'Sam…are you walking home alone again?'

'Yes Miss Brown..'

'And where is your father today?'

'He'll be resting, he's was working last night.'

'He's been working a lot lately, I'm not sure I've ever seen him.'

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

After 7 years of teaching, Stacey Brown knew when a child repeated a sentence spoken by a parent. Children hung onto such things when searching for a way out of something they didn't quite understand.

'May I walk with you?'

Sam shrugged his shoulders and they set off together down the steep Camp Road Hill, passing the two main council estates on the way back into 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. 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 class, at first she thought this might have played a part in the other kids avoiding him. But it soon became obvious that he just liked to play alone, preferring to stay inside during breaks and lunchtimes. The other kids would try and sit beside him, but he would never let them. In return they would mock his oversized 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.

'Do you like school Sam?'

'It's okay.'

'What about your classmates?'

'Erm, they are okay too.'

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

'No.'

'Why is that?'

'Erm, well it's John, he doesn't like them.'

'John? You mean your brother?'

'Yeah.'

'Sam, does John come to school with you then?'

'Yeah. He likes to. He helped me with my geography test today.'

'I thought he…., I thought he had gone away?'

'He did, but he came back, he lives in the treehouse.'

They were approaching 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 stretched up over four floors beside the old oak tree that dominated their garden. It was easily one of the most impressive properties in town.

'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?'

'Okay. John likes you, so he says I should.'

'Good. See you tomorrow then.'

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

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 lonely. He has been ever since his brother died last year.'

Stacey looked at her with the open mouth of an adventurer consulting her oracle. Mrs Langstaff loved that look. She took a few, slow steps towards her office window before continuing.

'The boy has a unique kind of imaginary friend Miss Brown. One that did actually once live.'

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

Mrs Langstaff stared at her until she looked away.

'And did you also notice that he dresses himself in his brother's clothes? Eats the same lunch that his brother used to? No? I thought not. He does these things Miss Brown because he believes they will make it easier for John to appear to him.'

'Oh My God!' Stacey lifted her hands to cover her mouth.

'You say the boy is very bright?'

'Yes.'

'Have you ever considered he may even be speaking to you as his brother on occasion?'

'You think?'

'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?'

'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 notebook with a loud clap. Stacey jumped, and then left.

'Why do I have to stay with you tonight Miss?'

Sam followed her into the small, sea front cottage dragging his bag behind him.

'It's just for one night Sam.'

'Does Dad know?'

'We've been trying to get hold of him all day.'

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

Stacey stooped down to Sam's height.

'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. Would you like fish and chips for tea?'

Sam sighed and then nodded.

Stacey poured herself a glass of red wine. What a day it had been.

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 upstairs in the spare room. 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 his room. Sam was talking to someone.

Stacey placed her hand on the doorknob. She could hear two voices laughing now. She turned the handle slowly and then spun it quickly opening the door. The bedroom window slammed shut violently, the 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.

'Who was that?' There was no sign of anyone anywhere outside.

Sam looked at her from the duvet wrapped around his face.

'It was John,' he whispered softly. 'He wants me to go and play in the treehouse.'

Stacey looked at him, he was scared, so was she.

'You can't do that, you know that don't you Sam?'

'I know.. may I have drink?'

She nodded, she needed one herself.

Downstairs Stacey took a long gulp of wine as she filled a glass with orange cordial. She walked back up to Sam's room, happy to hear no more voices. Stepping inside, a cold draft kissed her face. The window was open and he was gone.

'The treehouse, the treehouse, the fucking treehouse,' muttered Stacey as she fumbled her key into ignition. Her car sped away and raced right through the main town centre traffic lights, wheelspinning slightly on the bend into Selby Terrace. She pulled up alongside Selby House and stared up to the large oak tree. There was a dim light, shimmering from the treehouse.

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

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

No Answer. Stacey looked around her, as her eyes gradually adapted to the dark, she noticed the rope ladder. She placed one hand on a rung at head height and stepped up, climbing her way to the dim light above.

She drew nearer to the treehouse entrance.

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

No answer, but something definitely moved above her. Stacey pulled hard with her arms on the last few rope steps. Her hand moved inside the treehouse and pulled her head and shoulders in. It seemed much bigger inside 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, a gameboy, 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 walked slowly towards the eyes.

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

'Sam? Are you there?'

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

Stacey turned towards the voice. Two bodies jumped on her from either side, pulling her to the floor. She screamed as she saw two sets of bright eyes glimmering in the dark above her. They were holding her down, forcing her head to turn to the right, pushing her cheek to the wooden floor. She tried to struggle but they were strong, so strong. Her breath jolted as a sudden pain throbbed through her head, a liquid warmth ran over her face. A dark weakness came over her like a powerful anaesthetic drug. Stacey stopped. Her eyes closed and she was still.

John lit the candles again, looking onto his brother's wild eyes for the first time in a year.

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

John stretched out a long nailed hand and touched Sam's face. He smiled.

'Dad will be so pleased, there's three of us to put food on the table now.'