Being an only child with too few friends, Ben was scared of most things. He’d crept downstairs after his bedtime one night and caught a glance of Jaws on television. Quint was coughing up blood, staring down at where his legs should have been. Of course, it had to be that scene. Ben’s parents became aware of his nocturnal movements some hours later, when they were called to his room to cleanse its shadows of sharks.

Aunt Patricia didn’t inspire the same terror as Jaws. Not initially. She was just different to what Ben was used to, and so he was more wary than he was afraid. It was as though the woman chose to accentuate her eccentricities whenever he was watching. She would glide across the floor with arms aloft by her sides like some wind-up ballerina. Her right hand habitually held something that she would rub with her thumb, usually a stone or a piece of jewellery. Ben had once seen her clutching one of his toys – a Transformer, its body half-humanoid and half-tank, stolen away before it could fully commit to either form. He hadn’t the courage to rescue it.

Sometimes, her whole body would stiffen and both eyes would grow wide as plates. She’d suck in her lungs and stare aghast at the wall. Ben had followed her eyes and never noted anything extraordinary. But then, her gift wasn’t for the likes of him. These feats and more had made Aunt Patricia a nuisance in the French household. And this was before that night.

It happened in October, with Halloween looming days away. Ben’s imagination was already on high alert. Patricia had landed in on top of them unannounced, as she was known to do, much to his mother’s chagrin. The windows were flung open. Not a care given to the cold. Together with his parents, they’d sat in the sitting room after dinner, sharing an awkward silence that Patricia seemed oblivious to. Eventually, Ben’s mother and father made some flimsy excuse to leave; be it neglected chores or something less convincing, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was left alone with his aunt. She’d spent the evening shuffling a deck of colossal tarot cards, all the while eyeing Ben as though he owed her money.

‘Come here to me,’ she whispered, gently placing her cards down on the floor.

Ben was sat by the fireplace, trying to keep as still as possible for fear that something like this might happen. When he didn’t react, Patricia instead came to him, floating as she always did.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she said, listening for a moment, possibly to make sure that his parents weren’t nearby. ‘Do you hear that?’ she asked nervously.

Ben shook his head. ‘Hear what?’

Hopefully it was his parents returning to rescue him.