This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the 
Today's Maynia prompt: hymn of sanity
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-fourteen
The Daily Freewrite prompt: hand cream
@mariannewest/day-935-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-hand-cream
If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapters”: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen
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Mr Painter's hands were dry but rough. If Billy had hands like that Mum would make him put on hand cream every day. Billy didn't like hand cream. He found it slimy, and it usually smelt funny. Like flowers but not in a good way.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Billy said. "I've never met a real author before."
The bookshop owner - Ernie, he'd said his name was - laughed.
"I'm not sure you have now," he said.
Billy could tell by the way Mr Painter and Ernie looked at each other that they were good friends. It was like Billy's friend Ian. Sometimes they said really mean things to each other, but it was only because they both knew that it wasn't true that it was okay. Friends could say things that other people couldn't.
Billy stood back while his mother introduced herself and then Heather told Mr Painter that she had met Mr Poppery and he had cut her. The scar was really quite visible still. It was more of a scratch than a scar, Billy supposed. But he was kind of jealous that his baby sister had the mark and that she had Mr Painter's full attention.
“I like the title of your book,” he said, interrupting his sister.
“Billy,” his mother said. “Heather was talking. You’ll get your turn.”
Heather stuck her tongue out. Billy saw that Ernie noticed and smiled.
“Thank you,” Mr Painter said.
“You were going to call it something else, weren’t you?” Ernie asked. “What was it now…?”
“Hymn of Sanity” Mr Painer said. “But my publisher said it didn’t make sense. Not for a true crime book.”
“He was right,” Ernie said.
“She was right,” Mr Painter corrected. “They edited out the passage that title referred to anyway, so it didn’t make sense. Sorry,” Mr Painter smiled at Heather. “Please, go on.”
“Well, I wanted to go on the ghost train again. I’d been on it the day before and it was scary, but fun. I wanted to go on it again. Billy didn’t want to go on it. He said it was for babies.”
“I said it was for little girls,” Billy said. “Not babies. And I wanted to look at the books in here.” He smiled at Ernie, and Ernie smiled back. “I like books,” Billy said to Mr Painter. “That’s where I found your book.” He pointed to the “Local” shelf at the back of the book. “Over there under some other books.”
“Thanks for giving it pride of place,” Mr Painter said.
“You’re welcome. To be honest, I’d forgotten I even had a copy.”
“Right… any way,” Mr Painter said to Heather. “Carry on.”
“So Mummy and me-”
“Mummy and I,” Mum said.
“Mummy and I went to the ghost train. The sky looked kinda funny like it was going to rain, but at the same time really sunny. I looked out for a rainbow, because sometimes when it rains and there is sunshine you get rainbows. I like rainbows, don’t I, Mummy?” Mum nodded. Heather shook her head, her face sad. “But there wasn’t a rainbow.”
“It was a strange sky,” Mum said. “It felt wierd too. You know how sometimes it feels when there is going to be a storm. Like the air is full to bursting with electricity.”
Billy watched Ernie and Mr Painter exchange a look and then Mr Painter nodded.
“Anyway,” Heather continued. “There was no rainbow to look at so we went to the Ghost Train. We had to wait for a moment, even though there wasn’t anyone else there. Then a fat man-”
“Heather! What have I told you about using that word?”
“But he was fat, Mummy.” She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout that Billy knew only too well. “And he was grumpy too. Mummy said, afterwards that he shouldn’t be running an amusement ride for children if he couldn’t be nice.”
“Perhaps he was in character,” Billy said. Everyone turned to look at him. “Well, it is a ghost train. Perhaps he’s supposed to be mean and grumpy. If I was a ghost I’d be grumpy. Being dead and everything.I would probably enjoy being mean to little girls. So maybe the man was pretending to be a grumpy old ghost.”
Heather shook her head.
“No,” she said. “He was just being mean and grumpy. Wasn’t he, Mummy.”
“I don’t think it was an act,” Mum said to Billy. “I think it was his baseline.”
“So, eventually we get on the ghost train and the man locked the bar over me and made sure it was secure and then we were off.” Heather paused. Billy thought she was enjoying being the centre of attention. She played to it. Mum called it “holding court.” Like a princess. “It was dark. Very dark. But I wasn’t scared. The dark doesn’t scare me. Does it, Mummy?” Mum shook her head. “Billy used to be scared of the dark, didn’t you Billy.”
“No!”
“You did! Mummy said you had to have a night light on all night until last year.” She looked at Mr Painter, with a big and - to Billy’s mind - a rather smug smile on her stupid face. “I’ve never had a night light.”
“Well, at least I didn’t wet my pants because I forgot to go to the toilet.”
“Shut up!”
“Heather! Don’t speak to your brother, like that. And Billy, don’t say things like that in front of strangers.” Mum looked embarrased. “Sorry,” she said to Mr Painter and Ernie. “You must think I’ve raised a couple of monsters.”
“Not at all,” Ernie said, grinning. “As a matter of fact, the first time I met Billy I was struck by what a nice, pleasant and polite young man he is.”
Billy felt himself going red.
“That was ages ago,” Heather whispered at Billy. “And you promised not to mention it again.” Billy stuck his tongue out. But he felt bad. Because he had promised not to bring it up. And he had meant it, too, when he mad the promise. It had slipped out. He hadn’t really meant to say it. Heather always seemed to know how to irritate him.
“Sorry,” he said. Heather looked at him and narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to see if he was playing a trick on her.
“That’s alright,” she said, evenutally, obviously deciding he was being nice. “I was mean to you too.”
“Anyway,” Mr Painter said. “You were on the Ghost Train, and it was dark. But you weren’t scared…”
“Yes. I don’t know if you’ve been on the Ghost Train at Milford Hayes Park?” Milford Hayes Park was an amusement park Heather had been to couple of times with some friends. She never stopped going on about how fabulous it was. Mr Painter shook his head. “Well, they have the best Ghost Train ever,” Heather said, beaming. “It is really quite fabulous.”
Mr Painter nodded. Billy thought he looked like adults look sometimes when they are worried someone has forgotten what they are talking about. “Going round the houses,” Mum said sometimes.
“What about the Humpbuckle-on-Sea Ghost Train,” Mr Painter said. “Tell me about what happened the other day.”
“Yes, anyway. It’s not as good as the Milford Hayes Park Ghost Train because they have real people who jump out at you. The Ghost Train here just has things that dangle in your face and things that brush by you as you go. And things that make a noise, like this: woooooooooo!”
Mr Painter and Ernie laughed. Heather beamed and made the noise again.
“That’s enough, now, dear,” Mum said as she saw Heather taking a deep breath ready for another wooooooo. Mum always said you need to nip things in the bud with Heather or she would go on and on and on and on.
“Anyway, we went round once and it was fun. It made me jump a couple of times. But not as good as Milford Hayes Park. But I said to Mummy that I wanted to go on again. She didn’t want to. She said we should probably get back because Billy would be wondering where we were, and I said no he wouldn’t because he knew we were going on the Ghost Train and he knew that I would want to go on it twice. And besides,” she grinned at Billy. “He takes ages in book shops!”
Billy nodded. She was right. On all counts.
“So Mummy agreed and paid the f-” Heather stopped herself before Mum could tell her off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Grumpy man. And we went around again. But this time it was different.”
“Different, how?” Mr Painter asked.
“There was somethiing in the train with us,” Heather said. “I could tell. And some of the things that flapped in my face weren’t there the first time.” She looked a bit sheepish. “I felt a bit scared. Didn’t I Mummy?”
Mum nodded.
“I didn’t notice anything different,” she admitted. “But Heather was scared. She said as much.”
“And then I saw him,” Heather said. She looked pale to Billy in the dim light of the shop. “He looked both old and not old. With strange yellowy white hair. He looked a bit like one of the people they have dressed up as ghosts at Milford Hayes Park. But more scary. Because I could tell he wasn’t dressed up. He was something…” she drifted off and put her finger in her mouth for a minute. Billy could tell she was thinking of what word would best describe him. “He was just not right.”
“And you,” Mr Painter turned to Mum. “Cynthia. Did you see him?”
Mum shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking.” She looked a bit embarrassed and her hand flew to her ear. “I’d lost and earing. I was fumbling about on the floor for it.”
“He had things around him.”
“Things?”
“Dark things. Like shadows,” Heather said. “Even in the darkness I could see them.”
Billy snorted.
“You could see shadows in the dark?”
Pouty face.
“Yes, BIlly. I know what I saw.”
“So,” Mr Painter said, slowly. “Tell me what happened next.”
“I saw that he had something in his hand. There was a bit of light. It flashed. I think it was part of the ride. I could see he had something that glinted. I don’t think I realised it was a knife at first.” Heather’s eyes were wide now. Billy thought she might cry.
“You don’t have to tell us any more,” Mr Painter said, his voice soft and kind.
Heather wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“No,” she said. “I want to.” She took a deep breath. “He lunged towards me and I screamed and I’m sure I heard the Shadow Things laugh.” She took another deep breath. “And then he whispered in my ear. ‘Hello little girl. Nice to meet you. I go by the name of Poppery.’ And then his hand moved and my face hurt and I screamed again and then Mummy had hold of me and suddently we were out of the Ghost Train and the fat - sorry - grumpy man was standing there and Mummy was crying because I had a mark on my face. I told the man there was someone in there, but he didn’t believe me, and Mummy said she hadn’t seen anyone. And then the man went and looked. But he wasn’t gone very long so I don’t think he looked properly.” She looked at Billy. “A bit like when you can’t find something and Mummy tells you to look properly and you say you have but you haven’t really. And then when Mummy looks she finds it straight away. But the man wouldn’t let Mummy look.”
Mr Painter nodded and looked at Heather and then Billy and then back again.
“I believe you,” he said. “I believe everyting you said. Can I check one thing?”
Heather nodded.
“Did you remember the name ‘Poppery’ after Billy read the book?”
“She told me that was his name just after it happened,” Billy said. “I hadn’t read your book then. It wasn’t until the next day I read that you had interviewed someone who mentioned ‘Poppery’. That was why we came to talk to Mr Ernie, here.” He pointed at Ernie. “Because he said you were a friend.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Mr Painter said.
“She told me about the man.” Mum said. “She described everything to me just after it happened, just as she did to you.”
Mr Painter looked thoughtful. Then after a whole he smiled at Heather.
“Thank you so much. You’ver been very helpful. Now, I think I need to go and have a word with the grumpy man,” he said.
“Can I come?” Heather asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Mum looked worried. “I don’t want you near that place.”
“But Mummy! You promised we could go to the theatre! And that is right next to the Ghost Train.”
Mum bit her lip. And for a minute Billy thought she would say she had changed her mind. But then she nodded.
“You’re right. I did promise that. Do you mind if we all come, Mr Painter?”
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As usual I wrote the freewrite in five minutes using themostdangerouswritingapp.com and then copied and pasted it into a googledoc, tied it up a bit.
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I also run a bed and breakfast in France!