand, urgently. ‘Turn your back a minute.’
Kenneth turned, and found himself staring into a mirror in which he could see his own reflection, and beyond that, Shirley’s. Her back was to him, and she was wriggling out of her slip, pulling it over her head.
He said: ‘J— just a minute, miss.’
My mother tried to get my father’s attention.
Kenneth hastily lowered the mirror, which was on a hinge.
Shirley turned to him and said: ‘You’re sweet.’ She finished pulling her slip over her head, and started to unfasten her bra.
My mother said: ‘Come on. We’re going. It’s far too late already.’
But Grandpa and my father were both staring goggle-eyed at the screen as the beautiful Shirley Eaton took her bra off with her back to the camera, while Kenneth heroically tried to stop himself from peeping into the mirror which would have yielded a precious glimpse of her body. I was staring at her too, I suppose, and thinking that I had never seen anyone so lovely, and from that moment it was no longer Kenneth she spoke to but me, my own nine-year-old self, because I was now the person who had lost his way in the corridor, and, yes, it was me that I saw on the screen, sharing a room with the most beautiful woman in the world, trapped in that old dark house in that terrible storm in that shabby little cinema in my bedroom that night and in my dreams forever afterwards. It was me.
Shirley emerged from behind my head, her body swathed in the knee-length gown, and said: ‘You can turn round now.’
My mother stood up, and the woman behind her said: ‘For Heaven’s sake sit down, can’t you.’
On the screen, I turned and looked at her. I said: ‘Cor. Very provoking.’
Shirley brushed back her hair, embarrassed.
My mother grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my seat. I let out a little howl of protest.
The woman behind us said: ‘Sssh!’
Grandpa said: ‘What are you doing?’
My mother said: ‘We’re leaving is what we’re doing. And you’re coming too, unless you want to walk all the way back to Birmingham.’
‘But the film hasn’t finished yet.’
Shirley and I were sitting on the double bed together. She said: ‘I’ve a proposal to make.’
Grandma said: ‘Come on then, if we’re going. We’ve got to stop somewhere for dinner, I suppose.’
On the screen, I said: ‘Oh?’
Off the screen, I said: ‘Mum, I want to stay and see the end.’
‘Well you can’t.’
My father said: ‘Oh well. Looks like we’ve been given our marching orders.’
Grandpa said: ‘I’m staying put. I’m enjoying this.’
The woman behind us said: ‘Look, I’m going to call the management in a minute.’
Shirley moved closer towards me. She said: ‘Why don’t you stay here tonight? I don’t fancy spending the night alone, and we’d be company for each other.’