The If Game by Catherine Storr Read Free Book Online

private garden and that it must be nonsense that he could have a key that fitted. Now that the key no longer turned in the lock, he had no evidence to prove his story. Perhaps the house owner would call the police and then what would Dad say?
    He need not have worried. The front door did not open. Dad rang the bell again. A woman came out of the next door house, with a pushchair containing a large, solemn baby. She let it carefully down the front three steps, and when she was on the pavement, she said to Dad, ‘Did you want to speak to Mrs . . . ?’ Stephen didn’t catch the name. ‘I’m afraid she’s not there. There’s nobody there. The family left in the spring and the house has been on the market ever since.’
    Stephen heard his dad say, ‘Left last spring?’
    â€˜That’s right. The agents can’t sell it. They say the price is way too high. It’s the gardens. They’re very big for this part of the town. They’re wonderful for children.’ As she spoke, she looked down into the pushchair, as if she were reminded that this was what her garden was for. She smiled, and Stephen saw the baby’s fat serious face crinkle up into an answering, toothless grin. He looked away. He was disturbed. If he had been able to put his feelings into words, he would have asked a question. ‘Is that how babies feel about their mothers? Is that how mothers feel about their babies?’
    â€˜So there wouldn’t have been anyone here this afternoon?’ Dad asked.
    â€˜Not unless it was the agents showing someone round.’
    Dad said, ‘Thanks for telling me.’ Then he said, ‘Which garden belongs to which house here? That one over there, does it go with this house?’ He pointed to the brick wall with the door Stephen had gone through.
    â€˜That’s right. All the gardens this side of the square are on the right hand side of the houses they go with. This is ours,’ she said, nodding her head towards the wall behind her.
    Dad was saying, ‘Thanks’, and then, impatiently, to Stephen, ‘Come on. Let’s get back.’ He had already started walking away. Stephen followed him. He wondered how Dad was going to explain away this last piece of information.
    As they walked, Dad said, ‘Can’t have been that garden. You must have got the street wrong.’
    Stephen said nothing. He couldn’t explain what he thought had happened. There was no point in arguing. If Dad could be convinced that the whole thing had been a mistake, that was the best he could hope for. Nothing more was said between them until they were back inside their own front door.

8
    Stephen had known before they had reached home that his dad wasn’t going to leave things there. He was sure there had to be more questions and more demands for an explanation to come, and he wanted some of the explanations for himself. Dad was not to be the only person who asked questions. Dad began.
    â€˜I want to get this clear, Stephen. The people you say you saw in that garden—never mind where it is exactly— what did they say? What did they tell you?’
    â€˜I’ve said already, they didn’t tell me anything. They thought they knew me, that’s all.’
    â€˜They called you Deedie?’
    â€˜One of them did.’
    â€˜Did they say any other names?’
    â€˜The boy was called Chris. I told you that.’
    â€˜Nothing else?’
    â€˜One of them said something about Rose.’
    Stephen saw that this startled Dad. He sat up straight and his voice was different when he said, ‘Rose? You sure?’
    â€˜They thought I knew her,’ Stephen said.
    â€˜They didn’t talk about anyone else?’
    â€˜No. And I don’t think they believed me when I said I didn’t know anyone called Rose.’
    Dad took a long deep breath. Stephen thought he might be going to say something more, but he didn’t. He just