The Little Vampire

by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg

  “Well, I’m sorry, but they couldn’t go in with that load. It’s all the dark things at the moment.”

  “All the dark things?” Tony could not help sounding anxious. “Was there anything of mine in there as well?”

  “Yes,” said his father unhelpfully.

  “Oh.” Tony paused. “What of mine?”

  “You’d better ask Mum about that.”

  “Where is she?”

  “In the living room. She’s doing the mendings.”

  “The mending?” Tony was really worried now. A new and equally perturbing thought had just occurred to him, as he remembered how many holes there were in the cloak. “Is she mending ... socks?” he asked hopefully.

  “Far from it,” smiled father. “She found an enormous bit of black cloth, full of holes ...”

  “Holes?” cried Tony. “Oh, no!” and he rushed off into the living room. He could not care less now if his father saw how worried he was.

  His mother was sitting by the window, and was busy trying to pull a long thick piece of black wool through the eye of a rather narrow needle. And on her lap lay ... Rudolph’s cloak!

  “Poof!” she said as Tony appeared. “This really stinks.”

  “It – it b-belongs to a friend of mine,” stuttered Tony.

  “I know,” smiled his mother. “The poor boy. It’s such a tattered old thing. The holes are big enough to stick your fingers through.”

  “I don’t think he wants them sewn up,” said Tony.

  “Why on earth do you think that?” asked his mother.

  “Well, he said so,” said Tony.

  In the meantime, his mother had finished darning the second hole, and was trying to thread the needle for the third. “I don’t believe it,” she said confidently. “No one would want to go around in anything as full of holes as this. Maybe he doesn’t have anyone to sew them up for him. No, no,” she said adamantly, “I’m quite sure he’ll be pleased to have it mended. What’s his name by the way?”

  “Rudolph,” grumbled Tony. He had already reached the door. What he really felt like doing was to howl with rage: it was all a plot, and Dad had just been acting so innocent. Well, just wait! He’d show them!

  “Do you want any lunch?” called Dad from the kitchen.

  “No,” said Tony.

  “The macaroni cheese’ll be ready in ten minutes!”

  “O.K.,” said Tony. He went back to his room and lay down on the bed. What a mean trick to have played on him, to pinch his cloak and darn it, without even asking him first. And not only that – to have gone on darning it, even when he’d specifically asked her to stop! Tony was angry with himself too for having left it lying around, even though he knew well that his parents always looked into his room in the morning to see if he was still asleep.

  But perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that his mother was mending the cloak. In fact, if it didn’t have so many holes, the vampire would probably be able to fly better in it. Mum was right after all, and he ought to be thankful for it!

  At that moment he heard his mother coming across the hall, so he quickly stood up and began to make his bed. He was just shaking out the pillows when she knocked on his door.

  “Tony?”

  “Yes. You can come in.”

  “Here,” said Mum. “One cloak, good as new!”

  “Thanks,” muttered Tony. He took the cloak from her and put it on a chair.

  “I’d have like to have wash it,” went on his mother. “But then it wouldn’t have dried for a long time. And Rudolph wants it back soon, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does,” said Tony quickly.

  “Why don’t you take it over to him today then?”

  “Today? Oh, well –” Tony was at a loss for words. “He’s – er, sleeping today.”

  “What?” laughed his mother. “Do you know how late it is?”

  “Lunch is ready!” called Dad from the kitchen.

  “He really is a funny friend, if he sleeps all day,” said Mom, giving Tony a searching look. “You must tell us more about him during lunch.”

  “Oh. Er, I’m not very hungry today,” said Tony, even though his tummy was churning in anticipation of the macaroni cheese.

  “Nonsense!” said Mum, and Dad called, “He hasn’t even had breakfast yet!”

  “Oh, all right,” grumbled Tony. In any case, macaroni cheese was his favourite lunch, although today he didn’t really feel like it. He thought worriedly how it would be at the table, when every mouthful would be punctuated by questions as to why Rudolph slept so late.

  “Good, isn’t it?” said Dad, who was already on his second helping.

  “Delicious!” agreed Mum. “Tony doesn’t seem to be enjoying it much, though.” Tony felt himself go red. “Tell me,” said Mum suddenly. “What’s Rudolph’s surname?”

  Tony’s heart stood still. “Why?”

  “Why? Because I’m interested, that’s all.”

  “Bagg,” muttered Tony.

  “What?” Tony’s mother could not believe it. “Rudolph Bagg?”

  “Sackville-Bagg, actually,” corrected Tony. “Rudolph Sackville-Bagg.”

  “That’s even worse,” laughed Dad.

  “Tony Peasbody isn’t much better,” said Tony, heatedly.

  “Now, now,” grinned Dad. “We’re all called Peasbody, you know.”

  “Yes. But it’s all right for you!” cried Tony. “You’re grown-ups. People don’t laugh at you!”

  “Just be thankful you’re not called Peasbody-Bagg,” remarked Mum.

  But Tony did not think that was particularly funny. Grumpily, he fixed his eyes on his plate. They were always laughing at him.

  “Tony,” said his mother, “where’s your sense of humour?”

  “Can I get down?” was all Tony could reply.

  “In a moment,” said his mother. “What are you going to do about the cloak? Will you take it over now?”

  “Er – O.K.,” said Tony.

  “I could drive you over there,” offered Dad.

  “Over where?”

  “To your friend’s house, of course,” said Dad. “I’ll be going past the cemetery.”

  “Th-the cemetery?” Tony had gone white as a sheet.

  “I thought you said he lived near the cemetery?” said his mother.

  “Y-yes, he does,” murmured Tony.

  “Well, then you can show me where exactly,” said Dad.

  “And ask him over,” added Mum.

  “B-but ...” stuttered Tony helplessly. “He’ll still be asleep, and anyway, I feel like a walk ...”

  “Good heavens!” exploded his father. “Tony Peasbody feels like a walk. This is a special occasion.”

  “Let him then,” said his mother, and turning to Tony she added: “But if you go by yourself, I insist you invite him over here. We want to meet him!” She paused for a moment. “Ask him for Wednesday. Then I’ll be able to make a cake for tea.”

  “I-I’ll be off then.” Tony backed away.

  “Don’t forget the cloak,” called Mum. “And remember: Wednesday, at four o’clock!”

  The Heart-shaped Gravestones

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON FROM LUNCHTIME until four o’clock was the most boring time of the whole week, thought Tony – it always seemed to go so slowly! Up till one o’clock everything smelled deliciously of the Sunday lunch, but that was quickly eaten up, and then everyone went to sleep. From then on, children must preferably not be seen, and certainly not be heard! Playing football in the street or zooming around on your bicycle were not worth the risk!

  So when Tony took the lift down to the ground floor, it was not surprising to find it completely empty. The street was dead quiet too. Not a car passed. Tony wandered along, balancing on the kurb and swinging the plastic bag with the cloak in it. He knew that his parents were standing on the balcony waving to him, but he stared stonily in front of him. They could wave till the cows came home for all he cared. It would teach them if he never came back ali
ve! In fact, he was rather vague about what exactly he was going to do at the graveyard. How on earth was he going to get the cloak into the tomb in the daylight? And how on earth was he supposed to invite Rudolph to tea? Should he leave a note? Luckily he had thought of this, and had brought a pad of paper and a pencil with him. But he was pretty sure that there was no letter-box at the tomb. And if he were to go into the vault himself, and leave the note on Ru­dolph’s coffin, the other vampires would be sure to wake up, and then what would happen? Tony walked more and more slowly the nearer he got to the cemetery. Finally he came to a standstill. He knitted his brows and stood deep in thought.

  “Hi, Tony!” came a voice.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, and blinked. Before him stood Nigel, a boy from the fifth form whose nick­name was “Blabber Mouth” because he was always gossiping.

  “What brings you here is more to the point,” he said, stand­ing with legs apart and arms folded.

  “I’m ...” Tony tried to be vague. “I’m just going for a walk around here.” That was a very stupid answer, he knew, and he realized it would not satisfy Nigel, but he had not been able to think of anything better in time. He wondered if he should have told him the truth, but Nigel would never have believed him. If he had, he might have disappeared without further persuasion.

  “I’m just going for a walk around here!” mimicked Nigel with a sneer. “Can’t you think of a better reason than that?”

  “Yeah,” said Tony. “I’m going to visit a friend of mine.”

  “Anyone I know?” asked Nigel with menace in his voice.

  “Doubt it,” said Tony cheekily, “unless you know any vampires!”

  Just for a moment Nigel was too taken aback to reply, but then he said scornfully, “Vampires! That’s a good one! I’ll think I’m at the flicks next!” He shook his head, and then towered menacingly over Tony. “Just clear off, you! And don’t let me catch you wandering around here again!”

  “O.K., O.K.,” said Tony. “Don’t lose your cool, man.” And he went on his way, swinging the bag and whistling. Nigel must not think that he had frightened him, even if he was two forms above him. He reached the wall of the cemetery without looking back. It was painted white and so high that Tony could only see the tops of the yew trees over it. Just before he reached the gates, he stopped and looked furtively around, but Nigel had vanished. Tony waited for another minute or two, but when still nothing happened, he opened the gate and slid inside.

  The silence of the cemetery stole over him, and he was aware of the smell of earth and flowers. Not so bad after all, thought Tony, and feeling less spooky, he walked on. If it had not been for the many crosses and gravestones, with crazy things like ‘Rest in Peace’ engraved on them, he might have thought he was walking through the park. The only odd thing was that he did not see anybody else, but perhaps Sunday afternoon was not the right time for visiting graveyards. Never mind, it was all the better for him – he could be sure of not being disturbed.

  He went on down the main pathway. He had been here before with his mother, when she came to see that all was well with their relatives’ graves. So he already knew that the wilder part of the cemetery began behind the chapel, which lay ahead of him at the end of the path. He always thought this chapel looked rather cosy; it was built like a normal house, except that it didn’t have any windows, only an enormous door made of iron. And although the chapel itself looked old and weathered, at the door hung a brand new and obviously frequently used padlock, which Tony found the strangest thing of all, because not once had he ever seen anyone go in or come out of the place.

  Today he crept past the building with an uneasy feeling in his tummy. Nothing had changed about it, even the padlock gleamed in the afternoon sun. He wondered whether the chapel was empty. And if it wasn’t, what was lurking inside? Nothing pleasant, he decided, and was reminded of the story Night in the Morgue, which he had read not long before: a man had spent a night in a morgue in order to win a bet, and at first had thought he was alone. But when the moonlight shone in through the window, one of the cabinets had begun to open, and out came ... Tony felt a cold shudder run down his spine at the thought, even though the sun was shining!

  Suddenly, he was in a hurry to drop the cloak and get out of the cemetery. Who knew what might be lurking there? Vampires weren’t the only things Tony read about – in fact they were probably the most harmless – what about the bodies that weren’t really dead? Tony had once read about a woman who knocked at the lid of her coffin in increasing despair, until finally she died of exhaustion.

  Toni quickened his steps. If anyone were to start knocking, he, Tony, certainly would not go to investigate! The best thing would be to run so fast that he wouldn’t even hear a knocking. He hadn’t forgotten old Aunt Dorothy in the vault the night before.

  By now, Tony had left the part of the cemetery where the paths were raked and the hedges neatly trimmed. Here, behind the chapel, the grass grew knee-high, and he had to make his way through brushwood and weeds. But he could see the wall of the cemetery in the distance. The yew tree must be around here somewhere, and with it, the entrance to the vault. As he went further, he suddenly thought he could hear steps on the gravel behind him. A cold shiver ran through him. Who or what could be following him? Something that had come out of the chapel?

  But the next moment everything was quiet again, and he dared to look around – the cemetery lay still and quiet as before. He must have imagined the footsteps; after all, it was pretty lonely here, and it wasn’t surprising you began to imagine things!

  Tony nearly stumbled over a gravestone that lay hidden in the grass. It was an unusual stone, in the form of a heart. And across it in flourishing, barely legible letters was written: “Frederick Sackville-Bagg, 1803–1850.” Tony shivered, for if these dates were right, Rudolph’s father had already been dead for over a hundred years! A few paces farther on he discovered another stone, also in the shape of a heart, which bore the inscription: “Thelma Sackville-Bagg, 1804–1851,” and nearby he found the grandparents’ stones: “Sabina Sackville-Bagg, 1781–1847,” and “William Sackville-Bagg, 1780–1848.” A metre or two further on lay the gravestone of Great-Aunt Dorothy, and near that, Uncle Theodore. And each one was in the same heart-shape. Tony thought it was altogether too pretentious. What on earth was the heart supposed to mean, anyhow? First, love – Tony giggled – and second, blood! Everyone knew that it was the heart that pumped blood through the body.

  As Tony compared the dates it occurred to him that the vampires had all died in a particular order, and all within a year of one another: first Sabina, then William, Thelma, Frederick, Dorothy, and Theodore. Did that mean that each one had ...? And what about the children? Who had ...? Where were their gravestones anyway?

  Tony looked and looked, but he could only find ordinary grey stones that certainly were not covering any vampire’s grave. Perhaps the little vampire and his sister just didn’t have any stones. They were probably the last of the Sackville-Baggs to die, and there was no one left to give them a proper vampire burial. As he was musing about this, he heard a rustling in the bushes near him, and turning round, he saw the grinning face of Nigel.

  “You?” was the only thing he could think of to say.

  “That’s surprised you!” Nigel pushed his way out of the bush with a complacent grin on his face. “Why do you look so scared? Did you think I was a ghost?”

  “Er – I,” murmured Tony, “I thought it was ...”

  “A monster!” smirked Nigel.

  “No! I thought it was my friend,” explained Tony.

  “We arranged to meet here, but he hasn’t turned up yet.” He wondered if Nigel would believe him, but he couldn’t think of any better explanation at the time.

  “Oh, yeah? Think I buy that?” said Nigel scornfully, and then, pinching hold of Tony’s chin and forcing his eyes up to meet his own, he continued: “You think I’m stupid or something?”

  “Ow!” protes
ted Tony, but Nigel pinched even harder.

  “You watch it,” he said menacingly. “Just tell me what’s going on here.”

  “Leave off first,” demanded Tony.

  “O.K.,” agreed Nigel, and took a step backwards. “So?”

  “I wasn’t lying,” said Tony. “I really am meeting a friend here.”

  “And what’s this friend called?”

  “Rudolph. Rudolph Sackville-Bagg.”

  Nigel’s expression became suspicious again. “And what are you both up to in the graveyard?”

  Tony’s mind worked feverishly. On no account must he mention the vault, for Nigel would surely blab, and then the whole vampire clan would be lost.

  “We – er, we were going to look for vampire graves!” he said finally.

  “Vampire graves,” scoffed Nigel, with a yawn. “Kids’ fairy tales!”

  “No, no,” protested Tony. “There were meant to be vampires in Rudolph’s family way back!”

  “Ha, ha!” said Nigel loudly but not sounding the least bit amused.

  “There’s something special about their graves,” went on Tony.

  That seemed to catch Nigel’s attention. “Something special?” he echoed.

  “Yeah. The gravestones.” Tony let his voice sink to a whisper. “They’re in the shape of a heart.”

  “A heart?” echoed Nigel.

  “Don’t you see?” explained Tony. “Hearts mean blood!”

  Nigel’s lips curved in a scornful smile. “What rubbish,” he said. “You’d never find even half a gravestone in the shape of a heart.”

  Tony had to make an effort not to laugh out loud. “We’ll see, we’ll see,” he giggled. “And anyway, it doesn’t hurt to look.”

  “So why weren’t you looking?” asked Nigel unkindly.

  “Because I was waiting for my friend,” said Tony patiently.

  One thing was good, anyway: he had turned Nigel’s interest to the gravestones. He could see that Nigel was intrigued, because he kept shifting from foot to foot.

  “Shall we bet on it?” said Nigel at last. “Fifty pence for you if we find the gravestones, and seventy-five pence for me if we don’t.”