The 2nd Fontana Book of Great Horror Stories (1967)

THE SPIDER

By Elizabeth Walter

After callously flushing a little spider down his kitchen sink with boiling water, Justus (a confirmed arachnophobe) is awoken in the middle of the night to be faced with another "the size of a coal-scuttle".

He seeks refuge with recently dumped lover Isabel who conveniently (and inconveniently) lives in the flat upstairs.

But Justus soon discovers he has fled the web of one predator, only to be caught in the web of a second.

Fine fun this one, as we witness the selfish, self-obsession of socialite journalist Justus brought to heel by dowdy Isabel.  I do wonder if the appearance of the name "Justice" at the foot of page 31 of my copy was actually a Freudian slip on the part of the author, rather than just a misprint.

For the yarn is more an exploration of sexual politics than any sort of horror story.  Or at least comes across as such, up until Justus' second and terminal encounter with the big spider. 

Indeed, I feel as a short story, this one would be improved immeasurably if shorn of those final three paragraphs.

THE BOOK

By Margaret Irwin

Mr. Corbett has recently inherited the book collection belonging to his late uncle.  After selling off most of the volumes, the few remaining he has placed in the large bookcase wherein resides not only his own extensive collection, but Mrs. Corbett’s “cheap red novels”, and those books belonging to his three children.

Finding himself unaccountably unable to glean any pleasure from his Dickens or Walter Pater, Corbett is drawn towards one of his uncle’s old books.  The pages in this one are written in Latin and, rather oddly, are pages which appear to continue writing themselves - dispensing first investment advice, then instructions to bump off members of the family.

An entertaining enough ghost story, with some malevolent spirit (possibly that of the recently departed uncle) up to no good.  Corbett’s incremental descent into madness is particularly well mapped out by the author, even if the dénouement is no real surprise.

A number of questions do remain naggingly unanswered by the end though:

Quite why The Book of the title has only just begun to exert its malevolent influence is not quite made clear unless, of course, it has only recently arrived in the bookcase.  Even so, exactly what its aim is in shuffling the books onto the second shelf so it can bring them “under the influence of (its) ancient and secret knowledge”, is never made clear.

Also – from where Corbett found the courage to thrust the book onto the fire at the climax of the narrative is a bit of a mystery.  Nothing in his character prior to this point in the story suggested he was even remotely capable of such a thing, as The Book previously appeared able to exert its will over Corbett quite successfully.  Indeed, up to the point of its immolation it appeared a remarkably dextrous tome, able to remotely influence the price of ivory on the open market both up and down.

BTW - here again was maenads being mentioned!


SOMETHING STRANGE
By Kingsley Amis

Four individuals – two male and two female – are on a remote space station doing space stuff.  To whit: taking undefined readings to send back to Base, and performing seemingly never-ending repairs on various pieces of apparatus.  

Bruno, one of the males who has the ability to “think well” has this nagging feeling something is not quite right.  And he is not referring to those hallucinations/mirages/visions which appear outside the space ship on a regular basis.

Although Kingsley Amis had dipped his toe into the realms of fantasy/horror on more than one occasion during his long career – most notably with his 1969 novel The Green Man – here he has a bash at Sci-Fi.

I enjoyed the tale up until the plot-convenient arrival of the revolutionary army soldiers.  Prior to this interruption, the yarn appeared to be exploring the sexual politics surrounding the two couples; how they were coping with the visions (the Something Strange of the title) and, most intriguingly, how they were going to deal with the fact Ground Control had just informed them that, due to budget cuts, they had been converted into a quartet of Major Toms.

But all of these potentially fascinating human interest aspects were swept to one side when the, what the author I assumes expected us to believe was the, shocking truth was revealed.  Instead the narrative just dribbles away.

I think we were to take it that whenever any of the four began to enquire too closely into what was actually going on, they were replaced – with the remaining three, through “some new form of deep-level hypnosis”, not noticing the switch.  If so, this would rather negate the point of the experiment, I should have thought.

And is the final scene a rape scene, with Myri having to be “had by” Bruno?  The very thing she had expressed distaste at, at the start of the story.


SATAN'S CIRCUS
By Lady Eleanor Smith

Anatole, a deserter from the French Foreign Legion, blags himself a job with The Circus Brandt whilst it is visiting Tangiers, in order to work his passage back to Europe.  He is understandably reluctant to follow the circus into France, but in his attempt to leave he makes a "dangerous enemy" of one of the circus owners; the sinister Mme. Brandt.

An easily digestible meal this one, after the hard to swallow previous offering.  Both of the main protagonists are well-written, with the tension between them at times tangible.  The question left for the reader to ponder at the conclusion is: was Mme. Brandt supernatural or just weird?  

The superstitious Carpathian peasants were certainly convinced of the former, with their barred doors and wreaths of garlic flowers.  And the antics of the circus animals whenever she came near also suggested so.  But in reality, there was little in the narrative to justify the fear and dread she appeared to instill in all she met.


THE PHOTOGRAPH
By Nigel Kneale

Because she feels he is on his Deathbed, Mamma has little Raymond tarted up in his best Sunday outfit and dragged across town to have his "photograph made".  The boy we learn, although seriously ill, was not actually at Death's door, although his doctor now expresses deep concern over what his enforced trip may have done to him.  

Never mind though, at least the boy has his photograph to look at.

Set I am guessing sometime during Victorian times, Mamma's keenness to have a photograph taken of a living Raymond whilst she feels she still can does not quite ring true.  Parents in those days, not wishing to risk spending unnecessary cash, often waited until the child was dead before getting the pic taken.  Post-mortem photographs regarded as rather in vogue back then, I believe.

But of course, had Mamma been rather more patient, there would have been no tale for Mr Kneale to tell.  And a rather fine one it is too, with a pleasingly ambiguous ending, to which I feel there are three potential sequelae:

1.  Some spirit or other has emerged from the photograph and taken over Raymond's body.
2.  Raymond's illness allied to the trauma of the trip to the photographer has driven him mad, with death sure to follow.
3.  Raymond's fever has caused him to hallucinate, and once he gets over this minor blip in his recovery, he shall go on to lead a long and happy life.

Given he is such a personable young chap, I know which I should like to believe.


THE BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS
By W. F. Harvey

Eustace Borlsover's Uncle Adrian is a remarkable chap.  For even though he is totally blind he can, with his right hand, write perfectly legible script.  Indeed, he can even do so without being conscious of the act.

When Uncle dies, Eustace is more than a little startled to learn he has been left the old man's right hand in his will, and it has been sent to him in a box.  But why can he hear something inside the package "kicking up a deuce of a row"?

The first few pages of the tale presents us with a deal of eminently readable background into the relationship between Eustace and his uncle, including a particularly memorable scene where the nephew interrogates his uncle's hand via its writing.  During this interchange we are vouchsafed a clue as to who/what may be inhabiting the hand.  To whit: the spirit of Eustace's uncle's own uncle.  If you follow. 

Once Mr. Hand pitches up at Eustace's home though, the tale takes on elements of a Wildean farce.  The reader is presented with images of the hand sliding down a bannister, strangling Eustace's pet parrot and (most surreally) allowing itself to be dried by an decidedly inattentive maid (she thought she was drying her own hand at the time).

The author quite wisely chose not to attempt to deal with any physiological trivia; such as how the hand without the presence of a functional circulatory system could keep its skin, nerve and muscle cells supplied with glucose and oxygen to sustain life.

There is however a slightly disorientating format to this yarn.  For although the narrator purports to be relating a tale told to him by Eustace's secretary (Saunders) some years after the event, the narrative relies upon insights into Eustace's thought processes which Saunders could not have been privy to.

There is a grim inevitability to the climax to the narrative, but even this scene fails to detract from the fact this is a most enjoyable piece.

AS GAY AS CHEESE
By Joan Aiken

Mr. Pol, who owns a barber shop in a small Cornish town, has a "portentious gift"; an ability to divine an individual's near future by the simple act of cutting their hair.

There is generally little of interest in the destinies of his local customers, but he is in for a shock when a bickering couple just arrived from London enter his shop.

I have previously read a number of Joan Aiken's short stores and enjoyed them all, but this one appears a remarkably lightweight affair.  Although I could easily be missing some too-subtle-for-me allegory hidden within the author's words.  

I did enjoy her description of the tourist couple's rocky relationship: "although the ice of their marriage seemed at the moment to be bearing, nevertheless there were frightening depths beneath and it was best not to loiter in doubtful spots".

I suppose what this tale is asking us to ponder is the moral dilemma faced by Mr Pol when he becomes aware of the tragedy which is about to unfold.  Should he keep quiet, or attempt to intervene in some way?

First published in 1956 I am fairly sure Aiken is using gay in its rather more innocent usage here, as the eccentric Mr. Pol also describes himself as being "as bright as a pearl" and, rather more oddly, "as close as a false tooth".


THE HOUND OF DEATH

By Agatha Christie

It is oft forgotten that, in addition to all those timeless whodunnits, Agatha Christie penned a number of short stories rooted in the supernatural.  The Last Seance (Pan2) is the most successful of the ones I have read, and The Gipsy, which appeared in the opening Fontana series volume is also rather good.  

But The Hound of Death is a bit of as duffer, I am afraid.  A real dog's dinner, in fact.

The opening few scenes do set up an intriguing little mystery, but once the character of Dr. Rose is introduced to the narrative, things go awry.

For, through a mixture of hypnotism, word association games and getting Sister Marie Angelique to ramble on by simply giving her a crystal to hold (any old crystal, I might add), Doc somehow pieces together the details of a complex Seven Sign ceremony (or something) which was (or will be) practiced by a civilisation from the far past (or possibly far future).

Not only does he successfully piece together how to wield the power associated with the business from all the gobbledygook, but also manages to call up some entity or other to fry his rich uncle, so he can inherit his fortune.

Unfortunately for Rose, he fails to "Close the Circle".  Consequently, whatever he had summoned pitches up at his cottage and casually tosses it into the sea, killing not only the doctor, but also the old nun.

What the heck did she do to deserve that?

JUDITH

By Hjalmar Bergman

A young soldier from an invading force billets himself at a tiny cottage owned by an old man and his young daughter.  Laid out inside the cottage is the recently deceased – killed in the fighting – corpse of the daughter’s husband.  The old man, understandably, refuses to “break bread with the enemy”.  But his daughter appears happy to ply the soldier with food and drink.  

Lots of drink.

Clearly based upon the Old Testament book of Judith this one.  But whereas in the biblical tale Judith beheads the enemy leader in order to save Israel, the more contemporary Judith’s motivation appears rather more personal.

The soldier, although aware the name Judith is from the bible, clearly had not read the actual story, otherwise alarm bells would have begun ringing pretty loudly.  It is clear the daughter decided to act out her revenge pretty much as soon as the young soldier entered the house, she taking up the name Judith solely at this point to perform the deed.  It is not her real name for, as she states to the soldier:

“For you my name is Judith.  To him (her husband) I had another name”

The author of this tale, Hjalmar Bergman, was a Swede and one assumes this is an English translation of the original, for much of the language is often rather stilted.  Bergman’s fondness for alcohol led to his early death.....not unlike the young soldier, when I think about it.

THE VICTIM

By May Sinclair

Dorsy is aware her fiance Steven has a bit of a short fuse.  But when she witnesses him beat her cousin to a pulp for a little light-hearted flirting, she begins to have serious doubts about getting hitched to a borderline psycho.

And, after a heart-to-heart chat with her employer Mr Greathead, she decides to break off the engagement.

Steven, incorrectly as it transpires, believes Greathead influenced Dorsy's decision, so strangles and dismembers the old man.  Due to his careful planning and execution of the deed, and subsequent careful disposal of the remains, Steven begins to believe he may have just committed the perfect murder.

But, a few months later, he sees a familiar grey-haired figure shuffling along in the street.

This was my first encounter with May Sinclair, and a most enjoyable first date it turned out to be, as the author deftly turned on its head all my preconceived notions of how this one one going to run.  I also loved the way she effortlessly shifted the power in the relationship from Steven to Dorsy (with, admittedly, a little bit of help).

The dialogue occasionally drifts towards borderline cliche North of England "Eee by Gum, there's trouble 't Mill" territory at times, which some readers may struggle with.  But, having roots in that part of the world myself, I found no difficulties following things.

Hugely entertaining, and I am rather opening mine and Ms. Sinclair's respective paths cross again at some point over the next dozen or so Fontana volumes.

THE HOUSE ON BIG FARAWAY

By Norman Matson

Big Faraway is a remote road on which Bunny Brooks and his sister Natalie have just finished renovating a long derelict farm house.

Natalie hears her brother talking to someone at the front door, but when she arrives there is no one to be seen.  Whilst Bunny insists an elderly woman had called, Natalie wonders if he had been imagining things.

So begins a train of events which leads to tragedy.

It takes (or, at least, it took me) a couple of readings of this one to finally suss out what had happened in the past, and what had just happened in the present.  And it was quite fun putting things together, rather like doing a jigsaw puzzle without the picture on the box lid.  

But the author's slightly quirky writing style rendered the quartet of main characters so beige, I would not really have cared had all four of them had copped it by the end. 

THE KILLING BOTTLE

By L.P. Hartley

Jimmy Rintoul is rather surprised to receive an invitation from Rollo Verdew, a casual aquantance, to spend a holiday at the family castle, with himself, Rollo's wife Vera and his brother Randolph.

Jimmy is initially reluctant, but decides a change from his usual holiday haunt, may ford the opportunity to add to his butterfly collection.  So he packs his nets and killing bottle.

The trio of Verdews turn out to be an eccentric bunch, none more so than brother Randolph who, in his own words hates, "cruelty more than anything else in the world".  Which makes it all the more peculiar when Randolph asks to see the killing bottle in action.

One could almost suggest this story is one best read backwards, for once the true aim of the invitation becomes apparent, it does make sense of a deal of the awkward conversations and apparently strange behaviour Jimmy encounters during his visit.

For all manner of clever and subtle clues within the text become apparent upon a second reading: the concern over the rabbit fur on the Daimler wheel, Randolph's scrapbook, and the latter being described as "cruel fond of animals", to name but three.

But the narrative sort of lost its way a bit in the final quarter, I felt.  First we had Jimmy's oh-so-convenient chance meeting with an elderly local, who helpfully (if not to say indiscreetly) filled in a large number of the clues.

The there was Jimmy's farcical breaking through the plaster of his bedroom ceiling to escape the avenging Randolph.  

Before a jumbled race across the rooftops, where I eventually, after repeated reading, gave up trying to work out the muddled geography of what was going on.  Although the fact Hartley tossed into the mix such arcane-isms as "buttery hatch", "quatrefoil" and "soot-doors" didn't help me one bit.