Reading between the lines of his story, she was pretty sure Theo and Lucinda had been lovers. He'd let slip the word "affair". With luck, William hadn't twigged exactly what that meant, though her brother didn't usually miss much.
Theo had resisted his normal vampirish urges with Lucinda. No bloodsucking at all. How had he managed to do that? Why had he done that?
Had vampire Theo really fallen in love with a human female? Because of her courage? The whole thing sounded very strange. But then, Theo was strange. Uncanny, even. It sort of went with the territory.
Sylvie still couldn't get her head round the fact that she'd just spent an hour or so with a real live vampire.
Actually, no—with a real undead vampire.
She swallowed a nervous laugh. What was happening to her?
She looked down at William, trotting along beside her. And silent. Her brother was real. He was part of all this. So Theo must be real, too.
Poor Theo. He certainly still loved Lucinda, even though she must have been dead for at least fifty years by now. How sad was that? Crazy, too. But then, how could Sylvie tell what was crazy in a vampire's world? Vampires lived for ever, didn't they, unless someone put a stake through their heart? Maybe time was different if you knew you were never going to die.
Little Piddling had to be Theo's very last link to Lucinda. Was that why he'd decided to come here? To be close to the woman he'd loved and lost? It seemed the only possible explanation. But Sylvie knew that was not something that Theo would discuss with her. Or with anyone, probably.
She parked that thought. She had a more urgent problem—her meeting with Karl, earlier. She still had to decide what to do about him. She'd been mega impressed by his vampire act, with the cool gear and the film-star looks and the smooth manners. His kissing wasn't an act, though. It was the real deal. It turned her knees to water.
None of her other boyfriends had kissed like Karl, but they'd all been much the same age as Sylvie. Whereas Karl was old enough to have been around. He knew all the famous actors in London. He even told stories about some of them. And he'd turned heads as soon as he appeared in Little Piddling. All Sylvie's friends fancied him rotten, but she'd been the one to pull him. He'd said she was the only girl in the place worth looking at.
She sighed again. It was all so difficult and she couldn't quite make up her mind about going to Whitby. She was very tempted. And she did like the kissing. But when he did his know-all, patronising bit, it made her want to kick him where it hurt. Next time, she might do it. It would serve him right.
She could see that one day she would have to dump him. And she would. Eventually.
Once she'd had a lot more of the kissing.
Chapter Eight
Thursday night was my turn for the beach hut, so I wasn't expecting visitors. But then I saw that William was back again, racing across the sand to Number 23a. I was going to have to discourage him from doing his midnight stunt quite so regularly. A boy of his age needed his sleep. Without it, he might get ill and I didn't want to be responsible for that. Perhaps I could get Sylvie to have a word in his ear?
"Theo. Theo! I've seen the other vampire again." William was panting so much he could hardly get his words out.
"Doing his bat thing again, was he?" I said calmly, leaning nonchalantly against the beach hut. I wasn't about to go haring off after a fellow vampire who might not even exist. Besides, William needed time to catch his breath.
"No. No bats this time. But it was him."
"Are you sure?"
"Come on, Theo. It must have been the one I saw before. Can't be three vampires in piddling Little Piddling."
He did logic pretty well, for eight.
"Hmm. I suppose… Anyway, did you see his face this time?"
"Nope. Same problem. Big swirly cloak. Hat. Didn't want to get too close."
"Very sensible." If he had sighted another vampire, he needed to be careful. He'd made a friend of one, but two would be pushing his luck. "What was your other vampire doing, this time?"
"He was with a woman."
"Was he, now?" Was it significant that he'd said "woman" and not "girl"? Possibly. "And what were they doing, the vampire and this woman?"
"Um." William reddened a bit. "All that lovey-dovey stuff. You know?"
"I—er—I know." I paused. Discussing sex with a child can be difficult. "Are you sure it was only the lovey-dovey stuff? He wasn't taking a little blood on the side?"
"Oh. Um. I'm not sure. I suppose he could have been. He was—um—all over her."
I laughed. "We vampires don't generally do 'all over', William. We're rather partial to necks. Easiest access, you know?" He'd gone a tiny bit green, suddenly, but I didn't comment on that. "Any idea who the woman was?"
"Never seen her before. I think you'd have said she was quite a looker. Tall, thin—well, no, actually she was sort of rounded in places." He made a crude cupping gesture with both hands, something he'd probably copied from much older boys.
I let that pass. He was already embarrassed enough. "Colouring?"
"Light brown hair. Or maybe fair. Couldn't see very well 'cos the light was bad. Quite a lot of hair, anyway."
"Eyes?"
"Wasn't close enough to see."
"Did they just stand there, doing their lovey-dovey bit?"
"No, actually. After a while, she took his hand and led him off."
"Any idea where to?"
"Dunno. Didn't dare to follow. They'd have seen me. To her place, maybe? Or his? He'll have a coffin about somewhere, won't he?"
"Possibly. But if she was doing the leading, they wouldn't be going there, I'd have thought."
He nodded.
As I said, he was good on logic, my young friend William.
"So what are we going to do now? Shouldn't we go out and hunt for them?" William was breathing normally now and very much up for the chase. Of course, he hadn't a clue what chasing a vampire might entail. Nor how dangerous it would be for a vulnerable human like him.
"You don't know where they went, William, so we'd have very little to go on." He looked so disappointed that, against my better judgement, I gave in and said, "But why don't you show me where you saw them? Maybe we might find some clues about who he is. Or even who his woman is."
"Oh, yes. I've got my torch so we can scour the ground for evidence." He took hold of my arm and tugged. "Come on. This way. Before the trail goes cold."
There wouldn't be a trail. I was absolutely sure of that. But I went anyway.
"I'm intrigued, William," I said as we walked briskly along the beach. "How do you recognise your vampires? I mean, you got it bang on with me, but what about the other one?"
"Well, the swirly cloak helps." He reached out and lifted one of the folds of mine before letting it drop again.
He seemed to be assuming that vampires always wore the classic gear. But we don't. Some vampires never wear it at all; and most of us like to ring the changes. In Paris, for example, I'd worn the same clothes as everyone else, so as not to stand out. William should have realised that but, for once, he didn't seem to have put two and two together.
It occurred to me then that there was at least one male wearing a long black cloak who was not a vampire. At least, I didn't think he was. To be honest, it had never occurred to me to check. But surely no bona fide vampire would be as much of a pillock as Sylvie's Karl?
On second thoughts, I'd known some vampires who were not all that bright. And if they were relatively new arrivals among the undead, they did sometimes take a while to learn the ropes.
I decided it wasn't the moment to put William right about what vampires wore. Instead, I said, "So anyone wearing a long swirly cloak is bound to be a vampire?"
William shook his head fiercely. "Course not. I'm not daft, Theo. You can hire gear like yours in the fancy dress shop. They do lots of it at Halloween, you know."
"Fine. But you didn't answer my original question. How do you recognise a vampire, William?"
He hesitated. "Well, to be honest, I just do. A feeling, you know? Then I watch to see if I'm right. He did his bat thing, the first time, so it was a no-brainer."
His feeling, however it worked, had been spot on with me, too. He'd easily recognised me as a vampire. And I hadn't done the "bat thing" while he was around. Not at first, anyway. Just William definitely had hidden depths.
But something didn't smell quite right about this other so-called vampire, in spite of the "bat thing".
"OK, you were right the first time. The bat thing proves that. But this time? You saw a man in a swirly cloak. You assumed he was your other vampire. But was he? Couldn't he have been just a man in a swirly cloak? Dressing up?"
I expected an immediate denial. But William wasn't your average eight year-old. He thought about it for a good minute or so while we plodded along the road from the beach. "I'm pretty sure it was the same one. It was the hat, you see."
"What kind of hat was it? You never actually told me."
"A top hat. I've seen them on TV. Mum likes Fred and Ginger films, you see. Top Hat's her favourite."
"Can't you hire top hats from your fancy dress shop, too?"
"Well, yes. But it's how this guy wears it. Always at a cocky angle. And no matter what he does, the hat doesn't seem to fall off."
I didn't think that was a slam dunk. If a top hat fitted well enough, it would always stay on. Mine does.
On the other hand, what chance is there that a top hat hired from a fancy dress shop would actually fit well? William might be right after all.
Then again, William's other vampire sounded a lot like Sylvie's prat. In a hat.
Prat in a hat? That gave me an idea.
"You don't like Sylvie's boyfriend much, do you, William?"
He coloured a bit. "Don't know him. Sylvie hasn't let any of us near him."
"But you still don't like him?"
"Talking about him makes Sylvie go all gooey. It's gross." William made a disgusted face—pulled down lower lip, protruding bottom teeth, screwed-up cheeks and eyes. The whole nine yards, to coin a phrase.
I got the message. And I reckoned William was my man. "You'd like it if she dumped him, wouldn't you?"
He nodded. Then he went very quiet. Waiting. And looking expectantly at me.
I didn't ask him to explain why he was so anti—I wasn't sure he really knew, anyway—and I didn't want anything to put the kibosh on my plan. Like William, I was sure Sylvie would be much better off without lover-boy, but I also knew that she had to decide that for herself. She wouldn't take advice from anyone, not even a well-intentioned vampire. At the moment, she was all gooey about the pillock. So, what would make her ungooey?
I was pretty sure I knew. Well, it was obvious, wasn't it?
"William," I said slowly, "I've got an idea how to get Sylvie to dump the boyfriend. But I'd need you to tell Sylvie a story that isn't—um—exactly true. Not total lies, but not the whole truth either. Does she usually twig when you tell her porkies?"
"Depends."
"Well, if you did it right, you wouldn't have to tell her any actual lies. You'd have to tell the story a bit hesitantly, leaving gaps, letting her fill in the missing bits. If she jumped to the wrong conclusions, that wouldn't be your fault, would it? It might involve a bit of play-acting, though. Think you could do that?"
"Oh, I can do that." He smiled a conspirator's smile. I realised that he and Sylvie were even more alike than I'd thought. "I can be very convincing when I need to, you know. I worked it all out, years ago. You gaze up at them, open your eyes very wide—" he did exactly that, turning himself into an innocent and vulnerable little boy in the process "—and they melt. Believe every word you say, too."
That shook me up a bit. "Have you heard of a guy called Machiavelli, William?"
"Oh, yes. Haven't read him yet, though. He's a bit difficult for me." The innocent look had vanished in a split second.
I think I may have gasped.
William didn't pay any attention. He went on, blithely, "My technique works a treat. But I can't use it too often, of course. Mum might twig. And Sylvie certainly would."
"Oh. OK. Right." I tried to get my brain back in gear. It took a moment. "This is what I think you should tell Sylvie," I began. Then, looking down into his conspirator's eyes, I rejigged what I'd been going to say. "Nothing's set in stone, of course. If you've got a better idea, we can go with that. Feel free to suggest changes."
William nodded and smiled. Then he got impatient. "Come on, Theo. Give. What is this great plan of yours?"
Chapter Nine
Sylvie had heard enough. She put her hands on her hips and scowled down at her little brother. "So what did she look like, this woman Karl was all over?" she demanded.
William swallowed and looked away. Sylvie almost felt sorry for him. He was embarrassed, talking about grown-up stuff like sex. But she needed to know what Karl was up to. And William was the only person who could tell her.
"Tall? Short? Fat? Thin?" she snapped. "You must know what you saw, William."
"Um, tall. Not fat. Blonde hair. Didn't see what colour her eyes were."
Sylvie swore. Then wished she hadn't. Not in front of William. But, honestly…! "A blonde, eh? Well, she'll make a fantastic Goth, won't she?"
Oops! She shouldn't have said that. But at least she hadn't mentioned Whitby. William would certainly have picked up on that.
William might not have noticed her slip. He was sidling towards the bedroom door.
"And don't you think of nipping down your tree to see Theo tonight, either," Sylvie said sharply, before he could creep out. "He'll be long gone. It's my night for the beach hut. I'm meeting Karl. And he'd better have a really good explanation." She ground her teeth. "Or else!"
When the door closed behind William, Sylvie slumped down on to her bed. If William's story was true—and why wouldn't it be?—Karl was cheating on Sylvie, taking her for an idiot. She wasn't having that. And she certainly wasn't going to be taken for a ride by a two-timing two-bit actor dressed up in fancy Goth gear.
She'd make him admit the truth.
And then she'd kick him. Hard.
When Karl arrived at Number 23a, he wasn't wearing his vampire kit. He was wearing tight jeans and a red T-shirt that clung enough to show off his biceps and his abs. He certainly kept himself in shape, but budding actors probably had no choice, Sylvie decided sourly.
She didn't think the sexy look was only for her. Probably any passing female would do. Especially if she was blonde.
"Nice abs, but aren't you cold in just that T-shirt?" He frowned at her. Good. She'd intended to get under his skin. "You'd be warmer in your black vampire gear. Like last night, hmm?"
"What d'you mean? I didn't see you last night."
"No, but William saw you. You were all over a blonde last night, he said. I can well believe it. It's what you do. You were all over me the other night, too."
He backed off a step and shook his head. "Not me, sweetie. Not with a blonde. Not my type." He shook his head again. Then he took a strand of her black hair between finger and thumb, stroking it lovingly. "I prefer brunettes. None of your bottle-blondes for me. Your little brother was seeing things."
"There's nothing wrong with his eyesight," Sylvie snapped. "He recognised you."
"Did he? Well, that's clever of him, because I was busy last night." He smiled down into Sylvie's eyes. "What made him think it was me?"
"He described you. The vampire kit. The top hat. The cocky angle you wear it at."
He chuckled. "Somebody else, darlin'. Maybe even a real vampire? You never know."
Sylvie swallowed. Could it have been Theo with the blonde? No. William would have recognised Theo. It must have been Karl.
"You weren't with me," she insisted. "So what were you so busy at? Hmm?" His story better be good.
"I was rehearsing."
"Ho, yus?"
"What do you think I'm doing here, in this piddling little hole? I
'm an actor, remember?"
"So you say. But you never told me about any plays you'd been in, or films, or anything. Why should I believe you? Besides, Little Piddling doesn't have a theatre. The one on the pier won't be open until the tourist season."
"Huh. Don't know much about your own town, do you? Haven't you heard of Primly Court?"
"That's not in Little Piddling. It's miles away." It was a minor stately home, out in the country. Sylvie had never been there.
"Well, the City type who bought it fancies himself an actor. He's rebuilt its private theatre—no expense spared, but then he's stinking rich. He wants to put on plays, for a very select audience. And guess who's to be the star?"
Sylvie's eyebrows shot up. "You?"
"No chance. Himself, of course—Jacob Pringle-Coot."
She tried not to laugh. How could anyone have a name like Jacob Pringle-Coot? It was even worse than Sylvia.
"Anyway," Karl went on, "my job is to teach him to act. Or at least enough so he won't make a complete fool of himself when he puts his play on."
"What play?"
"I'll give you one guess. Long black cloak, top hat, fangs?"
"Dracula?" Sylvie gasped.
"Got it in one, sweetie. Where else did you think I'd got the gear from? Anyway, last night, I was giving acting lessons to my host, Jacob Pringle-Coot. So I couldn't have been shagging some passing blonde in the street in Little Piddling, could I?"
"Host? Are you staying there, at Primly Court?"
"Yup. Bed and board. Goes with the acting lessons. Paid acting lessons."
"And I suppose there aren't any slinky blondes lurking around?"
"Well, his wife is blonde. But she's nothing to look at. She's got a younger sister, though, who's tried it on a couple of times. But I've told you, blondes aren't my thing. I much prefer long-legged brunettes. Especially ones who kiss as well as you do."
Beach Hut Surprise: Escape to Little Piddling this summer — six feel-good beach reads to make you smile, or even laugh out loud Page 27
