Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 100, Nos. 4 & 5. Whole Nos. 603 & 604, October 1992

At some point Mitch came up from a dive and saw Danny standing by the edge. She was dressed as if for church, in blouse, skirt, socks and shoes. Her hair was in bunches tied with white ribbon. He grabbed Clive’s arm and pointed. Clive wasn’t going to miss an opening like this. He called out derisively to the others, “Look who’s finally turned up.”

“My mother made me go to the fete,” Danny explained. “I only just got away.”

“Coming in?” Mitch called out.

“There isn’t time.”

“Course there’s time.”

“There isn’t. He’ll be back soon. When I left, he was walking round the stalls, but it won’t take him long to get round. You’d better get out.”

They hesitated, each boy swivelling his head to see if one of the others was willing to climb out first. Truth to tell, the hard lads of Class 5 had turned coy. Their naked state in front of the girl — the girl with no inhibitions about her own body — was a more immediate concern than being caught and eaten by Sam Coldharbour.

She said, “I think I can hear the car.” She turned to look along the drive.

There was turmoil in the water. Modesty abandoned, everyone struck out for the side. Lily-white bottoms were everywhere exposed, bent over the tiled edges of the pool in the scramble to get out.

“It’s him!” Danny shouted.

To shrieks of alarm, the bathing party broke up. No one had time to put on clothes. They grabbed their things and scampered across the grass, dropping garments as they fled.

A squeal of brakes from Sam Coldharbour’s BMW added to the panic. The car skidded and stopped, raising dust. Coldharbour leapt out and sprinted after someone. Mitch saw enough to convince himself that it would be suicidal to try to get through the gate, so he made for the railings some way down. He flung his clothes over, grabbed the top and hauled himself up. He perched up there a moment before leaping to the pavement. The sense of relief at getting out was so overwhelming that it took him a second or two to realise that he was standing naked in a suburban street. He went behind a tree and struggled into his clothes. He was a sock short, but he didn’t care.

Further along Almond Avenue, Podge had made a similar escape. He’d left both shoes in the garden.

Daley and Morgan came running from the other direction. “Anyone get caught?” Morgan asked.

“Don’t know,” Mitch admitted. “Let’s go back to the rec. That’s where we’ll meet.”

“If he did

catch anyone—” Podge started to say.

“Your shirt’s inside out,” Mitch interposed.

Members of the bathing party arrived at the swings at intervals and told of narrow escapes and grazed flesh and missing garments. Clive insisted that he’d been thrown to the ground by old Coldharbour and only got away because he was still wet and too slippery to hold. Nobody placed much reliance on things Clive said.

Roger had gone straight home feeling sick, but all eight of the bathers were accounted for.

“What about Danny?” Mitch said. “Did anyone see Danny get out?”

“He was chasing her,” said Podge. “I saw the cannibal chasing her.”

“She’s an ace runner,” said Clive. “She’ll turn up soon.”

His optimism wasn’t justified. The shadow of the swing lengthened and faded in the dusk and Danny didn’t come.

“She must have gone straight home,” Clive said eventually.

“We ought to make sure,” said Podge.

“How can we, you fat git?” Mitch rounded on him. “We don’t know where she lives.”

“We ought to tell the police or something.”

“If she doesn’t come home, her mum will report it.”

Mitch’s faith in grown-ups prevailed. It was conceded that nothing could be done and they dispersed, after vowing to assemble again at the same place next day. “And I bet she turns up as usual,” said Clive.

In reality, Mitch had a horrid conviction that Clive was mistaken. Danny would not turn up, and he was responsible for the adventure that had gone so tragically wrong. In bed that night, he struggled to reassure himself that somehow his father must have been misinformed and cannibalism had not broken out in suburban Worcester Park. No one could get away with it, even if they were so ghoulish as to try. But the fears returned at intervals through the night.

In the morning everyone except Danny turned up at the rec. The optimists among them said they should wait. Clive wanted to go to the police right away.

“No,” said Podge. “They don’t believe kids like us. We’ll get done for trespassing, and it’ll get in the papers, and our new schools will know about it.”

“What are we going to do, then?” said Clive. “We can’t just forget about Danny. She’s in the gang.”

“It was never a gang,” said Mitch.

“Was.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Was.”

“While you’re arguing,” said Clive, “Danny might still be alive. She could be killed any minute.”

Mitch may have been short of original ideas, but he was sharp enough to tell when his leadership was under threat. This was a moment for action. “We’re going back to the house.”

“What?”