The Little Vampire

  “You see,” he explained, “you kept going on at me to bring Rudolph home. But Rudolph didn’t want to come, so I asked Nigel instead. By the way,” he added as an afterthought, “I really didn’t know that Nigel’s surname was Appleby.”

  “Why didn’t Rudolph want to come?” asked his mother.

  “Because he always stays up so late, so he’s sleepy, and also he doesn’t like cake. He’s a bit funny.”

  His mother laughed. “That doesn’t matter. I enjoy meeting strange people. And if he doesn’t want to eat anything, he needn’t.”

  “He’d be embarrassed,” said Tony. “And also, he stinks.”

  At this, even his father laughed. “You certainly know how to pick your friends!” he said.

  “He doesn’t really know how to behave,” continued Tony.

  “That doesn’t matter either,” remarked his mother. “What really counts in a person is their heart, and I’m sure your Rudolph has a good heart, Tony.”

  Tony blanched. “A good heart? What do you mean?” he said. Had Mum guessed what Rudolph was like?

  But her face was all smiles. “I mean, he’s someone you can rely on,” she explained. “Someone who won’t leave you in the lurch.”

  “Oh, er, yes.” Tony was very relieved.

  “If you like him,” continued his mother, “I think we would like him too.”

  “Do you think so?” Tony sounded doubtful. “Do you like vampires then?”

  “You’re not starting that vampire craze again, are you?” laughed father.

  His mother looked cross. “I don’t think it’s very funny,” she said.

  Dad laughed even more loudly. “So when do we get to meet this famous vampire of yours?” he asked.

  “Um – I’ll have to ask him,” said Tony. “Next week, perhaps?” He suddenly felt exhausted, and longed to be able to creep into bed.

  “I should keep your window shut,” called his mother as he reached the door. “There have been the most enormous moths flying around in the last few weeks.”

  “O.K., O.K.,” said Tony, turning round quickly so his parents would not see his smile. “Good night.”

  Prying Parents

  “YOU HAVEN’T BEEN VERY wide awake today, have you?” remarked Tony’s father the following evening. They were sitting on the sofa waiting for the beginning of a wildlife documentary on television.

  Tony yawned. “I think I’ll go to bed,” he said.

  “Your ‘walk’ yesterday must have tired you out!” teased his father.

  “Actually, it was my maths homework,” corrected Tony. Whoever said schooldays were the happiest days of your life?

  “Could you do it all?” asked his mother.

  “Of course,” replied Tony.

  At that moment the telephone rang. Tony’s father picked up the receiver. “Peasbody here,” he said in his special telephone-voice. Then a puzzled look came over his face. “Who did you want to speak to? Are you sure you’ve got the right number? Hold on a moment.” He covered the receiver with his hand. “It’s some crazy girl,” he whispered. “I can hardly understand what she’s saying. She hisses. Is it some kid at your school?”

  “Can’t be,” said Tony’s mother, hurriedly taking the receiver from him. “It’s Mrs. Peasbody. Who’s speaking please? Who? You want to talk to Tony?” Her forehead wrinkled in disbelief. “It’s for you,” she whispered.

  “Who is it?” asked Tony’s father.

  Mum shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve no idea. She spoke as if she had her hand over her mouth.”

  By this time, Tony had the receiver in his hand. “Hello?” he said. A soft giggle came from the other end. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Anna!” came the answer, soft and squeaky, but quite clearly.

  Tony went pale. “Y-you?” he stammered. This was a fine kettle of fish! To make matters worse, he had a parent on either side of him, listening to every word.

  “Who is it?” demanded his father.

  “Anna.” It was an unwilling reply.

  “What does she want?” hissed his mother.

  “I don’t know,” said Tony through clenched teeth. “I haven’t had a chance to find out!”

  “Are you still mad at me?” Anna was asking. “About yesterday? Because I know I ...”

  “No, no, of course not,” Tony reassured her hurriedly.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said.

  “A surprise?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his parents exchange a meaningful look. “What sort of surprise?” he asked.

  “A story,” she said. “A real vampire love story.” At these last words, she was so overcome with giggles that Tony could hardly hear her. “Can I come around and read it to you this evening?”

  “Er, no, not this evening. Tomorrow perhaps.”

  “O.K. Tomorrow. What time?”

  Tony glanced at his parents and thought for a moment. “My grandmother has nine clocks,” he said, and was pleased to see the look of complete bewilderment which passed between them. Serve them right for eavesdropping!

  Luckily Anna had understood. “At nine o’clock. O.K.”

  “What’s Rudolph doing?”

  “He’s already gone,” explained Anna. “He was starving.”

  “Oh, I see.” As always when the vampires’ eating habits were mentioned, Tony felt rather sick. “Well, say hi to him for me,” he said at a loss for words. Why did his parents have to stand so close to him? Why couldn’t they go into the kitchen for a while?

  “’Bye then,” he said.

  “See you tomorrow,” said Anna, and hung up.

  “What’s this? Finished already?” said Dad in mock astonishment.

  “Yes,” growled Tony.

  “What was that you said about Gran having nine clocks?” asked his mother.

  “Oh, just a joke.”

  “Why didn’t you invite Anna round when Rudolph comes?” his father wanted to know.

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  “What about Rudolph?” asked his mother. “Have you fixed a day yet?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him.”

  “Doesn’t he go to school?”

  Tony had to laugh. “No,” he said.

  “Oh?” His mother was very surprised.

  “He has a ... tutor,” said Tony. He had read somewhere that you could have a tutor instead of going to school.

  “Good gracious! Is he ill?” asked his mother.

  “No, not exactly. But he sleeps too late to go to school.”

  His mother shook her head incredulously. “What some kids get away with!” she said.

  “I agree,” said Dad with a smile. “Quite astonishing.”

  “I’m glad you think so!” said Tony crossly, and went out, slamming the door behind him. First they eavesdropped, then they interrogated him, and now they laughed at him! No wonder he was cross!

  Rendezvous in Pyjamas

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING, TONY was ready for bed unusually early. He had already had a wash and was in his ­pyjamas at half past seven.

  “You’re not going to bed already, are you?” His mother was astonished.

  “I want to read,” explained Tony.

  “All right. But lights out at eight, remember?”

  “O.K. Good night.”

  Once in his room, Tony half-closed the curtains. It was still so light that he did not need to turn on the lamp. He took down his new book, Tales of the Otherworld, from his shelf, climbed into bed, and began to read. The first story suited his mood exactly: it was about two boys who went to a lonely inn one night and ...

  Soft footsteps crossed the hall, and Tony jerked upright in fright. Then he remembered it was only his mother coming to see if he was still reading, and he quickly hid the book under his pillow and pretended to be asleep. The door opened quietly and closed again almost immediately. The footsteps went back across the hall. That meant he could relax and forget about his parents, because they thought he was asleep. He s
ettled himself comfortably once more, and switched on the light, then pulled out his book and searched for the right page.

  A sudden tapping on the window made him jump. Outside, it was almost dark, so he could only see a faint shadow. He put down the book and went to the window. There on the sill sat Anna. Tony pushed the curtain to one side and opened the window.

  “Hi, Tony,” said Anna, slipping into the room as noiselessly as a cat.

  “Hello,” replied Tony, feeling himself blush. It was just as well it was dark.

  “Do I smell nice?” she asked happily, beaming at him.

  “Oh, er, yes,” murmured Tony. What else could he say? She would not be pleased if he said she smelt of a mixture of dead leaves, moth balls, and mildew!

  “It’s my special perfume,” she explained. “It’s called Fragrant Earth.”

  “I’ve never heard of that before,” said Tony.

  “That’s not surprising,” Anna said proudly. “My mother makes it herself. It’s only for vampires.” With these words she came up close to Tony and bared her neck. “Can you smell it? Isn’t it devilishly delicious?”

  “Mmm,” said Tony evasively. He had seldom smelt anything quite so revolting in his life. “It’s ... er, very powerful.”

  “Isn’t it?” she agreed. “We’re only allowed to wear it on very special occasions.”

  “It reminds me of onions,” went on Tony, whose eyes were beginning to water.

  “Its main ingredient is onions,” said Anna. “Then you mix in a bit of deadly nightshade, and some cow dung.”

  “Ugh!” Tony could not stop himself.

  Anna looked hurt. “I thought you liked it,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, I do,” said Tony quickly. “It’s just a bit unusual.”

  “Shell we put on some music?” suggested Anna, changing the subject.

  Tony looked nervously at the door. “Better not,” he said. “Mum and Dad think I’m asleep.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Then she brightened. “Never mind. I’ve brought you something to read. A real vampire love story.” She reached under her cloak and drew out a bundle of yellowing pages, which she smoothed flat carefully. Tony noticed they were covered with a round, childish handwriting.

  “Did you write it?” he asked.

  Anna looked embarrassed. “Yes,” she admitted, and began to read. “Once upon a time there was a King and Queen who longed to have a child – but in vain. However, one day the Queen was bathing in a pool, and it so happened that a frog hopped out of the water onto the bank and said: ‘Your wish will come true.’ And sure enough, before a year had passed, the Queen gave birth to a baby boy. The joyful parents decided to have a feast to celebrate. As well as all their friends and relations, they invited the fairies to bring their son luck. However, there were thirteen fairies in the kingdom, and the Queen only had twelve golden plates, so one fairy did not receive an invitation. The feast was the most magnificent anyone could remember, and at the end, each fairy gave the child a gift: one blessed him with health, one with intelligence, another with good looks, and so on, until eleven had given him their blessing. At that moment the thirteenth fairy, the one who had not been invited, burst into the hall and cackled: ‘This is my gift! When he is fifteen, your son will prick his finger on a spindle and fall down dead!’ Luckily, the twelfth fairy had not given her gift, and although she could not take away the spell completely, she was able to lessen its effect. ‘He will not die,’ she said, ‘but will fall into a deep sleep which will last for a hundred years.’”

  “Oh?” said Tony. “A hundred years?” The story was becoming familiar!

  “The King decided to protect his son from this fate and so he gave the order that every spindle in the kingdom should be burned. It so happened that, on the prince’s fifteenth birthday, the King and Queen were away from the palace. The boy decided to explore, and found himself at the foot of an old turret. He climbed the narrow staircase and reached a tiny door at the top. In the lock was a rusty key, and as he turned it, the door sprang open and there, in a little room, sat an old woman spinning flax. ‘What is that, bobbing up and down?’ asked the prince. He took the spindle to see for himself, and at once the magic spell was fulfilled: he pricked his finger and fell on the nearby bed in a deep sleep. At that moment, everyone else in the palace was overcome by the same sleep. The King and Queen had just arrived home, and they fell asleep. The entire court fell asleep. Even the horses in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the rooftop and the flies on the walls, everything slept.

  “A hedge of thorns grew up around the castle, growing higher every year so that eventually nothing could be seen of the palace behind it. Tales of the handsome young prince were spread abroad in the land, and from time to time, princesses came to try to break through the hedge. They were never successful, however, for the thorn branches were twisted together like linked hands, and the princesses caught fast and died a terrible death. At last, after many years, a certain princess happened to come to that part of the country. An old man told her the story of the castle behind the wall of thorns, and the princess declared: ‘I’m not afraid! I shall try to reach this handsome prince!’ What the old man did not realise was that this particular princess was in fact a vampire. She turned herself into a bat and flew over the hedge. Once in the courtyard of the castle, she saw the dogs and hor­ses lying fast asleep, and venturing further inside, she found the entire court sleeping as well. Finally she came to the tower with the little room where the King’s son lay. He was so handsome that she could not take her eyes off him, and she bent down and gave him a vampire kiss. He stirred and opened his eyes and looked at her happily. It did not take long before he was a vampire too, and the pair of them lived happily ever after.”

  “I know that story,” said Tony. “It’s the same as ‘Sleeping Beauty.’”

  “My version’s better, though!” laughed Anna.

  “You forgot the court,” reproached Tony, “and the King and Queen. Did they turn into vampires as well?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” said Anna. “I wanted to ask you about it. You don’t think that would make it too grisly?”

  “Why should it?” asked Tony. “After all, no one believes these tales of vampires nowadays ...”

  “What?” said Anna furiously. “No one believes in vampires? What about you? Don’t you believe in us?”

  “Oh, er, yes, I do, of course,” Tony reassured her hurriedly. “But everyone else ...”

  “Everyone else? I thought everyone was frightened of us.”

  “Sorry.” Tony shook his head. “Last week, for instance, we had to write a composition. The title was ‘A Terrifying Experience.’ I went up to our teacher and asked her whether we were allowed to write about vampires, and she just laughed. ‘Vampires?’ she said, loud enough for the whole class to hear. ‘Vampires belong to fairy tales, Tony. No, now you are in the third form, you must write about something that really happened.’”

  “What an old goat!” snorted Anna. “What did you write about in the end?”

  “Something I saw on the television once.”

  “Did she notice?”

  “No, she thought it was quite lively and realistic, and gave me five out of ten.”

  “Huh!” said Anna. “You’d have got ten out of ten for a vampire story! What about your parents? Don’t they believe in us?”

  Tony shook his head. “They least of all. But they would like to meet you. You’ve been invited to tea.”

  “Really?” Anna’s face lit up. “At last I’ll be able to meet your parents, Tony!” She clapped her hands and gave a little jump. “Are they as nice as you?”

  “Er, I suppose so.” Tony was embarrassed.

  “When can we come?”

  “Next Wednesday?” suggested Tony. It was the first day that came into his head. “Do you think Rudolph will come too?”

  “I’ll ask him at once,” she said, and jumped up onto the window-sill. “Bye then
– see you on Wednesday.”

  “W-wait a minute,” stuttered Tony. “Are you really going to come?”

  “You bet!” she smiled, and vanished.

  Final Preparations

  “Come on, Tony,” said his mother the following Wednesday. “Help me whip this cream.”

  “It’s much too early still,” protested Tony.

  “Nonsense! It’s almost five o’clock.”

  “That makes no difference. They always have an afternoon rest.”

  His mother gave him a searching look. “I’m sure even you don’t really believe that.”

  “Yes, I promise it’s true. It’s good for their health.” What a business it all was! He did not think vampires ever got up before sunset, and that would mean they might not arrive until eight o’clock! And Mum was already putting the kettle on and heating the milk for the cocoa!

  “Er, Mum,” began Tony. “I think I ought to explain, er, they might not come until eight o’clock.”

  “Come on now, Tony,” said his mother. “It’s almost your bedtime at eight.”

  “I know,” replied Tony.

  “Well – don’t Rudolph and Anna have to go to bed as well?”

  “No,” said Tony, trying not to laugh.

  “Funny way to bring up kids,” grumbled his mother. “What’s going to happen to all the tea?” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the kettle and the pan of milk. “Everything’s nearly ready.”

  “We could have our tea now, and then have some apple juice later on,” suggested Tony.

  “What about getting up for school tomorrow morning?”

  “Oh, come on, Mum, just this once,” pleaded Tony.

  “Well, all right,” she conceded. “But I’m not at all pleased, and I’m only saying yes because I’m dying to meet these strange friends of yours.”

  Tony gave a quiet sigh of relief.

  “What about all these cakes?” she went on.

  “I’ll eat them,” offered Tony. His mother had bought cream buns again, and this time there were eight of them! At least it would make up for the last time, when Nigel had scoffed the lot, and he had not had any.