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‘I mean the Doctor.’
‘Oh!’ Wilf snarled sweetly.
Areta had joined the other two customers while her father was once more behind the bar. Wilf joined Victor at the bar.
‘Can I get you anythink?’ King Victor asked Wilf.
‘No. No thank you, Victor. I’m off it at the moment. The hard stuff, that is. The vet says it’s best if I keep off it for a few more days. I’ve got a touch of hard pad.’ He showed Victor the sole of his left foot. ‘That’s why I’m limping a bit.’ He put his hind foot gingerly back on the floor.
‘I vould think you get the hard pad from all the runnink you do, ya?’
‘Never stop. I’m always running,’ Wilf said proudly, turning and leaning his back on the bar.
‘Ya, you run a lot, Vilf.’
‘I’m always running. Well, you see, farmers are always after me for frightening their sheep and enraged parents and all that, and bears and the like. Bears don’t like us much so they chase us a lot. Parents, farmers, bears … That’s why I do a lot of running, you see. I’ll tell you what …’
‘Vot?’
‘If you were to throw a stick now, across this floor to the other side of the room, I’d run after it. It’s our nature, you see.’
‘Vould you also brink it back?’
‘Sometimes, but sometimes I forget.’ Wilf looked around the tavern once more. ‘Mind you, I don’t run so much when I’m not a werewolf. When I’m an ordinary human being I like to sit at home with my legs up. I rest because I know that as soon as the full moon comes up again I go to bed and in about ten or twenty minutes or so I look down at the back of my hands and the hairs are starting to grow.’
‘Vot do you do then?’ Victor asked with keen interest.
‘Well, I get up and go on to the landing and shout through my mum’s door, “The hairs are growing Mum, so I’ll be off now and I’ll see you in about a week or ten days” and she shouts back something like, “All right, love. Be a good boy and bring back a fresh loaf with you” so then I’m off again, running.’
Wilf finished talking and noticed that everybody in the tavern was listening to him. This made him feel quite important.
Victor nodded agreement all through Wilf’s conversation. He turned to Grabbo saying, ‘I’ll haff one for the road, Grabbo. I’ll haff half a forty year olt.’ Turning back to Wilf he said:
‘I mustn’t haff anythink too stronk at the moment. I’m meeting the vife later on ant takink her out for a bite.’
‘Where?’ asked Wilf with enough interest in his voice to make Victor think, ‘He vants to come too.’
‘Er, vell, it’s more off a small family get-together than anythink else. Just the vife, Vernon, me and Valentine, if he’s any better. Ve vill propaply go and vait at the bridle path ant see if there is anythink vorth bitink.’
Victor was trying to get away quickly. ‘Oh, gutt Lord, is that the time? I tolt the vife I vould pick her up at twelf thirty.’
‘Is that the time she falls down?’ Wilf asked.
‘Pardon me?’ said a puzzled Victor.
‘You said you would pick her up at twelve thirty, so I was asking you if that was the time she fell down … Twelve thirty?’
‘Vilf, I haff never unterstood your jokes ant I still don’t. Guttbye Vilf,’ Victor said, patting Wilf on the head and giving him a tickle under the chin. Wilf showed his approval by licking Victor’s ear.
Victor left the tavern the same way as he had arrived – by the window. Areta went to close the window after him, thinking, ‘He’s just like all men. Never closes anything after him.’
Grabbo started to clean the glasses and whistled a late night tune. The tune was very popular in Gotcha at the moment. It was called ‘Show me the way to my cottage and my bed’. He hoped Wilf and the other two customers might take the hint and realise how late it was. But Wilf was in a talking mood that night.
‘Nice man, Victor, eh Grabbo?’
‘Charming,’ Grabbo said, oozing sarcasm that went straight over Wilf’s head. Wilf was quiet for a few seconds and then asked:
‘I don’t suppose you have anybody fresh in the cold cellar have you Grabbo?’
‘No,’ said Grabbo truthfully while putting the forty year old away.
‘It’s just that I fancy somebody fresh, that’s all.’
‘You heard what my father said, Wilf,’ Areta said, bustling around and clearing the table of the two customers who took the hint and left without saying goodnight to anyone.
‘Well, have you got any crisps then?’ Wilf asked.
‘What flavour?’ Grabbo asked with a tired voice.
After a moment’s thought Wilf said, ‘Human please.’
Grabbo threw him a pack of crisps saying, ‘Smokey bacon, take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll take it,’ Wilf said, his lips and teeth tearing open the packet.
‘That will be three lukas.’
‘What?’ Wilf asked, spraying crisps all over the bar.
‘That will be three lukas. Are you going deaf, Wilf?’
‘I haven’t got three lukas. As a matter of fact I haven’t got any money at all.’
‘No money? No money at all?’ Grabbo said, looking at his daughter.
‘No. You see, when I’m a werewolf I haven’t any pockets so I can’t carry any money.’
‘All right, Wilf,’ Grabbo said in a bored and tired voice. ‘You owe me three lukas.’
‘Thanks Grabbo.’
‘That’s O.K. Now take your crisps and go.’
‘Yes. Well goodnight then, Grabbo, and goodnight Areta. By the way, Areta, I’m not a werewolf next week so I was wondering if you would come to the fair with me a week on Thursday?’
‘Goodnight Wilf,’ Areta said softly.
‘Goodnight Areta,’ Wilf said sadly.
CHAPTER 3
A Vampire family on the street;
A Werewolf with only crisps to eat.
Valentine suddenly stopped Igon by putting his hand out. The Doctor and the servant behind nearly bumped into them. Since they had left Valentine’s room the four had been walking along seemingly endless corridors. Now Valentine had spotted the motif of a bat biting the throat of another bat on a door. He turned to his new friends and nodded.
Slowly he opened the door and they all looked into a very large, beautifully furnished room. Even the coffin in the middle of the room was made from Japanese walnut and highly polished. The handles of the coffin were gold, as was a massive candelabra holding twelve sixteen-inch lighted candles on a round, exquisitely-made satinwood table.
‘Hello, Mum,’ Valentine smiled, directing the other five eyes to the coffin. ‘Mum?’ he called, ‘are you in there?’
Queen Valeeta’s head rose slowly out of the opened coffin. She saw Valentine and smiled.
‘Darling. My darling boy,’ she breathed heavily. ‘Give me a hand, there’s a good boy. It’s time I rose. I have to meet your father. He’s taking us out tonight. You, too, Valentine, if you are well enough.’
Valentine helped his mother out of the coffin. She stood on the floor and swayed for a moment, then quickly composed herself. She took three or four deep breaths then looked at Igon, Doctor Plump and the servant. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at Valentine which asked what these people were doing in her room. She was a strikingly beautiful woman and at the moment was striking Igon beautifully over the head with a lighted candle.
‘Who are these people?’ she hissed.
‘They are my friends,’ Valentine said. ‘Doctor Plump, Ronnoco Sed and Igon, who you have known since being a little girl.’
‘I’ve never been a little girl,’ Igon protested. Ronnoco Sed and Doctor Plump both hit him at the same time.
Vernon suddenly joined them in the room. He didn’t come in through the door. He didn’t come in through the window. He just appeared in the middle of the room behind a flash of bright blue smoke.
They all looked at Vernon, with a surprised look on their faces, including Vernon himself. This was the first time he had done the trick right. He had transported himself from the cellars up into his mother’s room.
He stood there, in the middle of the room, dazed and slightly on fire, trying to put himself out by patting himself hard and blowing on himself even harder. He was having little success. At the moment he was smouldering like an old bonfire.
Igon was the first to come to his senses. He picked up a pitcher of water and threw it at Vernon but, sadly, he let go of the pitcher too and it landed slap-bang on the back of Vernon’s head.
The pitcher broke on impact, covering him with water and therefore putting out the fire. It also put Vernon out, cold. The Doctor fainted on top of an already fainted Ronnoco Sed for the second time that evening.
Valentine could hardly hold back a smile while his mother laughed out loud and applauded. Igon knew he was in for it as soon as Vernon came round, so he tried to climb up the chimney.
Igon was a very lucky warped old man that night for, just as Vernon came to his senses and was just beginning to think of knocking the already minute senses completely out of Igon, Victor came into the room through the window. In this household Victor was the King. His word was law.
He looked at his family and the Doctor and the servant and then at Igon scrambling about in the fireplace among the ashes.
‘Igon,’ he hissed. ‘Vot are you doink? Are you arrivink or are you goink, ya?’
Vernon suddenly spoke. ‘He hit me, father. That stupid, stunted swine hit me. He hit me with a pitcher.’ Vernon, his eyes glowing with rage, glared at poor Igon but Victor’s satanic eyes slowly turned towards Vernon and Vernon knew he made a bad mistake in interrupting his father. Quickly and sullenly he murmured an apology. The King hissed softly in a voice filled with venom:
‘Since ven has it been permissible to interrupt your father?’ He hit Vernon with the flat of his hand across the cheek, leaving a blue mark across his white face. ‘Ant since ven,’ he continued, ‘has it been permissible to interrupt the Kink?’
Once again he slapped Vernon across the other cheek, leaving another blue mark that matched the first one. Vernon’s eyes, blood-red with anger, looked steadily at his father. Valentine looked at the ground while Valeeta looked at her husband, her eyes filled with pride and love. Doctor Plump and Ronnoco Sed slept soundly on in their faint.
Igon had stopped scrambling in the ashes and was now trying to cover himself with logs.
‘Igon, mine little filty frent. Come here,’ Victor commanded.
Igon did as he was told and came to Victor, expecting another powerful blow about his head. Victor put his hand out to rest gently on top of Igon’s head, saying:
‘Igon, you are the most beautiful ugly think I haff ever seen, ant I’ve seen a few ugly thinks in mine time. But I haff never seen anythink quite as beautifully ugly as you.’
Igon gave Victor the kind of look an obedient dog gives its master. Victor then playfully kicked Igon to the other side of the room and as Igon rolled over and over, the only thing he could hear was a deep-throated laugh coming from the direction of Victor, King of the Vampires. As Igon rolled to a stop, Victor continued to speak.
‘Vell, mine beloved family. Tonight ve vill go out together. How gutt it is to see you lookink so vell, Valentine.’
The Doctor stirred.
‘Ah, Doctor. I’m glat to see you. I’m thankink you for curink mine son, Valentine, from the vapours. You see, I knew you could do it.’
The Doctor, who was still not quite himself, got shakily to his feet. Valentine spoke before the Doctor could say anything.
‘Yes, Father. The Doctor was very good and also very quick. He found out the cause and the cure too.’
‘Vot was the cause?’
‘Er … too much blood, Father. I’ve been drinking too much blood,’ Valentine lied, looking sideways at the Doctor, hoping he wouldn’t be fool enough to say something else.
‘Ant the cure?’ Victor asked his son.
‘Blood oranges.’
‘Blood oranges?’
‘Yes Father. From now on I have only to eat blood oranges. Isn’t that correct, Doctor?’
Doctor Plump half smiled and half nodded.
‘The Doctor said that blood oranges would be better than real blood if I want to stay cured of the dreaded Vampire vapours, and you know how contagious they are, Father.’
‘Blood oranges are contagious?’ asked his Father.
‘No Father, the vapours are contagious,’ Valentine corrected.
‘I see,’ said Victor, almost to himself. ‘Vell, iff you haff to haff blood oranges, then blood oranges it vill be.’ He looked at his wife, who knowing Valentine’s feelings about blood, nodded her head in agreement.
‘But I’m tellink you this, mine son. Blood oranges vill eventually rot your teeth. Come everyvon. Ve vill all go into the village to celebrate Valentine’s recovery.’ He led the way to the window.
Valentine didn’t want to go out of the window and neither did the Doctor. Nor would Ronnoco Sed when he came round.
‘Er … Father.’
‘Yes, mine son.’
‘Maybe I should take the others out by the front door.’
