Caught On Camera (Chapter Five)

Chapter Five

Diane Honeydew 

   “Ah, I see you’ve noticed my prize possession,” Mr Cribbins was saying. “It’s an original photograph by Diane Honeydew. Have you heard of her?”

   Billy didn’t reply. He felt he couldn’t breathe, as if something was squeezing the breath right out of him. The mysterious, ghostlike girl in the photograph was still staring at him with her pale grey eyes. There was a hounded expression on her face.

   “Help us,” she whispered. “Please help us.”

   Clutching her doll against her chest, she glided out of sight and the picture became motionless again. The sound of waves crashing against the shore faded to an ominous silence. 

   Curiously, it looked as if Mr Cribbins hadn’t noticed a thing. He was still chattering about Diane Honeydew. “She’s made quite a fortune for herself,” the old man was saying. “She told me that she once won a prestigious photography award and makes a living doing fashion shoots. Amazing woman. She’s older than me, but doesn’t look a day over 30. She lives in the big house at the end of the street.”    

   “Yes, yes, I’ve heard of her,” Billy mumbled, still staring in disbelief at the picture.

   “No doubt you’ll be seeing her on your travels,” Mr Cribbins said, crouching over the coffee table and reaching for a box of tissues. “Which reminds me, I wonder if you could do me a small favour?” he asked. “I’m supposed to be fixing Miss Honeydew’s water tank later today, but as you can see… “ He coughed loudly and blew his nose on a tissue, “I’m suffering from a very nasty head cold and I don’t want to spread my germs. I’d tell her myself, but unfortunately my mobile’s out of credit.”

   “Yes, of course I will,” Billy replied. He was trying to gather his senses and was only half listening. “And if you see Monty, our missing dog, don’t forget to let us know.”

   “Will do,” Mr Cribbins replied and then frowned and wagged a finger at Billy warningly. “And remember to take lots of care, young man. If two children have already vanished without a trace, it’s only a matter of time before the third child is snatched, and I hope it isn’t you.” 

   “I hope so too,” Billy replied, and headed for the door, taking one last look at the photograph before leaving the house.

   For several minutes he stood on the pavement outside, shivering inside his coat. Images of the strange girl in the picture seemed to be flickering in front of his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Had he imagined her or was she real? And who was she? Was she one of the missing children? And what about Monty, his lost dog? Had he been taken too?  

   Feeling uneasy, Billy looked up and down the street. It was a cul-de-sac and Diane Honeydew’s house was at the very end. It was a large, expensive-looking house with an elegant garden in front. A curved gravel drive and a small flight of stone steps led up to the big front door. As he stared at the house, Billy had the strangest feeling he was being watched again, as if an audience had assembled behind the mullioned windows and was observing his every move. 

   He clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting down the urge to panic, and then quickly made a decision.

   Clutching a leaflet in his hand, he walked purposely along the street, up the gravelled drive, and then climbed the stone steps and stood in front of the house. After taking a long, deep breath, he immediately rang the doorbell. 

   As footsteps approached along the hallway inside, Billy quickly checked his mobile phone. He had a nasty feeling about the old lady who lived here, and he wanted to be sure it was still working. There was a text message from his mum: ‘URGENT! PLEASE COME HOME,’ it said. Billy decided to ignore it for now. She was probably having another one of her turns again, and his dad was there to help. There were comments from his friends on Facebook too, and his photographs of the lighthouse had received twenty-three ‘likes’. 

   Then the screen went blank and a woman suddenly appeared in front of him.

   Billy looked up and had to stop himself from falling over backwards.

   She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had ice-blue eyes, skin as pale as snow and her hair, which was platinum blond, flowed all the way down to her waist. Every strand seemed to shimmer like a thread of silvery light.

   “Hello, young man,” said Diane Honeydew. “How can I help you?”

   To be continued...