"We've gotta stop the zombies getting in, Josh," his mother always said. He'd watch her each evening, going round locking all the doors, then going round a second time to check she'd locked them all the first time.

Josh didn't believe in zombies anymore. He did, however, believe there must be something worth seeing outside - other than zombies - that his mother didn't want him to know about. When he was very young he had decided that as soon as he was tall enough to reach the locks he would open them and see for himself.

Josh went through a growth spurt when he was nearly nine, and soon found he was tall enough to read the bolt on the door to the cupboard under the stairs. This was the lowest door in the house. It was the only one his mother had to stoop to go through, but she didn't open it that often.

"What's in the cupboard under the stairs?" he asked on his ninth birthday.

He thought that as he had reached this latest milestone, she might feel like imparting a few more of the house's secrets to him. Plus he was going to give her the chance to tell the truth before he found out for himself anyway. She hadn't noticed yet just how tall he had grown recently.

"There's nothing in the cupboard, Josh," she told him, but checked the bolt twice that night as usual. Then she packed him off to bed and went back downstairs to check all the locks a third and final time.

Josh could only ever sleep with his night-light on. Ever since infancy he'd been afraid of spiders crawling down from the ceiling and him not being able to see them coming. Lying in the dark he would be too worried to sleep. That night, he wanted to stay awake, so he turned the night-light off as soon as his mother had left the room.

He waited until midnight. Josh knew it was midnight because the face of his clock glowed in the dark. He never knew it could do that, because he'd never seen it in the dark before. The illuminated clock-face also helped him place himself. If the clock was on the desk, and he was on his bed facing it, then his bedroom door must be on his right. It would be easy to get lost in the dark, he thought.

Shortly before midnight, his mother went to bed. The last sound he heard from the room next door was her turning the latch on the door and switching off the light. He didn't know how long it took someone to fall asleep, but he knew his mother was a snorer, so he just listened for that. He heard plenty of other noises - noises outside - but no snores.

He quickly grew restless, and decided not to wait any longer. He slipped out of bed and started across the room with his eyes closed. It wasn't as if he could see much anyway, but in his head he could imagine the layout of the room perfectly, and plotted a slow course around all the floorboards he knew creaked.

He reached the door quicker than he'd expected and went to open it. He hesitated. It was strange. He had opened this door a thousand times, but he did it so often he could no longer remember what sound it made. He didn't know whether to open it quickly, and risk a louder noise, or open it slowly, and risk a longer noise. When he did eventually open it, however, it made no noise at all.

There was only one window in the hallway outside his bedroom. It was small, round, opaque and too high above the landing for curtains. There was a dim yellow streetlight outside the window, and it was by the light of this that Josh started down the stairs. He counted the steps as he reached them and avoided the seventh. He remembered how it made a noise when stepped on. As a result, he miscounted, and reached the bottom unexpectedly, twisting his ankle in doing so.

His wince was probably louder than he realised. He froze only for a second to listen for signs of movement upstairs. There were none. He reached into the darkness surrounding him until he found the side of the stairs again, then felt his way along it until he found the cupboard door. He knew he had found it when his fingers ran across a vertical groove in the wood.

It didn't even occur to him, as he stood on his toes to reach the bolt, that he would need a light to see what was behind the door. The bolt was higher than he'd imagined. He hadn't actually had the opportunity to reach for it before, but he'd sized it up adequately and judged himself tall enough to manage it now. As it turned out, he wasn't quite tall enough to get his fingers around the bolt. He'd have to tease it open with his fingertips. It was stiff, and it didn't come easily, but at least it was quiet.

Josh didn't know what he did, or what he had done, but as soon as he had the bolt open, the hallway lights came on and blinded him. These were the same lights they had on all day, but his eyes had grown so accustomed to the darkness they now found the light unbearable.

"Josh?" called his mother from the landing. She didn't sound like a woman who was half-asleep. Josh wondered whether his wince had woken her, or whether she hadn't even been asleep at all.

He didn't answer her. He knew he had to hide. He'd never been told not to look in the cupboard, but now he had an overwhelming feeling that he ought not to. He stumbled squinting down the hall, but the lounge was locked and so were the kitchen and dining room. He wasn't tall enough to reach their locks, but by this time his mother was already on the stairs anyway. He heard her on the seventh step.

"What are you doing, Josh?" she asked calmly.

When he opened his eyes, she was standing right there. She hadn't even got undressed yet. Josh didn't say anything at first. He wondered if - somehow - she had known all along.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," she warned him. "You do remember what happened to your father, don't you, Josh?"

"Yes," he lied. He didn't remember what had happened. He couldn't even remember who his father was. He only knew, from what she had told him, that his father was someone who should have been around, but wasn't.

"Then let's get back to bed, shall we?"

It wasn't really a question, so Josh didn't answer. His mother didn't say anymore. She just glared at him for a moment, then snapped the bolt back into place and took his hand in her own. Josh didn't think it was the right time to tell her about his ankle, as she led him back to bed.

At some point over the next few days, the bolt on the cupboard door was moved several inches higher. Josh could see holes in the wood where it used to be screwed in. He reckoned it would take him another year to grow tall enough to reach it again, but he was in no hurry to be caught doing that again.

Neither of them ever said anything about what had happened, but his mother had obviously not forgotten. When he watched her check the bolt on the door one evening she looked at him, pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

"If a door's locked," she said. "Then it's locked for a reason."

"I know," he said.

"We've gotta stop the zombies getting in, Josh. Don't you want me to stop the zombies getting in?"

"Are there zombies in the cupboard, then?" he asked. There had been a time - before he was nine - when he would never have been so cheeky.

"No, Josh," she replied bluntly. "There's nothing in the cupboard."

And then it was time for bed again.

When Josh finally found out what was inside the cupboard under the stairs it was closer to his tenth birthday than his ninth. He'd stopped needing the night-light by this time. If he saw any eight-legged vermin on the ceiling now he'd catch them and kill them himself. He figured if he was ever going to convince her he was old enough to see inside the cupboard then he'd have to prove he wasn't afraid of such silly things anymore.

It seemed to work. One day she caught him sitting in the bay window, looking out into their overgrown garden. After that she began talking of getting a latch for his bedroom door - just like her own - so long as he promised to stay away from the window. It made him feel older to be given the responsibility over his own lock, even though she never got round to installing it.

Josh broke his promise about the window whenever he was sure he could get away with it. He was now tall enough to see over the windowsill and the outside world fascinated him as much as the contents of the cupboard. Their garden was large and surrounded by a tall fence. There was a gate in the fence. This was bolted too. However, the first person Josh saw in the garden didn't come through the gate - he came over the fence.

The little boy was Josh's age. His hands appeared first, then his head, and then he swung a leg up. Josh guessed somebody was lifting him up on the other side of the fence and pressed his nose against the glass to get a better look. The boy dropped down into the long grass and began looking around. He had come for a ball. Josh hadn't seen it come over, but now he saw it beneath the window. He tapped quietly on the window and pointed. The boy looked startled to see Josh. He didn't take his unblinking eyes from him as he reached for the ball, then he grabbed it, tossed it over the fence, then scrambled back over after it.

Josh didn't tell his mother what he had seen. That would be admitting he'd broken his promise, and if he did that she might never let him see inside the cupboard. He kept quiet even when, during dinner, they both heard the gate in the fence being rattled. After all, it had been a little boy he had seen - not a zombie.

"What's that?" he asked innocently.

"Just eat your dinner, Josh," she said, getting up.

Then she disappeared for a couple of minutes and Josh imagined she'd gone back to the bay window. Before she returned, the rattling had turned into a banging, which Josh could hear, even from the back room.

"What is it?" he asked nervously.

"It's nothing," she said. "Put your plate in the sink, Josh. You can finish it later."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to show you what's in the cupboard under the stairs now, Josh. That's why."

He stood up and slid his plate through the hatch between the kitchen and dining room. She cleared his place mat and drink coaster from the table. There was now no evidence he'd even been sitting there with her.

"Why now?" he wondered. "And why are you doing that?"

"Why not now? Don't you want to see what's in the cupboard under the stairs anymore, Josh?"

"I don't know anymore," he told her.

Now he had the opportunity to find out, Josh wasn't so sure he wanted to. He got the sudden impression from the urgency in her voice that whatever was in the cupboard under the stairs, it wasn't worth knowing about.

"Well, you've been asking me for years," she said.

"I've changed my mind."

Just then the banging on the gate suddenly stopped. There was silence, but only for a moment. Then he banging returned, only it was louder and it was nearer. Someone was hammering on their front door.

"Quickly," she said. "Come with me."

Josh took her hand, thinking she wouldn't be showing him to the cupboard after all. By the time he realised she was, her grip on him was too tight.

"I don't want to know! I don't want to know!" he protested as she dragged him in front of the cupboard door.

"Do be quiet, Josh," she said calmly.

When they came in sight of the front door, the knocking intensified. Josh could see formless dark shapes moving behind the frosted glass. He struggled on the end of his mother's arm. With the other hand she unlocked the cupboard door.

She paused before opening it and he stopped fighting her.

"What's in there?" he whispered.

"There's nothing in there, Josh," she maintained.

Then she opened the door. She hadn't been lying to him all these years. The cupboard under the stairs was empty.

"Get in the cupboard, Josh," she said, giving him a gentle push.

"Why?" he cried, pushing back.

"Because it's you they've come for this time."

Josh got into the cupboard. She had never lied to him before, he just hadn't believed it. He believed her now. The last thing she did before closing him in was smile. That was the only thing that stopped him from bursting into tears.

"You've got to be quiet in there, Josh. They'll be looking for you. Don't let them find you. I've gotta stop the zombies getting in, Josh."

That was the last thing she ever said to him, as she locked him in.

Josh crouched quietly in the darkness for a long time. The cupboard was cold and smelly, and it was so dusty he could even taste the dust on his tongue. He was shivering - or trembling - and he needed to sneeze, but he didn't dare make a sound. The door muffled sounds from outside. There were more bangs, voices and shouts, but they all sounded a long way away.

When it went quiet, Josh pressed his ear against the cupboard door. There was still one voice. It was a deep voice and it was speaking right outside the cupboard. He couldn't hear what it was saying, but he knew it wasn't his mother. It he peered through the gap between the door and the wall, he could see a dark shape - just like those he had seen outside.

He was most surprised when that dark shape turned and knocked on the door. He knew it was his door - he had felt the vibration through his ear. He backed away, not even daring to breathe. There came a second knock, but whoever it was didn't wait for a reply before they unlocked the door this time.

"Hi there," said a voice.

Josh squinted. He had been in the cupboard too long. His eyes were not used to daylight.

"I'm Mr Price," it continued.

Mr Price didn't look like a zombie, Josh thought - but then he remembered his mother had never actually described what they look like.

"I'm with the police," he said. "Do you want to come out of there, Josh?"

He wasn't acting like a zombie either, Josh realised. Zombies just attacked you. They didn't smile at you, or talk to you, or ask you questions nicely.

"Where's my mum?" he asked.

"We're looking after her, Josh," said Mr Price. "She's not feeling very well at the moment. Maybe if you come out you can see her."

Josh didn't know whether to trust this man, but he didn't see any alternative. He couldn't stay in the cupboard until his mother returned, because he had this mounting fear that she might not. He stood up. Mr Price smiled.

"It's okay, Josh," he said. "Come on out. You can trust me."

Josh came out of the cupboard slowly. Mr Price smiled again, then put an arm around Josh's shoulders. He guided Josh toward the front door, which was open, but the front door was as far as Josh could go.

"It's okay, Josh," said Mr Price once more.

"I'm not allowed outside," Josh told him plainly.

"We know, Josh," he said. "But it'll be okay."

Josh believed him, and stepped out into the fresh air. It was warm and the sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky. The garden was full of uniformed strangers, but Josh hardly noticed. The gate was open.

NOTES:
The first draft of this story was also written for Bernadine Evaristo's writing class at UEA in summer 2002. She called it "splendid" and people who don't mince their words rarely use such emotive adjectives. The second draft, in which I tweaked the scene with the little boy coming to retrieve his ball and toned up the final section with Mr Price, I completed in October 2002 for Andrew Garvin's creative writing class and submitted as a piece of coursework. It got 62%, so I appealed to have it remarked. Then got 61%. Up yours too, UEA.