The Puffin Book of Horror Stories

    'I love being with children,' she said.

    'You never showed much sign of it.' Mrs Berry plugged a cigarette into her plump face and waved a flame at it. 'You never got married, did you? Never had no children of your own, never hardly got away from this village where you was born.'

    'I was away at training college for three years, don't forget.'

    'Training college.' Mrs Berry clicked her tongue. 'That must've been a riot.'

    Phoebe, Phoebe, I had a baby.

    The rhyme sprang to Miss Jervis's mind and made her smile.

    I had a baby, and I don't mean maybe.

    She looked out of the window.

    Mrs Berry, who had been watching her from the corner of her eye, said, 'You can't tell me you girls didn't get up to some fun and games when you was away from home.'

    Miss Jervis raised her eyebrows. 'We were training to be teachers, Phoebe, so nothing very terrible happened.'

    Except, of course, I had a baby girl and couldn't come home for a while.

    'And anyway,' she smiled, 'even if there had been something I was ashamed of I wouldn't have let anyone know, would I?'

    'You're grinning like a cat that's had the cream,' said Mrs Berry.

    'Am I? I wonder why.'

    And you may well turn away with that disgusted expression on your face, fat Phoebe, because now there's no chance at all you'll ever find out anything.

    Using both hands, Miss Jervis smoothed her dress firmly across her thighs and spoke to herself very clearly.

    And wouldn't you just love to know that the daughter I had was adopted and grew up to have a daughter of her own? And that little girl was Rosemary - so I'm not her auntie; I'm her granny. I'm a granny, Phoebe, just like you.

    'Anyway,' she said mischievously, 'I don't suppose my sins will ever come home to roost now.'

    'Not that you ever had none.'

    'Not that I ever had any,' said Miss Jervis primly, but she could not help a shiver, because her sin very nearly had come home to roost. Not long since.

    But you don't know that, Phoebe. I had my baby adopted the day after she was born and I thought she was gone for ever.

    Miss Jervis closed her eyes.

    And then … after all those years… she found me!

    'It was a terrible moment' - the words came out before she could stop them.

    'What was?'

    'I mean it must be a terrible moment when your sins catch up with you.' She gave a little grimace.

    You'll never catch me out, Phoebe fatbum. Not now. Rosemary has gone, and now my dear daughter is also no longer with us.

    'Did you read about that awful plane crash?' she asked.

    'What about it?' Mrs Berry was annoyed at the sudden change of subject.

    'Well, I was just wondering about those poor people. Their sins caught up with them, didn't they?'

    My daughter, for one. She dumped that Rosemary on me, and threatened to give away my secret if I didn't take her, just so she could gad about with her boyfriend. Well, now she's gone, her and her boyfriend. Serve 'em both right.

    Miss Jervis had read the passenger list. 'It's so sad,' she said.

    'Not that you look it.'

    'Well, it's such a lovely day.'

    And I'm so lucky. Nobody left to ask questions about Rosemary; no more blackmail from Rosemary's mother.

    'I can't never fathom you out.' Mrs Berry, because her fat legs pressed into the seat in front, let ash dribble into her lap. 'You was headmistress, with your own little house by the river, everything you ever wanted - and then you had to go and saddle yourself with that kid Rosemary. At your time of life.'

    'It was because of a friend from the old days.'

    A friend! I mean my dear daughter - happily no longer with us.

    'And my little home was just perfect for the two of us.'

    'Well, kids are kids - I wonder you could stand having your place messed up.'

    'But it was no problem, Phoebe, no problem at all.'

    Until the stupid child began to whine for the mother who didn't want her.

    'Because she is such a sweet little girl,' said Miss Jervis.

    Was a little girl. And sweet at the end. She drifted away so softly under her pillow she could hardly have felt its touch.

    'So sweet,' sighed Miss Jervis.

    'Sweet as a sugar plum, no doubt, but it was never your way to burden yourself.'

    'You have a cruel tongue, Phoebe, but my deeds speak louder than words.'

    'Hark at little Miss.„ Prim. Never done a thing wrong in her whole life - I don't think.'

    It was said so knowingly that Miss Jervis felt a touch of anxiety. 'I don't understand you,' she said.

    'I know something you done, Jenny Jervis… something you was ashamed of.'

    Mrs Berry's eyes suddenly had such a hard glint that Miss Jervis looked away.

    But it couldn't be Rosemary. Everybody believed me when I said she'd gone home to her mother.

    'You was a naughty girl once.' Mrs Berry was sly, and waited to see the effect. 'That's made you go pale, ain't it?'

    'There's nothing on my conscience, Phoebe.'

    'Well, there should be.'

    Miss Jervis sat quite still.

    'You gone white just like you did then. First you went white, then you went red and then you started to cry and said it wasn't your fault. You'd have done anything to stop other people knowing what you done. And I was the one who could've shamed you, Jenny Jervis.'

    Miss Jervis made a tiny movement with her gloves.

    'I see you remember it now - that day when we was kids and you snitched some sweets from a girl's desk.' Her eyes were on Miss Jervis. 'And I seen you do it.'

    'Is that all?' Miss Jervis let out her breath.

    'All, you say. All'

    'I was only trying to put her books straight.' Miss Jervis was annoyed to find that her mouth had gone dry.

    'Then why did you snivel and grovel and promise me anything so long as I wouldn't tell? Books my foot!'

    'But…'

    'No buts. You're still making excuses. You never did give a thought to that poor girl you was thieving from - all you cared about was that you shouldn't be shamed. That's what you was afraid of- shame.'

    Miss Jervis took a handkerchief from her glove. 'I think you're trying to spoil my little outing, Phoebe.'

    'And now it's tears. Just as it always was. You haven't changed one little bit.'

    Miss Jervis blew her nose. 'I'm relieved that I haven't any worse skeletons in my cupboard,' she said. 'Perhaps I'm lucky.'

    And she was. She won at bingo. She could do nothing wrong, and knew it in her bones. So when the old woman sitting next to her was careless with her purse, Miss Jervis dipped her fingers into it and came out with a note.