The Puffin Book of Horror Stories

    Isabel was standing at the bus-stop with Belinda Price; fat, reliable Belinda, always there when you needed her, her best friend. A week had passed and all the time it had built up inside her, what had happened in the bathroom, the story of the bath. But still Isabel had kept it to herself. Why? Because she was afraid of being laughed at? Because she was afraid no one would believe her? Because, simply, she was afraid. In that week she had done no work… at school or at home. She had been told off twice in class. Her clothes and her hair were in a state. Her eyes were dark with lack of sleep. But in the end she couldn't hold it back any more. She had told Belinda.

    And now the other girl shrugged. 'I've heard of haunted houses,' she muttered. 'And haunted castles. I've eyen heard of a haunted car. But a haunted bath…?'

    'It happened, just like I said.'

    'Maybe you think it happened. If you think something hard enough it can often

    'It wasn't my imagination,' Isabel interrupted.

    Then the bus came and the two girls got on, showing their passes to the driver. They took their seats on the top deck, near the back. They always sat in the same place without quite knowing why.

    'You can't keep coming round to my place,' Belinda said. 'I'm sorry, Bella, but my mum's beginning to ask what's going on.'

    'I know.' Isabel sighed. She had managed to go round to Belinda's house three nights running and had showered there, grateful for the hot, rushing water. She had told her parents that she and Belinda were working on a project. But Belinda was right. It couldn't go on forever.

    The bus reached the traffic lights and turned on to the main road. Belinda screwed up her face, deep in thought. All the teachers said how clever she was, not just because she worked hard but because she let you see it. 'You say the bath is an old one,' she said at last.

    'Yes?'

    'Do you know where your parents got it?'

    Isabel thought back. 'Yes. It came from a place in Fulham. I've been there with them before.'

    'Then why don't you go there and ask them about it? I mean, if it is haunted there must be a reason. There's always a reason, isn't there?'

    'You mean… someone might have died in it or something?' The thought made Isabel shiver.

    'Yes. My gran had a heart attack in the bath. It didn't kill her though…'

    'You're right!' The bus was climbing up the hill now. Muswell Hill Broadway was straight ahead. Isabel gathered her things. 'I could go there on Saturday. Will you come too?'

    'My mum and dad wouldn't let me.'

    'You can tell them you're at my place. And I'll tell my parents I'm at yours.'

    'What if they check?'

    'They never do.' The thought made Isabel sad. Her parents never did wonder where she was, never seemed to worry about her. They were too wrapped up in themselves.

    'Well… I don't know

    'Please, Belinda. On Saturday. I'll give you a call.'

    That night the bath played its worst trick yet.

    Isabel hadn't wanted to have a bath. During dinner she'd made a point of telling her parents how tired she was, how she was looking forward to an early night. But her parents were tired too. They'd argued earlier in the evening… they were going to the cinema the following week-end and couldn't decide on the film. The atmosphere around the table had been distinctly jagged and Isabel found herself wondering just how much longer the family could stay together. Divorce. It was a horrible word, like an illness. Some of her friends had been off school for a week and then come back pale and miserable and had never been quite the same again. They'd caught it… divorce.

    'Upstairs, young lady!' Her mother's voice broke into her thoughts. 'I think you'd better have a bath…'

    'Not tonight, Mum.'

    'Tonight. You've hardly used that bath since it was installed. What's the matter with you? Don't you like it?'

    'No. I don't…'

    That made her father twitch with annoyance. 'What's wrong with it?' he asked, sulking.

    But before she could answer, her mother chipped in.

    'It doesn't matter what's wrong with it. It's the only bath we've got so you're just going to have to get used to it.'

    'I won't.'

    Her parents looked at each other, momentarily helpless. Isabel realized that she had never defied them before - not like this. They were thrown. But then her mother stood up. 'Come on, Isabel,' she said. 'I've had enough of this stupidity. I'll come with you.'

    And so the two of them went upstairs, Susan with that pinched, set look that meant she couldn't be argued with. But Isabel didn't argue with her. If her mother ran the bath, she would see for herself what was happening. She would see that something was wrong…

    'Right…' Susan pushed the plug in and turned on the taps. Ordinary, hot, clear water gushed out. 'I really don't understand you, Isabel,' she exclaimed over the roar of the water. 'Maybe you've been staying up too late. I thought it was only six-year-olds who didn't like having baths. There!' The bath was full. Susan tested the water, swirling it round with the tips of her fingers. 'Not too hot. Now let's see you get in.'

    'Mum