by Paul Magrs
‘I was caught up thinking about my father . . .’
Effie sighed heavily. ‘Well. I doubt that she would have listened anyway. So, we’ve got work to do tomorrow, ducky.’
Brenda lifted her solitary schooner of sweet sherry. ‘Saving the world again?’
‘Someone has to. Good night, lovey.’
And then Effie was off, back to her emporium.
Into the Night
Robert knew that this was his final flight with his fella.
So, he had had a new boyfriend for a little while. It hadn’t really worked out. He knew that this bloke wasn’t the kind to go picking out curtains with.
That night they took a little flight round the coast. They soared past the rocky cliffs and the gentle green slopes. Robert clung to the settee’s arm as they scudded through the clouds and swept through the huge hollow of the Hole of Horcum.
At last they returned to town, circling high above the thronging streets and drinking in the sight of all those lights. All those sparkles. They said very little, but then they always had said very little to one another. Robert could tell his fella was different to usual. He was complete somehow, in an undefinable way. He had a purpose suddenly. He wasn’t just swooping about in the night for the hell of it. He wasn’t content just to diddle about with some stand-in hotel manager like Robert. Now, suddenly, Robert’s fella had stuff to do. He had a mission.
The sofa drifted carefully back to earth. Michael guided it back to the erstwhile beer garden of Sheila Manchu.
He kissed Robert and said, ‘I’ve been reminded who I am.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Robert. ‘But I believe it. You’re different now. You’re—’
Michael pressed his finger to Robert’s lips, shushing him. He nodded at the third figure on the settee. The silent figure. The man who had been dismantled in the attic above Karla Sorenson’s rooms. He told Robert: ‘I’m taking away what remains of Frank here.’
‘What can you do for him?’ asked Robert.
‘His only hope is in magic. I’m taking him away, under the hill.’
‘What hill?’
‘A particular hill. Far away.’
‘Is that where you come from? Where you belong?’
Michael was evasive. Robert couldn’t pin him down. ‘I will try to save him. Whatever Brenda or Victor says, these monsters do have souls. I can save them.’
But why? Robert wanted to know. Who are you, saving the souls of monsters? ‘Brenda will be upset,’ he said.
‘She’d be more upset to find that Frank has been ripped apart like this.’
‘Penny will be upset too.’
‘I was never the Michael Penny thought I was. That was all fake. A made-up life, with a made-up past, I’m sorry to say.’
Robert couldn’t even look too closely at the ruinous form of Frank. His sluggish, tepid blood had soaked into the settee’s upholstery. It would be murder to get cleaned up.
‘I must go,’ said Michael.
‘And what about me?’ asked Robert impulsively. I might as well ask. I might as well pretend that I thought I mattered to him. Then he hated himself for seeming needy. I have a right to ask, he thought. I’m losing my fella.
Michael kept his voice cool and removed. ‘I never belonged to you. I am the Erl King. You belong to me. You and others, just as needy. You belong to me, for a while. And then – guess what? – I’m gone.’
He didn’t kiss Robert again. He went back to the sofa and sat down. He gave a sad and playful smile as the three-seater took off.
Robert watched him set off again into the night, just as he had many other nights these past few weeks. But this time Michael – or the Erl King, or the Faerie King, whoever he was – was bearing away the mortal remains of Brenda’s husband.
What the devil was Robert going to tell Brenda? How could he explain what had happened to her man?
Tempted Sorely
It was Saturday, and the ladies were poised over their tea in the front window table of the Walrus and the Carpenter.
There was increased traffic up and down Church Street this morning, as Effie observed mildly. On just a typical Goth weekend it could be a deathly crush on the cobbles. But today it was even worse. Because of the film. Because of all the various preparations for the filming of the climactic sequences that night. ‘I bet it’s all go up there at the abbey just now.’
Brenda wasn’t saying much. She was chomping desultorily on her cinnamon toast.
Well, I can be quiet as well, thought Effie. As it happened, she had rather a lot to mull over. All about Alucard. She felt a number of sweet tingles as she thought his name aloud in her head. It felt to her like that crispiness of the caramelised sugar on her toast. Slow fumes of desire were rising up in her.
Of course he will come through again tonight. Of course he will. That is his plan. It was his plan all along to manipulate the Brethren and the servants of the Brethren. He must be behind everything. And it’s all in order to get himself out of hell. To get himself back to his beloved.
Effie didn’t say anything of that sort to Brenda, of course. She was scared of looking a total fool. But she found she wanted to talk about him anyway. She frowned and dithered and found she was starting to doubt herself. Just a niggle.
She said to Brenda, off-handedly, ‘Maybe . . . maybe it wasn’t even really Kristoff I saw that night, coming out of hell . . . Hm? What do you think, ducky?’
Brenda was brought up short by this. ‘Mm?’
‘Maybe I just thought I saw him.’
Brenda sighed, and it was as if she was dragging herself away from her own fascinating cogitations and she found Effie’s rather dull. Effie flushed and glared at her friend. Brenda asked her, ‘Are you starting to doubt who you saw in those final moments we were in the past? He’s pretty distinctive. Those blummin’ teeth of his.’
Effie shook her head decisively. ‘I’m not the sort to go seeing things. It was definitely him back there in 1967, trying to get out of the underworld. And he’ll do it again tonight. When they get to that bit in the film, he’ll come through again.’
Brenda gasped suddenly. ‘Then you don’t want to stop them at all, do you? You want him to come back. Of course you do.’
Effie looked down at the table, mumbling something Brenda didn’t hear.
But Brenda’s mind wasn’t really on Effie’s problems, and they both knew it. Her mind was on her father. His new marriage. She found that irksome and embarrassing, more than anything.
What would people say? What would it be like, with everyone knowing her old dad was in town? And that he had this new, glamorous, apparently wonderful wife?
Brenda and Effie paid up and finished the dregs of their tea. They took a walk, still not talking very much, up Church Street, to the foot of the 199 steps. Here there were various press photographers taking pictures of the more fancily attired Goth visitors. Effie noted waspishly that only the most attractive girls were chosen to have their photos taken. The ones showing lots of goosepimpled flesh.
‘I’m going up to the church,’ Brenda told her friend. ‘I might have a mooch about in the ruins. See what’s happening up at the set.’
Effie pulled a face. ‘I’m not going all the way up there. Not if we have to haul our tired old carcasses up there this evening as well. No, if you don’t mind, Brenda love, I’ll whiz back down the hill and get round the shops. My cupboards are looking bare at home.’
Brenda watched her friend turn and scurry away through the holidaying crowd.
Maybe Effie wasn’t to be trusted. If what she really wanted was for hell to open tonight and disgorge its wickedest resident. If that was the case, perhaps the two friends were even on opposite sides?
Brenda shook her head free of nasty thoughts. She set to, marching up the shallow steps that wound an elegant loop to the church. She found them rather awkward to climb, with her slightly mismatched legs, but she was dogged.
Must be getting past it. She had to rest half
way on a bench.
Today she was really feeling her age. Her mind kept dwelling on the severity of her aches and pains. Were they worse than ever? Or was she imagining that? It had to happen, didn’t it? The gradual wearing down of her body. Even though she was so much more robust than living humans, and even though she had spares galore, there was still the law of entropy to be faced up to. And there was no denying for Brenda the exhaustion that trembled even in her replacement limbs and organs. The laborious nights she sat stitching bits back on, filled with hope of refreshment and ease: now that was accompanied by an awful dread. A sense that even the freshest of her spare parts were becoming stale and overused.
This morning was when she was struck by a very startling thought.
It was the reason she was happy to see Effie go off by herself. Brenda had a very interesting epiphany to deal with. And it was best dealt with alone, tramping about in the long yellow grass of the graveyard, braving the freezing, slicing wind from the sea. She wove in and out of the gravestones, noting that their inscriptions had been almost obliterated by the sea salt in the breeze. Those stones looked almost as if they had been melted in ghastly hell-fires, it always seemed to her. But then it would, wouldn’t it?
Concentrate, Brenda, she thought. Concentrate on that very tempting thought that struck you back in the café, while you were chewing on your cinnamon toast. With Victor back . . . might he be persuaded? Did he still have the requisite skill? Would he even consider helping her?
These were the tempting thoughts.
She was over two hundred years old. Bits of her were wearing so thin.
With Victor here, she stood the chance of being renewed. He could rebuild her.
Suddenly she felt greedy and excited. Buffeted by the wind at the top of the town. All of Whitby and its excited visitors swarming throught the decrepit streets. Brenda drew in a huge, cleansing breath and laughed out loud. Like a madwoman, she thought. But who cared? Who cared if anyone heard her?
I could be young again . . .
Lost Boyfriends
On Saturday morning, Penny was ecstatic to see that Robert was back home at the Hotel Miramar.
She saw him at the reception desk when she came down to work that morning. Dapper as anything in his maroon waistcoat and neatly pressed white shirt. He was businesslike and focused, behaving as if nothing had gone on at all. As if he had merely been away on leave for a couple of days. She could hardly believe he didn’t try to explain himself.
‘WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT’S BEEN HAPPENING?’
He shushed her.
‘WHAT? But we’ve all been really worried about you! Robert, tell me! Talk to me!’
But he wouldn’t talk just yet. Gallingly, he said to her, ‘Be more professional, Penny. You’re alarming the guests.’
‘WHAT?’ It really stung her, this. ‘Be professional?’ Like that was the best thing anyone could ever be. Not kind or concerned: those things didn’t matter. Her ex, Ken, had been very big on spurious professionalism too. Suddenly she felt like kicking the prodigal manager.
But he insisted that they work quietly side by side at the reception desk until the morning rush was finished with. All the while Penny gritted her teeth and burned with questions. How dare he not thank her for taking over the running of this place? How dare he just waltz back in like he’d never been away? She cast him a number of murderous glances as they went about their business. Then, after a vexed half hour, he turned to her and said:
‘Erm. It turns out that . . . my fella, who I’d been seeing, he’s gone now. And it turns out he was Michael. The bloke you liked.’
‘Jesus,’ Penny cursed. ‘Typical. That’s always happening to me. Where’s he gone? Why’s he gone?’
‘Dunno,’ said Robert. He seemed shifty to Penny. ‘And he’s taken Frank with him. Frank’s not in a good way. Michael’s taking him somewhere to get better.’
‘Huh?’ Penny didn’t get this at all. What did he mean? Some kind of hospital? A resort? Rehab? What was the matter with Frank anyway? ‘What are you going to say to Brenda about any of this?’ she asked him.
‘I don’t know yet.’ He was terse. He wouldn’t be drawn. He tried to escape her attentions then, ducking away into his private office. But Penny wasn’t to be deterred.
Wherever he went that morning, bustling about his duties all over the Miramar, Penny was at his heels. Dogging him with queries he really didn’t want to answer.
‘But where were you? You were days and days away.’
He grimaced. ‘I know.’
Did he seem older and sadder? Like he had been away much longer than just a matter of days? Like he had seen things he had never seen before? Or was Penny just romanticising that? Maybe he just looked tired. And sad that Michael (Michael! That betrayer!) had nicked off in a flit.
At any rate, Robert kept telling Penny that he was very glad of her help. He was very pleased with the way she had kept things going. Albeit in a ramshackle manner, as he implied, with his praise. At least the Miramar was still ticking over.
‘I thought you’d run away with your fella,’ Penny told him. ‘Michael, as it turns out.’ She felt a sickly hollowness as she said his name.
This was at lunchtime. Liquid lunch. Gin in the hotel lounge bar. ‘Almost. I almost went away with him.’ Robert nodded. ‘He asked me if I wanted to run away.’ He pulled a face. He decided not to tell lies. ‘Well, no, he didn’t. But if he had, I’d have gone.’ He stabbed his ice cubes with his straw. ‘Can you believe it? Your mate Michael? From Spector.’
‘All right, don’t rub it in.’
‘I never knew. Honest, Penny. If I’d known it was the fella you were bothered about, I’d have said something.’
‘Well why didn’t he say anything? Stringing me along. And . . . Jesus, he was gay? I never clocked that. God, Lisa’s going to be well pissed off. She’d set her hot tongs flashing in his direction as well.’
They both had a laugh about that, once Penny had explained who Lisa was.
‘Well,’ Robert sighed, ‘he’s not here anyway. He’s left us all.’
Penny suddenly made a connection. ‘That’s what Michael was on about, then. When he was saying that he really belonged to some other life, elsewhere . . . realising something about himself . . . He said he was linked to you. He could tell that you were in some terrible danger.’
‘He rescued me. From the attic. Me and Frank.’
Heartened by the gin, Robert spent the rest of their lunch hour filling Penny in on his exploits in the attic.
‘Karla kidnapped you?’
‘It was terrible, Penny. I never thought I was going to get out. The woman is a monster. And I daren’t tell you what happened to Frank while we were trapped up there, at the top of the Christmas Hotel. All I’ve eaten is dry turkey and stuffing sandwiches. For a week!’
‘Frank’s not dead, is he?’
‘Not quite. But like I say, he’s gone away. Michael took him away.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Penny.
‘Michael reckons that Frank’s only chance was to go away with him. To the place that Michael comes from, where they can maybe help him. And save his life.’
‘Where’s that?’ Penny persisted. She thought about Michael’s accent. ‘Ireland?’
‘I don’t know. I got the impression it was somewhere . . . you know . . . like, magic. Anyway. I just know the whole life he thought he belonged to, when he was with you, it was all made up.’
‘Made up?’
‘But he didn’t know it. You have to believe this, Penny. He was unaware of who he really was. He thought he was just the manager of a bar, but . . .’ Here Robert shook his head, puzzled. ‘He was yet another person in this town who was far more than the sum of his parts.’
‘Ha,’ said Penny. ‘I never even got to see his parts. I bet you did, though.’
Robert winced at her abrasive tone. He told her, ‘I don’t fully understand all of this myself.’
Pen
ny changed the subject, suddenly looking resolute. ‘We have to tell them, Robert. Brenda and Effie. They need to know you’re back.’
He nodded. ‘Give me an hour or two more to get this place shipshape. Where is everyone, anyway? There’s not a guest in sight now.’
‘They’ll be up at the abbey. The crew and the cast and everyone else. Today’s the day of the big shoot. The final Hallowe’en shoot.’
Picking Up Effie
On the way down the hill from the Miramar, they bumped into Effie. At first Robert thought he was seeing things. Effie actually looked delighted to see him.
‘Robert!’
He picked her up in a clumsy hug. She was light as a bird in his arms. ‘I got away, Effie! I escaped!’
‘Where the devil from? What are you talking about? Calm down, young man!’ She batted at his arms to put her down.
Now Penny was gabbling. ‘It’s true, Effie. He was being held captive up in the attic of the Christmas Hotel.’
Effie squawked. ‘By Mrs Claus? I wouldn’t put it past her. That old monster has kept Brenda and me under lock and key in the past.’
‘No,’ Robert broke in. ‘Not her. Karla.’
Penny asked, ‘Where’s Brenda, Effie? This is serious. Frank was locked up there as well, but he’s been hurt, and—’
Effie frowned, trying to take everything in. ‘What are you saying? That Karla’s been taking prisoners?’
‘That’s exactly what we’re saying,’ said Robert.
‘We need Brenda,’ Effie decided.
Quick Promenade
At Brenda’s B&B, there was no sign of her.
‘Perhaps she’s not back yet.’ Effie frowned.
But then a very alarming pair of Brenda’s guests came out of the side passage. ‘She’s been back,’ said one. ‘Clive saw her in the hallway, didn’t you, Clive?’
Clive – who was ingeniously dressed as a headless ghost – nodded with some difficulty.
‘But then,’ added the female guest in the magnificent basque, ‘she went dashing out again. Looking like she had a lot on her mind.’
