by Adele Abbott
Forty-five minutes later, they’d all showered and dressed.
“Do you want a lift in?” Neil shouted to Dorothy.
“No, I’m okay. I’m going to walk this morning. I need some fresh air to clear my head. Besides which, I’m starving.”
After the boys had left, Dorothy made her way upstairs.
“Dorothy?” Tilly was still in her dressing gown, and looked half asleep.
“Aren’t you at work today, Tilly?”
“Yeah, but it’s my late start. Did you want your blood?”
“Yes, please.”
“You don’t need to knock. You can just let yourself in.”
“I don’t like to do that. Not when you’re in. It doesn’t seem right.”
“How was your first night with your new flatmate?”
“Don’t ask. She’s a nightmare. She’s trying to be friendly, but I gave her the cold shoulder. It didn’t seem to work though. She’s already decided that we’ve got to have a flatmate’s meeting to talk about sharing the housework.”
“Your place is a bit of a tip.”
“No, it’s not!” She looked around at Tilly’s apartment, which was spotless. “You’re just obsessively clean.”
“No, I’m not. This is how normal people live. You three? Well, you deserve one another. Every time I come down to your apartment, I feel like I need to have a shower afterwards.”
“Hey! That’s a bit harsh!” She walked over to Tilly’s fridge, grabbed one of the two bottles of synthetic blood, and took a long drink. “Mmm, I needed that! I usually have a drink last thing at night, but I didn’t get the chance.”
“You should have come up here.”
“I couldn’t be bothered, and besides, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You could always have drunk the human’s blood.”
“What?” Dorothy looked aghast.
“Why not? Flatmates share things. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to share a little of her blood with you.”
“You mean kill her?”
“No! Of course not. You could just soft-feed from her.”
“Do what?”
“Dorothy, I despair of you sometimes. Are you sure you’re actually a vampire?”
“Of course I am.”
“And you don’t know what soft-feeding is?”
“No.”
“Sit down.”
Dorothy did as she was told. Tilly sat next to her.
“Soft-feeding is when you take a little blood from a human, but you don’t bite their necks. You just drain a little, and hope they don’t notice.”
“How are they not going to notice you draining their blood?”
“Obviously, you don’t do it while they’re awake. You wait until they’re asleep, and then prick a finger or toe. Let the blood drip onto a dish, and there you go. It’s never going to satisfy your hunger though. You’ll still need synthetic blood. But, there’s nothing quite like the taste of human blood. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve never tasted human blood.”
“I haven’t.”
“Not once? Not even a drop?”
“No.”
“Oh, girl, you don’t know what you’re missing. Synthetic blood’s okay, but it’s not a patch on the real thing. I have to indulge myself every now and then.”
“Here in Washbridge?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You attack humans?”
“No! Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? I soft-feed on them. Sometimes I do it when I go to a human girlfriend’s house for a sleepover. I wait until they’re asleep, and then take a little taster.”
“You’ve never told me this before, Tilly.”
“I didn’t think I needed to. It’s what most vampires do in the human world. I can’t believe you’ve never done it. Why don’t we try it together tonight on your human? You could give me the nod when she’s asleep, and I’ll pop down.”
“No!” Dorothy said. “It’s too dangerous. Definitely not!”
Chapter 8
The Bugle had its own car park, which was located in the basement of the building. Susan’s allocated space was as far from the stairs and lift as it could possibly have been. At least she didn’t have to pay to park. Even with the lighting it was still quite dark and dingy down there.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete floor towards the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something move. Susan stopped for a moment, but could see nothing, so carried on walking. Then it happened again; this time she heard a noise.
“Hello?” she shouted. “Is somebody there?”
There was no response, so she picked up her pace towards the stairs. She wasn’t going to risk the lift in case someone jumped in with her. Suddenly, a figure stepped out from behind a pillar, and almost scared her to death. She instinctively reached into her handbag where she always kept a spray for just this kind of situation.
“Come any closer and I’ll use this!”
He was a short, slight man, so Susan wasn’t particularly worried. Even without the spray, she knew how to handle herself. Unless this guy had some kind of weapon, she was confident she could take him down without much difficulty.
“It’s all right, Susan.” The man took a step closer. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”
“How do you know my name? Who are you?”
“You can call me Manic.”
“Manic? That’s not a name.”
“It’s what everyone calls me.” He laughed like a man possessed. The nickname made a little more sense now.
“I asked how you know my name?
“Manic knows lots of things.”
In Susan’s experience, people who referred to themselves in the third person were either plonkers or crazy. This guy was most probably both.
“What do you want?”
“Put the spray away, sweetie.”
“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me! What are you doing down here? This is private property.”
“Manic is here to offer you his help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Information. That’s what you reporters thrive on, isn’t it?”
“What sort of information?”
“Manic has lots of it—some good stuff, too. If there’s something rotten going on in Washbridge, then Manic knows about it.”
“I’m not interested. I’ve got work to do. You’d better get out of here or I’ll call security.”
“You’d be wasting your time. They won’t catch Manic. You’re new to the job, aren’t you? You’re going to need big stories. Manic knows how these things work. If you don’t come up with the goods, they’ll fire your backside, and get somebody else in.”
Susan didn’t respond, but that summed up her situation quite accurately.
“Manic has stories.” His eyes were wide and dark. “Big stories, too. Corruption, murder, you name it. Manic can give them to you before anybody else even knows there’s a story to be had.”
“And why would you do that?” She was still keeping her distance.
“Why do you think? For cash. Manic gives you the story; you give Manic cash.”
“I don’t know anything about you. Why would I trust anything you say?”
“Manic needs to build your trust. Manic understands that. That’s why Manic is prepared to give you the first story for free. Once you’ve seen the quality of the information Manic can bring you, we can sit down and talk money.”
Susan was familiar with people like Manic. Some of her colleagues in London had used some rather dodgy characters to provide them with leads. But this man? She didn’t want anything to do with him. He had rat-like features, and he smelled. And not in a good way.
“I’m not interested.” When she started to walk away, she half-expected to hear his footsteps behind her. If she did, she’d make him sorry he’d ever shown his ugly face. But s
he heard nothing. When she reached the stairs, she turned around. He was nowhere to be seen.
Susan had no sooner got to her desk than Flynn called her into his office.
“Are you okay, Flynn?” He didn’t look it. He looked worried.
“Not really. Take a seat, Susan.”
This sounded ominous. She had a horrible feeling he was going to tell her the paper had folded before they’d even had a chance to try to turn it around. It would be just her luck to have found a new apartment, and then lose her job.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The only reason The Bugle has survived this long is because it’s been the only game in town. Anywhere else, the paper would have closed long ago.”
“Been?”
“Yeah. That’s about to change. Do you know West Chipping?”
“Of course. It’s not far from here.”
“The paper over there is The Chips. It’s a terrible name, but not a bad paper from all accounts. Way better than The Bugle. Bigger circulation, better stories and better reporters. I’ve just heard that they’re about to expand their operation. They’re going to publish a sister paper here in Washbridge.”
“Are they opening up offices here?”
“A satellite office, I’d guess. They’ll feed the stories back to the main office in West Chipping. I’m not sure if they’ll publish under the same name. They’ll probably call it The Wash, or something equally stupid. But whatever they call it, it’s competition, which is something The Bugle’s never had before. This means our job just got way tougher.”
Back at her desk, Susan was still trying to take in what Flynn had told her. He was right. This upped the ante considerably.
“You’ve heard, then?” Dougal Andrews was standing next to her desk. Susan hated the way he crept around.
“Heard what, Dougal?” She really didn’t have the patience do deal with him.
“About The Chips.”
“Yeah. Flynn just told me.”
“I’m going to give them a call. They’ll need reporters working over here. As The Bugle’s top reporter, they’ll snatch my hand off. Double my salary, probably.”
Susan could hardly believe her ears. She wouldn’t have paid Dougal Andrews in bottle tops.
“If you’ve got any sense, you’ll come with me,” Dougal continued. “This place is going to fold even quicker than I thought it would. Do you want me to put a word in for you?”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll take my chances here.”
It was just after two pm. The phone on Susan’s desk rang.
“Susan Hall.”
“Hi. Are you one of the reporters?” a man said.
“Yeah. You’re through to the News Desk. How can I help you?”
“I might have a story for you.”
“What’s your name, please?”
“Sorry. It’s Patmore, Alex Patmore. I work at Patmore Funeral Services.”
“Okay?”
“I think there’s something suspicious about one of the clients I’ve just processed, and I’d like to talk to you about it, if I can.”
Clients? Processed? Susan shuddered at the thought. “Suspicious how?”
“Do you think we could meet somewhere? I’m busy today, but maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure. Do you want to come into our offices or would you prefer to meet in a coffee shop somewhere?”
“I don’t really want to come into your offices. How about Coffee Triangle?”
“Won’t it be a bit noisy in there?”
“You’re right. How about Aroma?”
“I don’t know that one, but don’t worry, I’ll find it. What time?”
“Say two?”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
***
Susan had decided to bite the bullet, and go see her mother. She’d deliberately chosen a time when she knew her father wouldn’t be in. Flynn had said she could work her own hours, so she was going to take him at his word.
From the outside, her parents’ house looked exactly the same as the last time she’d been there—almost three years ago. She hesitated at the front door; this wasn’t going to be easy.
“Susan? Come in.” Her mother beamed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? And why did you ring the bell? You know you can come straight in. Let’s go through to the lounge. Do you want a drink?”
“No, I’m okay, thanks.”
They sat together on the sofa.
“Is everything okay?” Her mother asked. “What are you doing back in Washbridge?”
“I’ve moved back here.”
“What?” Her mother was clearly shocked. “Permanently?”
“As permanent as anything ever is. I’ve got a job up here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? You must have known the last time we spoke on the phone. Where are you living?”
“I’ve got a flat-share just outside of Washbridge. It’s the old sock factory. It’s been converted into loft-style apartments.”
“How long have you been living there?”
“I moved in yesterday. I’ve been staying in a motel.”
“Why didn’t you come and stay here?”
“You know why.”
“Because of your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“You and he will have to talk sooner or later.”
“I’m happy to talk to him, Mum, but you know what he’s like. He doesn’t talk to me; he talks at me. I get that he doesn’t approve of my choice of career, and doesn’t like journalists, but this is my life. It has nothing to do with him.”
“You’re right, but your dad’s obstinate. He’ll come around eventually. I’m so glad you’re here. What made you decide to come back?”
“The newspaper where I was working folded. I was looking around for something else, and happened to mention it to Dreams. She was the one who told me about the job.”
“Dreams knows you’re back?”
“Yeah, but don’t blame her for not telling you. I told her not to say anything.”
“What about your brothers? Do they know?”
“Nobody knows. Apart from you and Dreams.”
Susan and her mother talked for a good hour. They’d always been close, which was more than could be said for her relationship with her father. Her mother tried to convince her to stay until he came home, so they could try to clear the air, but Susan wasn’t ready to face him yet.
***
By the time she got back to the apartment, the other three were already there, seated in the lounge.
“Hi, you three. I’m glad I’ve caught you all together. I mentioned to Dorothy this morning that it might be an idea for us to hold an FM—err—sorry, a flatmates’ meeting. Anyway, seeing as we’re all here, maybe we could do it now. It’ll only take a few minutes. There’s just a few things we need to get sorted out. Is that okay?”
“Okay by me,” Charlie said.
“Why not?” Neil nodded.
Dorothy grunted.
Susan took a seat. “First off, I assume each of you has your own food cupboard?” They nodded. “Is there one I could use for mine?”
“You could use the top one on the right hand side,” Charlie said. “There’s only a couple of old pans in there.”
“They’re my pans!” Dorothy objected.
“Yeah, but you never use them, do you?” Charlie said.
“I might, one day.”
“There’s plenty of room for them under the sink. You could keep them in there.”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s settled, then,” Susan said. “I’ll take the top right-hand cupboard. The next thing is the fridge.”
“There are only three shelves,” Dorothy said. “So you’re out of luck.”
“Hold on,” Charlie said. “I don’t keep that much in the fridge. You could have half of my shelf, if you like. You take the right-hand side, and I’ll take the left.”
“Thanks. That’s very kind.” Susan wa
s warming to Charlie—even if he did look a little intimidating.
“Same here,” Neil offered. “I don’t really have that much in there. We can do the same with my shelf. You have the right hand side; I’ll have the left.”
“That’s very kind of you both. Thanks.”
Dorothy was just about to stand up when Susan said, “Just a second, Dorothy. There’s just one more thing, please.”
“What is it?” she snapped. “I have to paint my toenails.”
“It won’t take long.” I just wanted to talk about the housework. We’ve all got to live together, and I’m sure we’d all like the place to be clean and tidy. I thought I could draw up a simple rota—nothing too complicated. Who tidies the lounge area on a particular day, or who does the washing up on another day—that sort of thing. That way, we all do our fair share.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Charlie said. “I don’t see why not.”
Dorothy looked daggers at him.
“We can give it a go,” Neil said.
“Great!” Susan beamed. “I’ll go and draw something up. If we can get this agreed, we can start tomorrow.”
As soon as Susan had disappeared into her bedroom, Dorothy stood up, turned around, and glared first at Charlie and then at Neil.
“Traitors!”
Chapter 9
The next morning, the other three flatmates were still in bed when Susan got up. This seemed to be a pattern, but one she was quite happy with. It meant she could get in the shower without any hassle.
By the time she’d showered and dressed, the other three were up—dressed in PJs and dressing gowns. They all still looked half-asleep.
“Morning, everyone,” Susan called to them.
All she got back was a series of grunts. At least the grunts from Charlie and Neil sounded friendly; the one from Dorothy, not so much. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Susan that Dorothy didn’t want her there. She had no idea why, or what she’d done to upset her. Maybe Dorothy had enjoyed being the only female in the group, and felt that Susan was stepping on her toes. Whatever the reason, all Susan could do was try to be friendly, and hope that Dorothy would come around in time.
