Rare Sight

Chapter Thirteen

They pulled up in front of Yousef’s house about twenty minutes later. Yousef’s dad was already waiting for them on the pavement.

“I’d better just go in – to warn Meena,” he said.

“Mr Khalil,” said Joe. “I think… look, I think you’d better not come up with us either.”

“But it’s my son they’re holding up there, Joseph.”

“I know, but… you won’t be able to communicate with them or anything.”

“You’ll just have to tell me what they’re saying, Joseph. I’m not waiting downstairs, wondering what’s happening, when my poor boy’s up there terrified.”

Joe’s gran nodded. “Of course. Right, everyone, we’ll wait here while Mr Khalil goes in.”

After a moment, Yousef’s dad reappeared at the front door, beckoning them in.

“Here goes,” murmured Joe, as he started up the path ahead of his mum and gran. His blood was pumping in his ears again and he wondered for a second how he’d got involved in all this. “Shouldn’t we wait for Georgia?” he asked his gran.

“Oh, she’ll turn up,” she said. “Don’t forget – we have the receptacle; she isn’t going to want to let that out of her sight for long.”

“They reached the hallway, where they met up with Yousef’s parents. I’ll wait down here, should I?” said Joe’s mum, and his gran nodded.

“Meena, what do you want to do?” asked Joe’s gran. “Are you going to stay down here with Sara?”

Meena shook her head. “No… I can speak to the spirits. I think I’d better come up with you.”

“Right, then.” She gestured to the Khalils to start up the stairs, and Joe followed, with his gran behind him. But stairs weren’t easy for her these days, and she stopped half-way up, at the turning-stair.

“Gran, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, lovie – you carry on up with the others and I’ll come after you as soon as I catch my breath.”

He left her reluctantly, but he needed to see Yousef, to check he was all right, so he followed Yousef’s parents to the top of the stairs, and then waited as they fetched a pole to pull down the loft ladder. It was a metal extending ladder, and it lurched horribly just as Mr Khalil set foot on it. There was a row of torches on top of a low cupboard on the landing, and Joe grabbed a couple and passed one up to Mrs Khalil as she followed her husband. Joe waited until they were both at the top before starting up himself. The ladder felt rickety and unsafe, especially as his legs were playing their trick again of going rubbery. He dragged himself through the hole at the top, and flashed his torch round, ready to face his opponent. The loft was empty. Yousef’s parents had vanished, and there was instead a huge space – far bigger than he would have expected given the size of the house below – with no sign of either Yousef or his captor. He spun round as something clattered behind him. It was the ladder, which now lay neatly folded up, with the hatch shut.

He tried to shout, “Gran! Mum!” but his voice, like his legs, let him down: it came out hoarse again, so that it barely sounded. There was a curious echo too, as if he was in an empty building. He tried again but, although he managed to project his voice a bit further, there was still no answer from below.

The sound of footsteps close by made him jump,

“Oh, come on, you don’t really think you’re in the same attic, do you?” said a familiar voice.

He shone his torch in the direction of the voice, and jumped again as he saw Gideon, sitting on an upturned packing case that hadn’t been there a moment before. “Dad! Are you OK?”