Short Story
The Little Shepherd Boy “Gran, what a pleasant surprise!” Gary said, seeing they had an unexpected visitor. “Karen, any chance of a quick word?” “Just a second.” Karen was helping Granny Joan take off her coat in the hall. “Go and make yourself comfortable in the sitting room, Joanie, and we’ll make some tea.” She followed her husband into the kitchen. As soon as Joan was out of earshot Gary turned to her urgently. “Where did you put it?” “What?” Karen said, and then her eyes widened. “I haven’t touched it. Where have you put it?” “I can’t remember,” Gary said filling the kettle, “I could’ve sworn I put it under the sink, but it’s not there now.” “Think, Gary, think,” Karen urged, and then called breezily, “Do you take sugar Joan?” “Two lumps please,” Joan called back. “Hurry up you two, I’ve got a lovely treat for you.” Joan had given them one of her treasured porcelain figurines last Easter. It was a little shepherd boy holding a lamb, and the most disturbing thing they’d ever seen. His wonky eyes followed them around the room, and a dribble of paint on his mouth gave the impression that he was trapped in a permanent groan. Even his lamb seemed terrified. Gary called him Zombie Kid. He looked as though he had either been painted by someone on their first day on the job, or a disgruntled employee on their last. Whenever Joan came to visit they put him in pride of place on the mantlepiece and then, with great relief, hid him away after she left. “Didn’t you put him on the bathroom shelf?” Gary asked. “Why would I put him there?” Karen snapped. “I don’t like him looking at me at the best of times, never mind when I’m sat on the lavatory.” “Perhaps we put him in the garage?” Gary suggested. “We did,” Karen said. “But don’t you remember, he came back in all by himself?” The two of them shivered. “That was weird,” Gary whispered. “Gary!” Karen gasped. “I’ve just remembered.” “What?” Gary asked nervously as the kettle came to the boil. “Do you remember when my sister came over to
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help me spring clean?” Karen clutched Gary’s arm. “She chucked him in the box for the charity shop.” “Tell me she didn’t?” Gary pleaded. “She did,” Karen said. “She said, well this creepy thing isn’t going to spark joy for anyone, and in the box it went.” “Why didn’t you stop her?” Gary said. “You know how Gran feels about it.” “I’m so sorry,” Karen sniffed. “I wasn’t thinking. I meant to take him out, but then I just forgot.” “So, he’s finally gone then.” Gary felt a mixture of relief and guilt. “What are we going to tell Gran?” “Tell me what, dear?” Joan said, walking into the kitchen. “Shall we go into the sitting room?” Karen smiled, picking up the tea tray. As she entered the room she nearly threw the lot over the rug. On the coffee table was the little shepherd boy. “Look, I’ve found you another one.” Joan pointed at the figurine. “Isn’t he adorable?” Gary’s mouth opened and closed but he could find no words. “He was in a charity shop,” Joan chuckled. “I thought he could keep his little friend company.” “What a lovely thought.” Karen stared warily at the figurine. “I always wanted two of them.” “It’s the same one isn’t it?” Gary whispered in her ear. “Zombie kid.” Karen nodded slowly. “He’s a gorgeous boy!” Joan smiled indulgently, and then gazed up at the mantlepiece. “So where’s the other one then?”
By Jackie Brewster 89
