The Child from Hell
MERVYN BLAKE
Her teacher, Mrs Sims – who knew May’s mother – had asked May if she could mind her son Jason for three hours on Saturday evening.
Jason was a handsome six-year-old. He beamed at May when she arrived. He was genial and biddable. There were smiles all round. Mrs Sims put him to bed.
‘He’s asleep,’ she announced as she left. May settled in for a quiet evening of television.
Within five minutes of his parents’ depature, Jason appeared, wanting juice. May couldn’t be sure, but she thought he threw it over the television deliberately. May had the sense to switch it off at the mains.
Jason grinned, ‘More!’
He had a wicked grin. May obliged. What else could she do?
Jason tripped, beaker in hand, and the juice saturated the smart new sofa. While she cleaned up as best as she could, Jason disappeared. I mean, he really disappeared. May could find him nowhere in the house.
May became hysterical. She searched high and low, but in the end, she was forced to text Mrs Sims and…
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