"Yes. And no."
"Oh?"
"Perdita."
"Ugh. More Shakespeare?"
She nodded miserably.
"Well, Sylvia Perdita, you could refuse to answer to 'Sylvia'. Choose your own name. Why not something normal like 'Anne' or 'Mary' or 'Liz'?"
Sylvie made a face. "If I'm honest," she admitted slowly, "I'd like to be—don't you dare laugh, Karl—I'd like to be a 'Kylie'."
He was definitely pressing his lips hard together.
She punched him lightly on the arm. "I told you not to laugh, you beast."
He ignored that. "I don't think 'Kylie' is you at all. You deserve something with more—um—more atmosphere to it. Especially if you're coming to Whitby."
"I said I'll think about it. I'm still thinking. Don't push your luck."
He ignored that, as well. He stroked his forehead with two long white fingers. "Something with a bit of history to it. Medieval, maybe? Yup! Got it! Your mother picked the wrong composer." He smiled at her in a way that made her go all warm and treacly inside. "Wagner is your answer, sweetheart. History and myth coming out of his ears. Change your name to 'Isolde'."
Something gave a tiny squeak. Sylvie jumped. "Oh, God. Are there mice here somewhere?" She shivered. "I hate mice. They give me the heebie-jeebies."
"You're imagining it," he said reassuringly, without even glancing round to check. "It was probably my boot squeaking on the floorboards. Fancy patent jobs—" he lifted one foot to show off his shiny black boots "—and leather soles do squeak. I'll try not to do it again. Promise." He opened his arms to her and, without a moment's hesitation, she walked into his embrace. She let herself be enveloped in the silky black folds so that he could kiss his newly-christened Isolde into forgetfulness.
Chapter Four
After a whole day of reading Pratchett, I'd been enjoying a bit of low-key hunting well away from the beach. Nothing to panic the locals, of course. Taking a little blood from a sleeping victim does no long-term harm and most of them don't even notice the puncture marks when they wake up.
But then I'd had second thoughts. What if William turned up again tonight, looking for me? So I came back early, just in time to see my visitors going into the beach hut. Not good. What if William opened the door and saw? I knew he was pretty clued-up for eight, but did he know what really went on between a man and a woman when it came to hand-to-hand combat?
I didn't want to be responsible for educating him if he didn't already know about the way the (human) world went round.
So I hung around—not as a bat all the time, in case you're wondering—on the off chance that the boy would turn up. I had a feeling he would.
And he did. At ten minutes to midnight.
He was at the door before I realised. He even had his hand on the knob.
"William," I hissed, not wanting my voice to carry into the hut, "I'm over here."
He swung round and grinned. He looked delighted to see me, which was a bit of an eye-opener. Humans aren't normally delighted to see vampires, even humans who know they're not potential prey. Was I really going to have an eight-year-old human for a friend? It was going to take me a while to get used to that. Weird, or what?
"Theo." Being so young, he had a high-pitched voice and he wasn't trying to keep the decibels down, either.
"Shhh." I put my finger to my lips and beckoned him over.
He trotted obediently across the sand. "What's going on, Theo?" William was clearly a born conspirator. He'd dropped his voice to a whisper. His eyes were eager.
"Your beach hut's—um—occupied. There's a couple of people in there."
"How did they get in? Did you leave the door unlocked?"
For once, I was totally innocent. I'd never used a key. A bat can wriggle through the tiniest of cracks. But William's question made me realise I'd overlooked something vital. How had they got inside? There was no sign of forced entry.
I decided to be a little economical with the truth. At least until I knew more about what was going on. "They were inside the beach hut when I got back." That was true enough. I'd heard their voices. And I'd caught a glimpse of the girl as she closed the door. "A man and a girl. I think—"
"Ah," said my friend in a voice that sounded much too worldly-wise for eight, "I see. You didn't want me to open the door in case I caught them in flagrante."
For a moment, I couldn't say a word. It wasn't only his precocious knowledge of sex that got to me; it was the casual use of Latin. I began to wonder how many books this minuscule brainbox might have read. And which library he'd got them from.
He talked on to fill the silence. "What are they like? Young? Old? Is she pretty?"
"Aren't you a bit young to be interested in girls, William?" I was trying to delay the moment when he would start adding two and two.
"Academic interest only, Theo. Puberty's still a few years off for me. Especially as I'm small."
His lending library clearly included medical books as well as Pratchett. So I decided to stick to the facts and see what conclusions my budding Sherlock might come to.
"She's young and very pretty. Black curly hair and a beautiful peaches-and-cream complexion. Blue eyes. Long legs in tight jeans."
"But that sounds like—" He screwed up his eyes at me. "Does she have a name, Theo?" He sounded mistrustful. And also a bit annoyed.
"I heard him call her 'Sylve', I think." Well, it was the truth. And he had asked.
He plumped down on the sand and dug his fingers into it, drawing vague patterns. After a while, he said sadly, not looking up at me, "Sylvie. I told you, she's my sister. She's using the beach hut because she's got a spare key."
I'd suspected as much. And now, to be brutally honest, I hadn't a clue what to do. Why was he upset that his big sister was—er—cavorting with her boyfriend? William had seemed so grown-up before. Now, not so much. Playing for time, I suggested we both go for a walk along the beach. I was hoping, I admit, that the couple would have left by the time we got back. I didn't want William's sister to have an encounter with a vampire. It might get messy.
And a bit too shrill for comfort.
We'd gone a good two hundred yards before William said anything at all. "What's Sylvie's boyfriend like?"
"Sorry, William. Can't help you there. I didn't see him. Only her." Strictly speaking, that was true, though I knew a lot from what I'd overheard while I was clinging to the roof outside. William was already pretty down. I didn't want to push him any lower.
"But you heard his voice?"
"Yes. But you can't tell much from voices. Except that he's a grown-up. He sounds older. And quite educated."
"That figures. Sylvie's really clever, you see. She gets bored with people who can't keep up with her. She's going to Oxford in the autumn." He sounded very proud of her. Was he worried that a boyfriend might spike her plans? If so, he was even shrewder than I'd thought.
"Oxford, eh? She must be very bright." I didn't tell him that she might be going to Whitby first. I'd overheard her muttering about preparing for exams so it seemed she knew the risks, too. More than one young lass had got carried away by the joys of the full Goth experience, especially in the company of a persuasive lover. Would Sylvie throw away her future for a fantasy in black make-up?
William would want me to stop her, if he knew what she was planning.
Should I tell him?
No point. She hadn't made up her mind yet. Besides, she might get bored with lover-boy long before the Goth weekend. If she had any sense, she'd dump him. He was a complete pillock. Patronising and pretentious. Isolde? Honestly, I ask you!
I admit I had an ulterior motive. If the lovebirds planned on being in the beach hut every night, it would limit my nocturnal options more than somewhat. Vampires do need privacy, you know, and I'd planned on the beach hut providing mine when I wasn't out hunting. It would do nothing for my image if anyone found out that I do needlepoint when I'm at a loose end.
Change of plan?
Nah, not if I could help it. Perhaps I could nudge Sylvie towards ditching lover-boy? If I needed a partner in crime, I was pretty sure William would be up for it.
He broke into my mental planning with a new suggestion. "You should meet Sylvie, Theo. You'd like her."
I shook my head. "Don't think that's a good idea, William. Females don't react too well to vampires. Lots of screaming, usually. Tends to rouse the neighbourhood."
"But—"
"No. I like being in Little Piddling. It's peaceful here on the beach. And I want it to stay that way."
Even by moonlight, I could see that William wasn't convinced. More trouble. What had I let myself in for, when I befriended a human? I should have remembered how badly it had turned out the first time.
"You wouldn't…you wouldn't fang Sylvie, would you, Theo?"
First his mother, now his sister. Great. For an eight-year-old, he was pretty demanding. But I didn't have a choice, did I? "No. I promise your sister is safe with me."
"Oh, good. Well, in that case, I'll tell her all about you. And you can meet her some other night. When she's not with…him." He glanced back towards the beach hut. And there was real, focused venom in that look.
"That's all very well, but will she believe you? Grown-ups tend to think that vampires aren't real, you know. If I have to show her my fangs to—er—get the point across, she'll probably faint on the spot."
"Your puns are rubbish, Theo. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"
"Thank you," I said politely.
"You're welcome." He grinned up at me like the evil little demon he so clearly was. "Anyway, Sylvie's not a wimp. She wouldn't faint. I don't think she'd scream, either. She'd probably try to slug you. She does kick-boxing, you know."
That was certainly different. "Does she, now? I'll bear that in mind." His sister was becoming more intriguing by the minute. "How old is she, by the way?"
"Nearly nineteen."
That was a big age gap. "Are there any more of you at home? Besides Sylvie, I mean?"
"No. Sylvie was an only for a long time. And I was an accident." He was very matter-of-fact about a failing of birth control.
That was when I made my mind up. If anyone could convince Sylvie that Theo the vampire was real but—crucially—no threat to her, William was the one to do it. I took a long, slow breath. "I'll meet her—"
"That's great—"
"—but there are conditions. Your beach hut door stays open. She has to feel she can run away. You'll have to bring her at night, too, well after midnight. We don't want there to be anyone else around."
William nodded wisely. He didn't seem to have noticed the problem.
"Won't that betray your great secret? You know—the tree?"
William chuckled and shook his head. "Sylvie used to do it herself when she was my age. Who do you think taught me? Sylvie would never tell on me."
Oh. Not so grown-up after all, if she did nothing to stop a little boy going off on his own in the middle of the night and tangling with all sorts of undesirables.
Like vampires.
But I'd been well and truly suckered in. "And you have to do your very best to convince her that I really am a vampire. Before she comes. Think you can do that?"
He didn't hesitate at all. "Oh yes."
"Cocky little blighter, aren't you?"
He beamed. "Yup. That's just what Dad says. But if you think I'm bad, wait till you've met my sister."
Sometimes, even centuries of experience aren't enough to prepare you for dealing with humans.
Chapter Five
Sylvie turned up in the small hours of Wednesday morning, with William in tow. It was about quarter to one. She was wearing a long skirt instead of jeans. Disappointing. It meant I couldn't admire her stunning legs.
Does that surprise you? I may be a vampire, but I can still admire a good-looking woman, you know. We vampires are famous for our love of beauty, in all its forms. And Sylvie certainly qualified.
She looked me up and down assessingly. I couldn't see any signs of fear, or even caution. Perhaps that was to be expected. William had warned me that she was like him, only worse. And she was a kick-boxer, too.
"Nice gear, Mr—er—Theo." She waved a hand at my cape. "You getting set up for Whitby, too?"
I had to laugh. "No. Whitby's for people who like play-acting. I imagine William has told you? I'm not putting on an act. I'm the real deal."
She smiled indulgently in the direction of her little brother. "Yes, he did try very hard to convince me that his friend Theo was a real vampire but—you know what?—he didn't quite manage it."
"No? How come?"
"Because if you were a real vampire, William here would be a bloodless corpse on the sand by now. And he's not, is he?"
"That's because Theo promised not to fang me," William protested, before I could get a word in.
"Oh. Oh, right." She was trying not to laugh at him.
"And he promised not to fang you, either, Sylvie. I wouldn't have brought you here if he hadn't."
"Good of you, Mr Theo."
"I prefer Theo," I replied politely. "Just Theo." I could see where this was going. So I needed to keep things calm and restrained. Until they weren't.
"And you should call her 'Sylvie', Theo."
"No, he shouldn't. My name is 'Isolde'. I'm not going to answer to Sylvie any more. I've always hated it. So I'm changing my name."
William grinned wickedly as he considered that. "Have you told Dad?" He chortled. "No, you can't have. We'd have heard the explosion from here."
Sylvie had reddened a fraction. "I'll tell Dad when I'm good and ready. And don't you dare say anything in the meantime, you little monster."
William drew himself up. He was still a good foot shorter than she was. "The only monster in this beach hut," he said, with emphasis, "is Theo." He turned to me. "You're going to have to give her the fang bit, Theo, or she'll never believe in you."
I didn't move a muscle.
He tugged at her arm. "But whatever you do, Sylvie—Isolde—please don't scream. Promise you won't?"
Sylvie shook him off with the sort of look that only much older sisters can give to little boys.
William ignored that and turned expectantly to me.
Well, what choice did I have? To borrow William's picturesque naval slang, I gave her the full nine yards.
Her eyes widened so much, there was almost no blue to be seen. She made a noise that was a cross between a strangled gulp and a groan but, thankfully, nowhere near a scream. She recoiled a few steps, too, and grabbed for the wall. On the whole, she reacted as staunchly as William had predicted. No screams, no fainting. No attempt to slug me, either, which was just as well, since I'd rashly promised she'd be safe with me. I was beginning to regret that. What's the point of having superhuman strength if you can't fight back when someone punches you?
William had clearly decided he now needed to take charge of the proceedings. "Told you so. Maybe next time you'll believe me?"
Pompous little toad. I thought for a moment that she was going to thump him rather than me. He would have deserved it, too.
Instead, she took a deep breath and straightened. She still had one hand on the wall for support, though. "I…I think I owe you both an apology," she managed, with commendable dignity. "I didn't believe vampires existed. Now I…I think I do."
Remarkable. And not at all what I'd expected.
I bowed to her. I knew it was the only thing to do. "In my very long life, Isolde, I have met only one adult human—another lady, as it happens—with as much courage as you have. I salute you."
She coloured again, more than before. "I—er— Um." She swallowed hard. "Thank you, Theo." Like her brother, she had obviously been brought up to be polite.
I smiled at her. No fangs. Definitely no fangs. "Please don't be afraid, Isolde. I promised your brother you'd be safe with me." I frowned down at William. "I promised he would be, too, though there are times when I rather
wish I hadn't."
"That's one of his jokes, Sylvie," William said quickly. "Sorry—Isolde."
"No, you'd better stick to 'Sylvie'. Until I've told Dad." The corner of her mouth quirked into a rueful smile.
William had said she was clever. But she was practical, too. In my experience, the two don't always go together. But Sylvie/Isolde was both, and easy on the eye as well. I wondered idly how Oxford would cope with this phenomenon.
She looked me up and down. She'd recovered a lot of poise very quickly. "I take it," she said, musingly, "that I'm not supposed to let on that there's a vampire squatting in our beach hut?"
"Of course not." William sounded outraged. "You—"
"Keep it down, William. I'm sure your sister wouldn't betray your trust. Or mine." I was trying to sound confident but, if William hadn't had the nous to extract a promise of secrecy from her in advance, we could both be in deep trouble. Had he?
Sylvie smiled.
I knew then that William had failed me. I didn't trust that smile one inch. It was a conspirator's smile.
"Well, I could keep your secret, Theo. But there are conditions."
No surprise there. "Let's have them," I said.
"First, you have to agree to vacating the beach hut on the evenings when I might want to use it."
"Every evening, Isolde?" I didn't ask what she wanted the beach hut for—I thought I already knew that—and I didn't mention lover-boy, either.
"No. Every other night should do, I think. I've already got plans to be here tonight, so you can have it, starting from tomorrow night. OK?" When I nodded, she went on, "And secondly, you have to tell me all about the other female with courage."
"What? No. No way. It's none of your business."
She crossed her arms and stared me out. "That's the deal. You tell me, or I start to scream the place down. On the count of three. One…"
I couldn't shut her up without using force. What choice did I have?
On the count of two, I gave in.
Then I struggled for a bit to get my thoughts in order. Vampires don't normally have bosom buddies to confide in, you understand, so I'd never done this before. The truth was I really, really didn't want to go there. But the memories and feelings came flooding back anyway. They hurt. Like the devil.
Beach Hut Surprise: Escape to Little Piddling this summer — six feel-good beach reads to make you smile, or even laugh out loud Page 25