Holes for Faces by Ramsey Campbell Read Free Book Online

when the head jerks up to confront me with its eyes and the holes into which they’ve sunk. I shut mine as I thrust myself away from the cabinet, emitting a noise I would never have expected to make other than in the worst dream.
    I’m quiet by the time the rescuers arrive to collect their children and me. It turns out that Geraldine was in a fitting room in Girlz. The twins forgot most of their differences so as to take charge, leading me out to a table where there seems to be an insistent smell of stale sponge cake. Nobody appears to have noticed anything wrong in the clothes shop except me. I’m given the front passenger seat in Bertie’s car, which makes me feel like an overgrown child or put in a place of shame. The twins used their phones to communicate about me, having heard my cries, and to summon their parents. I gather that I’m especially to blame for refusing the loan of a mobile that would have prevented my losing the children and succumbing to panic.
    I do my best to go along with this version of events. I apologise all the way home for being insufficiently advanced and hope the driver will decide this is enough. I help Paula make a salad, and eat up every slice of cold meat at dinner while I struggle to avoid thinking of another food. I let the children raid the cupboard under the stairs for games, although these keep us in the dining-room. Sitting with my back to the mirror doesn’t convince me we’re alone, and perhaps my efforts to behave normally are too evident. I’ve dropped the dice several times to check that nobody is lurking under the table when Paula suggests an early night for all.
    As I lie in bed, striving to fend off thoughts that feel capable of bringing their subject to me in the dark, I hear fragments of an argument. The twins are asleep or at any rate quiet. I’m wondering whether to intervene as diplomatically as possible when Paula’s husband says “It’s one thing your father being such an old woman—”
    “I’ve told you not to call him that.”
    “—but today breaks the deal. I won’t have him acting like that with my children.”
    There’s more, not least about how they aren’t just his, but the disagreements grow more muted, and I’m still hearing what he called me. It makes me feel alone, not only in the bed that’s twice the size I need but also in the room. Somehow I sleep, and look for the twins at the foot of the bed when I waken, but perhaps they’ve been advised to stay away. They’re so subdued at breakfast that I’m not entirely surprised when Paula says “Dad, we’re truly sorry but we have to go home. I’ll come and see you again soon, I promise.”
    I refrain from asking Bertie whether he’ll be returning in search of investments. Once all the suitcases have been wedged into the boot of the Jaguar I give the twins all the kisses they can stand, along with twenty pounds each that feels like buying affection, and deliver a token handshake to Paula’s husband before competing with her for the longest hug. As I wave the car downhill while the children’s faces dwindle in the rear window, I could imagine that the windmills on the bay are mimicking my gesture. I turn back to the house and am halted by the view into the dining-room.
    The family didn’t clear away their last game. It’s Snakes and Ladders, and I could imagine they left it for me to play with a companion. I slam the front door and hurry into the room. I’m not anxious to share the house with the reminder that the game brings. I stoop so fast to pick up the box from the floor that an ache tweaks my spine. As I straighten, it’s almost enough to distract me from the sight of my head bobbing up in the mirror.
    But it isn’t in the mirror, nor is it my head. It’s on the far side of the table, though it has left even more of its face elsewhere. It still has eyes, glinting deep in their holes. Perhaps it is indeed here for a game, and if I join in it may eventually tire of playing. I