Stacey yawned deeply as she locked the door to Camp Road School behind her. After six weeks spent largely in her back garden, her body was rebelling against the shock of the new term. It was early September and still warm enough to be without a jacket. Yet Autumn was on her way, waking each day at 7am then planning lessons until 10pm told her so. Stacey walked the long school drive, the sound of her clicking heels making the seagulls, invading the school drive in search of dropped crisps and sweets, take flight. Stacey should have been alone, but sat on top of the school gate was a small boy, laughing and rocking on the top metal bar. He became stationery as she drew close.

'Sam…are you walking home alone again?'

'Yes Miss Brown..' He looked down. Sam Tate was a scruffy boy, with unkempt brown hair and dirty finger nails. He wore the same uniform as every other kid, purple jumper with black trousers. For Sam however, his jumper always seemed to be longer on one arm than the other and his trousers were permanently stained by something that looked like glue. Most of all, Sam had a very distinctive smell, it reminded Stacey of her mother's new black Labrador puppy. Stacey knew she shouldn't think such things, but she could always tell when Sam had been around in her classroom. 

'Where is your father today?' Asked Stacey.

'Resting, he's was working last night.' Sam began rocking back and forth slowly on the top steel bar of the gate, still looking downwards.

'He's works a lot, I'm not sure I've ever seen him.'

'Yeah…he says he has to put food on the table.'

After 7 years of teaching, Stacey Brown had learned to identify a sentence spoken by a child but quoted from an adult, it always sounded wrong. Children hung onto such things when searching for a way out of something they didn't quite understand.

'Shall we walk home together Sam? Your place is on the way to mine anyway.'

Sam shrugged his shoulders, jumped down from the gate and they set off together down the steep Camp Road Hill. They passed the council estate on the way back into town. It was one of three in this small town. Most of the families here were poor, Stacey didn't mind that. It had taken a few months to understand their often aggressive sense of humour, people here were far more honest and direct than in the city. Life here may be simple, lacking in bright lights and Saturday Guardian recommendations, but the people here were a real community. What they lacked in culture, they made up for in warmth and Stacey had grown to love it here. Sam was different. Stacey had monitored him since he came into her class this term. He was from a much wealthier home than most of the others. At first she thought this might have played a part in the other kids avoiding him. It soon became obvious that he simply liked to play alone, constantly talking to himself and preferring to stay inside during breaks and lunchtimes. The other kids would often try and sit beside him, he would never let them. In return they would mock his over-sized clothes and laugh at his random giggling during class. Sam did seem to enjoy learning, often his questions and answers showed insight way beyond his years. They had walked four streets in silence, Sam skipping occasionally and jumping any breaks in the pavement slabs.

'Do you like school Sam?' Stacey smiled.

'It's okay.' Sam stopped for a moment and then made an extra large leap to catch Stacey up.

'What about your classmates Sam?'

'Erm, they are okay too.' He never gave much away, happier inside his own thoughts than the real world outside of them. There was another moment of silence as Stacey thought about her next question.

'You don't seem to spend much time with them?' She asked.

'No.' Sam stopped and looked at her from three paving stones behind her.

'Why is that?' Stacey walked back towards him. He looked up at her for the first time, squinting in the bright September sun.

'Erm, it's John, he doesn't like them.' Sam held his hand to his eyes.

'John?'

'He nodded.

'You mean your brother?'

He nodded again, then began walking once more. Stacey watched him skip past her, she frowned a little and then pulled her books tighter into her chest, the sound of her clicking heels echoing loud as she made strides after him.

'Sam! Does John come to school with you?' Stacey drew alongside him once more, his eyes were focused on the paving stone edges three strides ahead. He jumped.

'Yeah. He likes to. He helped me with my geography test today.' Sam had scored 48 out of a possible 50. She had been surprised at his knowledge of capital cities. She thought hard.

'Sam, I thought he…., I thought he had gone away?' She said, walking forward to catch him up, she could feel her heart beating as she spoke. Sam stopped.

'He came back, he lives in the treehouse.' He jumped across two paving stones and turned to make sure he had landed past the second pave line. He pointed upwards. They were beside  Selby House. It had been in Sam's family for years and stretched up into the sky with all the magnificence of a late Georgian home. It had a large green front door, rounded bay windows and four floors set beside the old oak tree that dominated their garden. It was easily one of the most impressive properties in town. Stacey followed Sam's finger to the top of the tree and the red painted treehouse that hung across it two thickest branches. She looked back at Sam.

'Sam, I'm glad we had this chat, would you come and see me first thing tomorrow, there's someone I'd like you to meet?' Stacey forced a smile.

'Okay. John likes you, so he says I should.' Sam smiled back and then opened the garden gate.

'Good. See you tomorrow then.' Stacey watched Sam walk up the short path and enter his house. As he shut the door, Stacey looked her to the oak tree gently beginning to sway. It was slowly getting cloudy and dark, the dim light appearing in the treehouse had caught her eye.

Mrs Langstaff's long nose held her spectacles far enough away from her eyes for her to pear intently over them towards you. She scratched her chin often, rarely smiling and engaged in long bouts of silence during conversations. Today she wore a long brown skirt and a thin blue jumper covering a white blouse. She had a very straight back and often wore walking boots to school, today they were brown Caterpillar shoes, still slightly muddy from her walk over the weekend. Mrs Langstaff was a very straight forward, no-nonsense type of woman. She believed that there were always simple yet scientific explanations for everything, especially in her chosen field of child psychology. The boy brought to her by Miss Brown this morning had been very interesting but still her conclusions were, to her at least, obvious.

'This boy Miss Brown is, in a word, lonely. He has been ever since his brother died last year. He has a unique kind of imaginary friend Miss Brown. One that did actually once live.'' Mrs Langstaff stared out of the window as she spoke.

'Yes, I did notice that,' interrupted Stacey.

Mrs Langstaff stared at her until she looked away, then took a few, slow steps towards her bookshelf.

'And did you also notice that he dresses himself in his brother's clothes? Eats the same lunch that his brother used to?' She turned towards Stacey and continued. 'No? I thought not. He does these things Miss Brown because he believes they will make it easier for John to appear to him.' Mrs Langstaff began moving a book's position on her bookshelf.

Stacey lifted her hands to her mouth. 'Oh My God!' Mrs Langstaff turned and smiled, she loved that look. She slowly walked back to her desk, placing both hands flat on it, holding her arms straight and looking down at Stacey across the desk. A short silence ensued, in which Stacey couldn't help but notice the rather masculine Juniper scent Mrs Langstaff chose to wear.

'You say the boy is very bright?' She asked.

'Yes.' Replied Stacey suddenly waking from the previous silence.

'Have you ever considered he may even be speaking to you as his brother on occasion?' Mrs Langstaff held Stacey's stare until she looked away.

'You think?' Stacey frowned. Mrs Langstaff began walking towards her window again, Stacey breathed out.

'I don't think Miss Brown, I know. This boy has real issues, but they all stem down to one route cause…neglect. I've heard his father is rarely seen by anyone thesedays, doesn't even attend PTA you say? Well, it sounds to me like they are both feeling the effects of the older brother's passing away.'

'What do we do?' Asked Stacey tapping her legs. Mrs Langstaff walked back towards her shelf, taking a book and opening it towards the middle. She read silently to herself for a few moments and then walked towards Stacey.

'We must concern ourselves with the boy, that is our responsibility. He's being neglected Miss Brown and we must act. I've already informed social services, they will be here tomorrow. In the meantime, this will all be far easier should the boy not go home tonight.' Mrs Langstaff stared into Stacey's eyes and held them for a few moments. She then closed her book with a loud clap. Stacey jumped.

'Why do I have to stay here tonight Miss?'

Sam dragged his brown bag behind him as he followed Stacey and Mrs Langstaff into the old, sea front Vicarage Home for Boys. Stacey stopped.

'Would you give us a minute?' She asked, Mrs Langstaff nodded and continued through the large blue front door into the home. Stacey stooped down to Sam's height.

'It's just for one night Sam.' She smiled, rubbing his right shoulder with her hand. Sam raised his eyes from the concrete road.

'Does Dad know?' He frowned.

'We've been trying to get hold of him all day Sam. We can't do anymore tonight.' Stacey spoke slow and soft. Sam thought for a moment.

'He won't be happy, he doesn't like being disturbed in the day.' He replied.

'It'll all be ok Sam I promise, it's just for one night. We can all sit down with your dad in the morning and talk about it. Come on Sam, let's go and see the house. Mrs Langstaff says they've got you fish and chips for tea.'

Sam sighed and then nodded.

Through the large blue door they found themselves in an equally large reception area. A large banister rolled down a gleaming polished wooden staircase and curled towards the front door. The floor was decorated with little diamond shaped coloured tiles and along the far wall hung a range of neatly arranged jackets, one per coatpeg. Despite it's cleanliness the whole place seemed to smell of unwashed socks. Stacey felt Sam reach for her hand and hold it tightly. She smiled at him and winked, as she turned away she breathed out and frowned. The door beside them to the right opened.

'Ahh, do come in and meet Mr Givens.' Mrs Langstaff was holding a glass of red wine in her right hand as she ushered their way. They entered the room. It had elegant red walls and a large black fireplace. Stood in front of it was a tall, thin man wearing a grey suit and John Lennon style glasses. He was clean shaven, just like the house but as he stepped towards her Stacey couldn't help but notice the aroma of unwashed socks get stronger.

'Good evening, I'm Steven Givens, pleasure to meet you.' Stacey took his extended hand, his handshake was strong and long.

'Nice to meet you...this is Sam.' Replied Stacey holding her arm around Sam's shoulders.

'Hello there.' Said Mr Givens, he didn't shake Sam's hand. Sam remained stationery.

'You've done well Stacey, Mr Givens can take it from here, bet your dying to get home?' Said Mrs Langstaff, as she sipped from her wine glass. Her cheeks were beginning to flush a little.

'I don't mind staying a bit longer if it helps?' Stacey could feel Sam still holding her hand tightly.

'Best not, it's not the done thing.' Replied Mr Givens, looking at Mrs Langstaff. She nodded in Stacey's direction.

'Well, if you're quite sure.' Both Mr Givens and Mrs Langstaff nodded once more. Stacey began to release Sam's hand, she turned towards him and lowered herself down to his height. His eyes were wide and his mouth tight shut.

'Sam, I'll see you first thing tomorrow at school, we'll meet in Mrs Langstaff's office. Remember it's just for tonight, we can sort everything out tomorrow.' Stacey forced a smile. Inside a deep feeling of guilt was already starting to grow within her.

'I'll show you out,' smiled Mrs Langstaff.

'Would you help me get this fine young man settled in Clarisse, perhaps afterwards we could have another?' Mr Givens gently rocked his empty wine glass up in the air towards Mrs Langstaff. She smiled, her cheeks flushed a little more and hey both laughed. They didn't hear Sam whisper.

'Please Miss, I don't want to stay here.' Stacey kept her eyes on Mrs Langstaff, pretending she didn't hear him either. She was a teacher, she couldn't turn around, she couldn't take him home. Instead she let Mrs Langstaff's hand placed on her back usher her out of the building, out into the cold, evening sea breeze. 

Stacey poured herself a glass of red wine. What a day.

Throughout all of Sam's questions that evening, she had to constantly remind herself that they were doing the right thing, for Sam at least. Any child would have been confused by today's events, but at least now he seemed to have settled into the Vicarage for tonight at least. It was late, Stacey sipped her wine and enjoyed the quiet, midnight creaking of the cottage. She allowed her feet to find their way up onto the settee and then her eyes to shut. She froze and quickly opened them. Stacey walked slowly up the stairs and listened intently outside of her bedroom. She could hear voices.

Stacey placed her hand on the doorknob. She could hear laughing now. She turned the handle slowly and then spun it quickly to open the door. with purpose. A gust of cold air chilled her face. Across the room, the bedroom window slammed shut violently with a loud bang echoing in her ears. Stacey screamed and fell back to the floor, hitting her head on the wall. Rubbing her temple, she stood up and swiftly made her way over to the window. There was no sign of anyone anywhere outside. Her breathing was deep and rapid. Stacey placed her hand to her chest, shut her eyes and did her best to slow her frantic heart and lungs. Stacey concentrated, trying to calm the speed and sound of her hyper ventilations. She held her breath, just like she used to as a young girl hiding under her bed covers from the imaginary monsters beneath her. Somehow, she could still hear her breathing. She let out her breath again with a cry out. Stacey knew she was not alone. There was someone else breathing heavily in the room too. She turned quickly, raising her hand into the air clenched to a fist.

'Miss, it was John.' A voice cried out with a high pitched agitation. Stacey's hand found the wall and then switched on the light.

'Sam! What are you doing here? How did you get in here?' 

'It was John Miss, he didn't like it there, he made us leave.' He hit his hands against his legs as he spoke, his eyes wide with agitation.

'And he brought you here?'

'No…, he wanted to go and play in the treehouse.'

'You can't do that. You know that don't you Sam?' Stacey realised her fist was still held aloft. She let it fall down and open out into a hand to hold for Sam. He took it and held tightly, she could feel the sweat from his young fingers.

'Sam, I've got to ring the home, they'll be worried sick.'

'Okay. May I have a drink?'

Stacey nodded, she needed one herself.

Downstairs Stacey took a long gulp of wine, straight out of the bottle, as she poured Sam a glass with Tesco Value lemonade. She walked back upstairs, happy to hear no more voices. Stepping inside a cold draft kissed her face. The window was open and Sam was gone.

'The treehouse, the treehouse, the bloody treehouse.' muttered Stacey as she fumbled her key into ignition. Her car sped away and raced right through the centre of town. She screeched to a halt in front of the red light and tapped her steering wheel quickly, whilst muttering, until the amber light finally came. Stacey wheelspun slightly on the bend into Selby Terrace, before pulling up alongside Selby House. She stared up to the large oak tree, there was a dim light, shimmering in the dark.

Stacey opened the gate and ran through to the back of the house.

'Sam! Are you there?' she called from beneath the tree.

There was no Answer. Stacey looked around her, as her eyes gradually adapted to the dark. Her outstretched hands felt her way to the bottom of the solid oak tree trunk. Stacey felt her sting with cold as her shoes struggled with the wet, muddy grass around her. Infront, she squinted and gradually made out the shape of the rope ladder. She placed one hand on a rung at head height and stepped up, focusing her eyes on the dim light above. Her low heeled and now wet shoes struggled with the rope ladder rungs. She could hear her breathing quickening again, but Stacey kept her eyes on the light above, drawing slowly closer. She stopped, something had scuttled loudly across the treehouse floor.

'Sam! It's Miss Brown! Please tell me your okay?'

No answer.. Something moved above her again. Stacey pulled hard with her arms on the last few rope steps. Her hand moved inside the treehouse and she pulled her head and shoulders in too. It seemed much bigger than it looked from the ground. Two candles were burning on either side of the entrance hole, they lit the middle well but the corners of the treehouse were dark. She could see comics, sweets, crisps, a PS II, all evidence of a young boy. In the far right hand corner, Stacey caught the lights of two hiding eyes.

'Sam is that you?' She stepped up slowly into the treehouse stooping her head for the low roof.

'I'm worried about you Sam, I just want to help.' She crawled slowly towards the eyes.

'Sam, let me help you.' Stacey reached out with her right hand. Both candles went out.

'Sam? Are you there? Please speak to me.'

'That's not me Miss, ……..I'm behind you.'

Stacey turned towards the voice. Her breathing deep, quick and wheezing. She screamed as the first impact hit her middle. Two hands pulled at her hair and another two held her legs until she fell to her knees. Stacey felt sharp nails grab her throat tight and pull her to the floor. She tried to scream as she saw four bright eyes glimmering in the dark above her. They , forced her head to turn to the right, pushing her cheek to the wooden floor. She tried to struggle but they were strong, so strong. She tried to cry out, but could only hear her muffled murmours. Her breath jolted as a sudden pain ran over her head and a liquid warmth ran over her face. A weakness came over her like a powerful anaesthetic drug and she lay quiet, unable to move, too hazy too call out. Her eyes closed, she was tired, so tired. Her breathing fell slower and was soon muffled by the sound of a gentle slurping all around her. Parts of her body throbbed and then became numb as the slurping quickened. Stacey remained still, her body heavy and demanding sleep. She let the fuzzy darkness behind her eyes comfort her. She let it come forward, overcome her and soften the hard wooden floor, drown out the frantic slurping and warm her from the shivering cold of the night. Stacey fell deep into her dreams, she let out her last breath and she moved no more. 

Sam struck a match and lit the candle again.

He was panting hard, his body racing with energy. Sam felt so alive. He rubbed his hand over his lips, leaving a dark, red stain on the cuff of his white school shirt. In the dim candlelight, Sam watched the dark shadow of his brother leaning over the still body of Miss Brown, slurping as it fed on her blood. 

'Did I do well?' asked Sam, his chest still heaving and pumping, his eyes wide and wild.

The slurping stopped as the shadow figure turned towards him. A long nailed hand stretched out and touched Sam's face.

'Dad will be so pleased, there's three of us to put food on the table now' it growled in a low, animal like voice.

Sam laughed, his red stained teeth protruding through his lips. He leaned forward and crawled towards Miss Brown's body. Sam moved his lips to her punctured neck and fed once more. Slurping as fast and deep as he could with a long nailed hand lovingly stroking his stooping back.