A Halloween short story: by The Woman in Black’s Susan Hill

‘This is a true story…’ Right. Only this time, it really is. There are no wails, whistling winds or taps on window panes, so you may find it a trifle prosaic, but because my tale has none of the traditional accoutrements that may make it all the more chilling. Stay with me.

In June this year we had two cars, a Vauxhall Antara and a Volkswagen Tiguan, and it was in the Antara that we set off to the Cotswolds, from where my partner would continue to London for an event requiring evening clothes — which she had left behind in the house. By wondrous chance, we were passing a shopping centre, into which she dashed for a substitute outfit, taking her phone because she was expecting an important call. She returned to the car sans phone. The shop people searched the place, we retraced her steps, ransacked the car, including — and this is important — both door pockets several times. Hope was abandoned and the following week, she replaced her phone (and this is where I want you to follow me closely, Jeeves) with a different model.

Three months later, the Antara died, and went to an auction of extinct motors, which are scoured for personal effects, bought for spare parts, and then crushed. No phone was found. The certificate of sale and subsequent destruction arrived, as did a new car — a different model. And there, for the moment, the story rests.

In late September, not to be outdone, I lost my own phone, hunted everywhere, including every inch of my car, including the door pockets several times.

No phone. I didn’t replace it, because my motto is ‘It’ll turn up.’

Little did I know.