Sticky Valves: Book 1 of the Saddleworth Vampire Series

by Angela Blythe

  ‘Ok, I will bring it over when it is ready.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ he replied and returned to his seat, knowing his pie would only be fifteen minutes at the most, and by that time some of the others would be in. Some ate meals there and some didn’t, but no one cared really what the others consumed as they were just there for the conversation and company. He had just settled himself when he saw two friendly faces smiling through the little windows into the pub. They noisily came into the small vestibule, there was a waft of cold crisp air and they began hanging up their coats. Irene, was a very slim, small Scottish lady, who was dreamy, spiritual and referred to herself as ‘Wee Renee’. So that is what everyone else called her too. She always wore strange clothes that didn’t match and had an other-worldly aura about her. Her friend Pat was the opposite. Large, loud and a woman of great appetites. She drank stout and tales were told of all the husbands she had had before moving to Friarmere, but no one dared to ask her the truth. Opposites attract however and Pat and Wee Renee were the very best of friends. They played in different sections of the band, Wee Renee on cornet and Pat on horn but they always stood together when it came to opinions on music and everything else, whether that was politics, tattoos or which washing powder was the best.

  They went to the bar and ordered their drink and meal. Wee Renee went for a small sweet sherry and a cheese salad sandwich. Pat went for half a pint of stout, large fish and chips, bread and butter with chocolate fudge cake and fresh cream for pudding.

  ‘I’ll get the cutlery,’ she said. Wee Renee picked up both drinks and came straight over to sit down with Freddie. She had a shopping bag with her which contained all manner of secrets and everyone knew she liked a seat at the back so she could get her flask of herbal tea out and drink it later. Pat followed a minute later, three sets of cutlery in one hand, salt and vinegar in the other hand, tomato ketchup under one armpit and brown sauce under the other. She dropped herself down on one of the soft chairs and unloaded her burdens.

  ‘I brought you one Freddie, you know you always forget until it arrives,’ she nudged him.

  ‘Thoughtful as ever, Pat,’ he said.

  ‘And brown. I know you like brown on your pie.’

  ‘I might not be having pie. I am a man of mystery. No one knows my next move.’

  ‘I’d bet my best knickers you are having pie. I’ve never seen you eat anything else.’

  ‘Alright. I am having pie,’ he laughed, 'you can keep your knickers on.’

  ‘They are wee pink ones. I’ve seen them on the washing line,’ Wee Renee joked.

  ‘Nothing of mine is wee, Rene,’ Pat replied.

  Freddie took a drink of his beer at that point, and kept quiet, which was best. He thought that was enough talk about Pat’s knickers. Freddie liked them both very much and they were very good company on their own, but especially together. They really bounced off each other and many times it was like watching a cabaret show.

  Outside, Maurice looked through the window. He watched Freddie, Pat and Wee Renee laughing and ached to be inside and part of it all. It made him feel immensely sad for his old life and wished for his old knees back and all his frailties. He hadn’t realised how much he enjoyed his life until it was gone. Walking to the shop he had had an idea, he had bought four packets of liver, which he thought at this time of night, didn’t look too suspicious and he had also bought one bottle of Guinness. Maybe, if he tried it at home, and it gave him no severe after effects then perhaps, cravings withstanding, and if he hadn’t attacked the postman, next week he could come to the pub and join in with everyone else. Maybe just live in hope that no one ordered garlic mushrooms. Just then the landlord came round and shut all the curtains, not noticing Maurice as he was laughing at something Pat had said and his eyes were on her. Maurice drew back. He felt shut off from the band, in more ways than one now. He sadly went off into the night, to his dark house, with the newspaper on the windows and the solitary prospect of his liver and Guinness supper.

  One by one they came into the pub. The biggest group being Bob, with his parents, Tony and Sue. Soon the alcove was full, and tables were loaded with glasses, plates and crisp packets. Bob had wanted the foot long ‘dog’ which he had foolishly put too much ketchup on, and had splattered everywhere. Wee Renee was trying to get it out of Gary’s fair isle sweater with some baby wipes.

  ‘I’m so sorry Gary,’ Sue embarrassingly said, ‘he won’t be told, you know.’

  ‘It’s not a problem, I have got everything on this. That’s why I always wear patterned ones. They last longer until the wash. I have egg and everything on this, you know.’

  ‘I think it is wise for me to take it home and give it a wee wash in fairy suds,’ said Wee Renee, giving up on the baby wipes and putting them back in her bag.

  ‘No, Wee Renee, it’s good enough that is,’ he replied without even checking the stain.

  Bob was on his phone texting his friend, ignoring all the fuss that he had caused. He had tried this tactic many times to avoid trouble and it mostly worked.

  ‘I saw Maurice earlier, on the way here. He is getting himself some medicine, so should be on the mend soon, Ernie.’

  ‘Good news. I said to Lynn, that he looked very peaky last week. You’re here though, Liz. Always the trooper.'

  ‘Yeah, I couldn’t face being in on my own and Andy was coming anyway. I thought it would be good for a distraction.’

  ‘Janet rang Liz yesterday. She is really worried about Woody. He hasn’t been to work, still ill from last week.’

  ‘She is really fretting, bless her, because she had to go on a weekend residential course with work this weekend and you know how funny they are if you don’t go. She wanted to look after Woody even though she says he is in a mood with her. He promised her he would come out tonight and meet us. I am wondering if he is too ill or too miserable to come,' Liz said.

  ‘I’ll give him a ring,’ Ernie assured her.

  ‘It’s like a wee plague,’ Wee Renee whispered.

  ‘Yeah, a zombie plague,' said Bob, with an interested look on his face. ‘Or vampires.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘You with your horror club. You and Adam, want to watch some spy films or adventure films, or something. You pair are horror mad.’

  ‘Rest assured lad, if they rock up to our front door, I still have my gun!’ Tony said loudly.

  ‘Shh…..’ said Sue, poking him in leg, ‘you won’t have it long, if you keep shouting about it.’

  ‘What’s this, Tony?’ Pat said excited, ‘I never knew you were pistol packing!’

  ‘It was his grandad’s, Pat. It probably doesn’t even work. It was from the war.’

  ‘It does work, I’ve taken it up on the moors and shot some tin cans up there.’

  ‘Oh, have you now? When was I going to hear about this?’ Sue asked.

  Tony didn’t reply and looked up to the ceiling for inspiration.

  ‘Guns are useless on things like that, Dad. You need to join horror club with me and Adam.’

  ‘He’s right, you know. Guns don’t work. I, myself have witnessed all sorts of weird and strange things roam these moors. On this plane and from beyond the veil, believe me,’ Wee Renee said in a quivering voice. Looking around them all with large eyes in distress.

  Pat surveyed the others, waiting for someone to dispute this. Then when they didn’t, she sniffed and finished her drink.

  ‘Has anyone here considered it could be aliens…..or pod people,’ whispered Gary.

  Bob stuck two thumbs at Gary.

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Anyone for another?’ Tony asked.

  Woody lay on top of his bed considering what Janet has asked him to do. He didn’t feel like going to the pub and making conversation with people. He was generally an amiable bloke, always had been. Not this last week. He had told her just what she wanted to hear so she would go and not worry about him. She had rang today. He didn’t want to answer the phone, spea
k to her or anyone else, but he knew if he didn’t she would be straight in the car back down to him, to see what was wrong. As he preferred to be on his own, he had chosen this option and put on his best I am okay voice, to quickly get free of the situation. He never had any intention of going to the pub. She had left him all his meals for the two days she was away - food on separate plates, covered with foil, in the fridge. Each plate had a sticky note with the instructions on how to heat it, stuck to the top. He hadn’t ate since she had gone and was used to eating quite a lot. So what he did now was rub his stomach and just think about how ill he was and how he just wanted it to go away. The thought had crossed his mind that he might be getting depressed as he had never felt like this before. Trying to cheer himself up, he got off the bed, slowly went down the stairs one at a time, holding tight to the banister, and sat down in his chair, exhausted. He put on the football that he had recorded earlier. He thought he might drop off this morning so had set the recorder. In fact he had been asleep all day. He had no energy, and knew usually he constantly ate large meals, snacks and fatty foods, so he could transport his body to work and band and to do the garden. No wonder he felt so weak as no food was inside him. He decided to make an effort, now he had got as far as getting downstairs and wandered into the kitchen. He even struggled to open the fridge and when he did, he leaned with his other hand on the work surface to support him. He peeked under all the circles of foil and decided to eat a couple of sausage out of the one that contained sausage and mash. As usual Janet gave generous portions and there were six fat cooked sausages in there. So he ate three, standing there by the fridge. They tasted good and already he felt a little better. He stood for what he thought was a minute but was actually ten minutes daydreaming, looking into the fridge, but not seeing it. He reached under the foil again and ate the other three, took the plate out and put it on the table, removing the foil. He stared at the plate, the mashed potatoes, peas, onion gravy. No, he couldn’t manage that. But then something that his mother used to say, crossed his mind. What was it? What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over. He laid the foil flat on the table, and scraped the rest of the meal on top of it, folding the foil over the top, to make a parcel, which went straight into the bin. She would only tell him off if she found the mash in the waste food container. He was just thinking what else he could try to eat out the foil containers when there was a knock at the door.

  The Master stood looking through a chink in the curtains at the people in the pub, with one red eye. He could hear everything they were saying and could smell their delicious blood above the food and alcohol. Michael was with him and was trying to look over his shoulder.

  ‘I have plans for them all, you know but in particular I would like that boy and his family. I have never collected a whole family. You would think I have, but something has always happened and I would only get one, sometimes two. Isn’t it strange, after all this time, that I haven’t done it? I have a special interest in them, but I get the feeling, this is my time and I will get many in this village. Just something on my tick list, Michael.’

  ‘It’s good to have goals.’ remarked Michael. ‘Didn’t any of them have your wine?’

  ‘No. Alas, only two had wine the other night. A lot less than I anticipated.’

  ‘It doesn’t shock me. A lot are tea drinkers in this band. And if truth were told, I only have wine if someone else is buying. I can be found brewing up more often than not. What are you going to do then? Just wait for them when they go home? Get them all at once?’

  ‘No. it is not what I am about to do it at all. Quick is to be discovered and that is not what I am wanting to do, am I? I am playing the long game. No quick gains. I have made that mistake before. This time I can have it all and that is what I want, so can wait my own sweet time.’

  ‘Can I ask what you are planning to do with Christine. How does she fit into your plans? I don’t like her very much. She thinks she is better than me, and she isn’t!’

  The master detected a hint of jealousy from Michael. He knew that many people became obsessed with him and wanted to be in his best favour. To be his special one above anyone else. Wasn’t that human nature, and Michael was still human. He had to reassure him.

  ‘That is not certain now but she is a good pawn is she not? She has connections. She is useful to our cause.’

  ‘That isn’t what you are doing with me is? Using me as a pawn?’

  ‘Of course not,’ The Master replied, ‘but we all have our roles in this war, even me. I have plans for many of you. For instance, tonight’s visit we made. He will make an excellent servant of mine and spreader of the word, so to speak. I think he will be able to be undiscovered for a while. He has control.’

  ‘Ah, Woody yes. Nice bloke is Woody.’

  ‘You see, prior sanity is the biggest part in how they will become. If they have the predisposition to become violent, this will become great once I have made them my own. Some will hide it, some will become terrifying.’

  Michael gulped. He could see an aspect of this in Stephen, who before, let’s face it, was pretty normal.

  ‘What you don’t know is that I have done this many times before. Quite recently in fact so I know what I am doing, no need to be concerned. I think you need to go and check on Stephen. He is still in need of guidance and support.’

  ‘Can’t you do it? I don’t know what I am doing. Why do I have to have the uncontrollable sibling?’

  ‘You aren’t the only one. Maybe I have one too, but that is for another night. Needless to say I have better things to do and more visits to make tonight. I have to visit my friends over the hill. Kate is there at this very moment, visiting her family and chewing the fat, so to speak. Earlier she informed me that other matters require my personal attention there. I will need to do that and back before morning. Tomorrow, I will try to tie up the some loose ends and get to the last few people that I marked on your Bonfire Night. Let each of us attend to our own business.’

  10 - Miracle

  The following rehearsal night was drizzly and misty. Sue had considered wearing her sheepskin boots for five minutes, when she looked out and saw that it was cold, grey, dark and moon-less. But, thinking about previous mistakes, and boots she had ruined, she had changed her mind. There will be an inch of mud to step in on the band car park, she thought. So she traded warmth for waterproof and wore her brown leather boots. She had more on her mind than boots and she hadn’t told Tony. This rash of illnesses that were affecting the band was really worrying her. What if Bob caught it? He wasn’t fully grown and it might hit him harder. What if it Spanish Flu or Bird Flu, or worse. Some idiot might have released a kind of germ warfare on them. No. It had to get better soon. She decided she had an overactive imagination.

  The bandroom was three-quarters full that night. Ernie was pleased with the attendance and the relief of thinking that he wouldn’t have to cancel any future concerts. What was unsettling was the fact that Barry looked ill. He slowly walked from the back of the room by the toilets to the front, holding onto each chair in the row as he passed to the front. They all looked up at him in silence.

  ‘I feel bloody wretched,’ said Barry exhaling. ‘Awful. Anyway as I am here I might as well get on with it.’

  ‘We don’t mind a night off,’ said Gary.

  ‘I am not that bad, that I can't manage to stand here and wag my baton in front of you.’ He opened the front page of his music score. ‘I might have to have a chair though. Ernie can I have the high bar stool from the back, so I can see ‘em all.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Shaun with concern. He picked up the stool over his head, carried it past the other musicians and put it beside Barry.

  ‘Thanks lad,’ Barry muttered and lowered himself down on to the stool.

  ‘I’ll brew up early,’ Sue said as she started to fill the electric kettle.

  ‘Thanks Sue. It might put a bit of lead back in my pencil,’ he sighed.

  After ten min
utes everyone had a cup of tea or coffee made for them and they were laid out with a plate of biscuits and fruit cake that Lynn Cooper had made. They all put their instruments down, and wandered over to the table, or outside for a cigarette. Pleased for the early break, whatever the circumstances, they were in the best spirits that had been since the previous week’s concert at The Grange. Lynn was trying to force Barry to have a beef tea that she had made for him. All of a sudden Andy looked at Maurice and then back at where Maurice was sitting.

  ‘Oh my god, Maurice! You haven’t got your stick!’

  Maurice looked down as if to see it. Then realization spread all over his face. They’ve outed you, he thought.

  ‘Ah yes…the stick….mmm…the stick. Yes, yes I was meaning to tell you. I've been having intense physiotherapy. My Doctor put me forward to the consultant and I feel ten years younger. I didn’t know if it would help, so didn’t tell you. Surprise!’

  ‘I am so pleased for you,’ exclaimed Freddie, walking over to shake his hand. ‘You even managed to keep it from me. Well done!’

  Everyone went over to him congratulating him, patting him on the back and asking him all about the physiotherapy. He felt an awful fraud and a liar. But what could he do.

  Liz sat in her chair exhausted. She had asked Andy to get her some cake and coffee, but he had become distracted by Maurice’s new found vitality and she was still waiting. She felt apart from the group, apart from even herself really. She felt like she was looking down on herself sitting on the chair with her instrument in her lap. Looking down on the situation and seeing it all. By heck, I hope I am wrong or going mad. I must be. She thought about what Maurice had just said. Ten years younger? She felt Ten years older, at least. Certainly last time she had seen herself reflected in the tv, when it was off, she looked it and had avoided looking into the mirror these last few days, it only depressed her. Liz was tired, weak and sick of fighting it. She knew what Maurice was. Is this what it did? Made you feel so ill, and weak and desperate that you caved in and became one of them? You need to stop feeling so wretched and you know there is only one way out. Well, she wasn’t going willingly. She wasn’t going to be on her own ever, either. Liz made sure she was always in the room with someone. Determined that she wouldn’t miss band practice, that was when they would get you. She was questioning her sanity again, when Andy plopped himself down in the next chair to her with her cake and coffee. Liz jumped up in her chair.