Was it Halloween that night? It must have been somewhere around that time as I remember tissue paper leaves blowing in rustling drifts through the lavatory door and apples rolling under our feet as we crunched our way down the twisting paths of my grandma’s rose garden to our nightly ablutions.

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There were five of us, my younger sister and three cousins ranging in ages from 4 – 10 years. It was the late fifties and our isolated farm was yet to benefit from the mains sewage system, hence the nightly trek to the “lavvy” tucked discreetly amongst the roses.

There was no light, we were given candles in jam jars and while we waited for our turn on the “baby bear” seat which was the lower, middle one of the three holes at our disposal, we would swing the jars and make towering shadows leap up the walls and across the ceiling.

When we grew bored we would gather leaves into a pile and set fire to them, hurriedly stamping out the flames before the smoke forced us out into the cold air. Then sometimes, we would play “dare.”

It was always the idea of my eldest cousin who revelled in an abuse of power. This time, from the lofty advantage of the “daddy bear” seat, with his shorts and braces looped around his ankles, he recounted the terrifying tale of the blue faced hag that roamed the woods and fields at night, luring children to her cave where she would kill and eat them!

Many years later, I came to realise that he had got hold of the tale of Black Annis, who was supposed to roam the Dane Hills around Leicester, but that far away time of which I’m writing, she was a nameless witch that regularly prowled our farm looking for tender young flesh!

The dare was to mark a candle and stay behind in the lavvy until it had burnt down to the notch in the wax! Selecting the victim involved a series of counting out games. Eeeny, meeny, miney, mo, Rock, Paper, Scissors, Ip, Dip, One potato, two potato and finally drawing straws.

The reason we had to go through such a lengthy process was because my despotic cousin, had all ready selected his victim, he just needed to manipulate the democratic process to his advantage!

That night I drew the short straw, literally! Standing alone in the now silent lavvy, every hair on my body stood on end! The shadows, earlier things of fun, now loomed in great black, shifting arches that slid over walls and flickered across the floor like twisting limbs seeking to grab and clutch.

I looked at the candle. It flared and guttered in a sudden draft and the distance it had to burn seemed as great as ever! Suddenly my cousin’s cruel teasing seemed infinitely preferable to staying even a second longer in the deserted lavvy!

It should have been even more scary outside, after all, wasn’t the blue-faced hag out there ready to sink her fangs into childish flesh? Strangely enough, once in the garden, some of my fear left me. I remember looking at the sky, shot with stars and a thin moon rising. It looked so clean and clear and pure even though my cousin had told me that the stars were the eyes of the dead, spying through the window of heaven and deciding who would be joining them next!

From somewhere far away I heard a dog howl and then one of the farm cats jumped onto the garden wall. It was black, the one my grandma called Imp. Suddenly I had the urge to laugh and couldn’t get back into the house quick enough.

“Guess what?” I said to my cousin. “Somebody’s going to die tonight!”

“Yeah,” he sneered. “Who sez?”

“Imp,” I said. “and I heard Moss howling at the moon.” The others looked impressed, he looked doubtful. That meant a lot to me so I went for the jugular.

“Better cross your fingers,” I said gleefully, “because it’s you!”

It wasn’t of course, but that look of sheer terror that flashed across his face still gives me a wicked feeling of satisfaction fifty years later!