Mrs Chalker’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight as she looked around the garden. Her eyes were like searchlights sweeping left and right.
She can see me, thought Alfie. I’m sure of it. That witch looks straight through darkness. Next thing I know she’ll be burning holes in my fur with those creepy eyes of hers.
He pressed his muzzle against the ground and froze.
‘Ah, my beautiful garden,’ Mrs Chalker whispered. ‘I love all your little flowers and all your little blades of grass. I even love your naughty little weeds and thistles. Just look how wild you’ve grown. I’ve neglected you for far too long. Oh yes, I have! And it was all my own fault. I was a wicked woman. Bad, bad Chalker!’
She gave herself a slap on the cheek. WHAP!
‘Ow! But I’ve changed, dear moon. Thanks to the loving care of the RCUPA.’
Alfie couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t dare to look up, but what had happened to Mrs Chalker? There was a loud honking noise, like an elephant farting. Alfie pushed aside a leafy branch and peered at the window. Mrs Chalker was flapping a floral handkerchief. Tears ran down her cheeks and a gleaming thread of snot hung from her nose.
Yuck, thought Alfie. Moonlit Chalker juice.
Mrs Chalker looked back up at the moon. ‘I have to protect the children,’ she blubbered. ‘All of them. Especially the werewolf children. I have to warn them, dear moon. They’re in terrible danger.’ Mrs Chalker sighed deeply. ‘I’m afraid no one will believe me. They still hate me. And I can’t blame them. But I must warn them! Otherwise horrible things will happen.’ She peered around the garden again. Creak-crack. Then she banged the window shut. Alfie stayed where he was, motionless.
He wondered if it was a trap. Is she about to leap out with her umbrella?
The curtains were drawn. The light was off.
Alfie crawled over the ground and through the weeds, looking back over his shoulder the whole time, but the window stayed dark and Mrs Chalker was nowhere in sight. As if she had just been a ghost. Alfie stood up, totally confused.
‘Did I hear right? Has Mrs Chalker suddenly turned good?’ He shook his head. ‘I have to go straight to Grandpa Werewolf.’
He tore off down the street.
12
Rowing Boat
It was quiet in Werewolf Wood. The full moon shone silently through the branches and the leaves swayed gently in the breeze.
Suddenly there was a rustling sound. Alfie was running under the tall trees, kicking up leaves.
‘Wrow, Grandpa, where are you?’
No answer came, but Alfie heard something else. Voices. A song he knew.
‘Rub, rub, rub away,
If they cry or shout,
Rubbedy, rubbedy, rubbedy, rubbedy,
Rub the last one out.’
Without stopping to think, Alfie dived behind a bush. That song again, he thought, peering through the leaves.
The singing grew louder. Thin shadows moved in the moonlight. They were coming down the path and singing with grating voices.
For a second Alfie’s heart stopped. It looked like Mrs Chalker. And he was seeing double. What was going on? He rubbed his eyes, but there really were two of her. And they were carrying a rowing boat on their shoulders.
Wow, those old ladies are super strong, thought Alfie. What are they doing carrying a rowing boat around Werewolf Wood this late at night?
The two ladies came closer. Alfie held his breath. Checked slippers shuffled past the bush he was hiding behind.
‘Rub them out!’ screeched one of the women.
‘Kill them dead,’ yelled the other.
‘Make an ashtray from the head,’ they sang together.
Then they both giggled very loudly.
Alfie stayed where he was and didn’t move. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut while the singing slowly disappeared into the distance. What did it all mean?
13
Old Dears
Tim had never had an argument with Alfie before and now he tossed and turned under his duvet. Lying on his left. Right. Stomach. Back. His nose itched. He had cramp in his leg.
Finally he couldn’t stand it any more. He slipped out of bed, pulled on his slippers, walked to Alfie’s room and knocked quietly on the door.
‘Alfie, can I come in?’
No answer. Gently, Tim pushed open the door, revealing an empty bed and an open window. The full moon cast a big spot of light on the floor. Tim slapped himself on the forehead.
‘Of course, it’s full moon. I put the cross on the calendar myself. I forgot all about it! Alfie is outside somewhere as a werewolf.’ Tim shuffled downstairs sadly, wishing Alfie was home. I need to make it up with him, he thought, otherwise I’ll never get back to sleep. He’s my best friend, my adopted brother.
Downstairs in the hall, he heard the sound of a waterfall. ‘Alfie, is that you?’
The toilet door opened and Dad emerged.
‘Ooph,’ said Tim, pinching his nose shut.
Dad grimaced. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have finished off those beans.’ He was wearing a wetsuit and a diving mask. Mum and Dad had recently bought a waterbed and normal pyjamas just didn’t seem right to him any more. Instead of slippers he was wearing flippers.
He stared at Tim with surprise. ‘What are you doing up this late anyway?’
Tim hesitated.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Why’s that?’
Tim looked down at his feet. ‘I had a fight with Alfie and, um …’ He fell silent.
Dad scratched behind his ear thoughtfully. ‘I understand. If you’ve had a fight, it’s hard to sleep.’
Tim nodded.
‘What did you argue about?’
Tim kept his eyes on his feet and shrugged. He didn’t dare say.
‘A-ha, you can’t tell me,’ Dad said. ‘Where’s Alfie now?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Tim said. ‘Maybe Werewolf Wood.’
Suddenly they heard noise from outside. Voices.
‘What’s that?’ Dad said. ‘Is that Alfie?’
Tim ran to the front door. Dad slid the mask down over his eyes.
‘Wait, Tim, I’ll come with you,’ he called, following Tim in his flippers. He looked like a penguin wearing a diving mask.
The moment the front door opened, the voices were clearer.
‘Rub, rub, rub-a-dub.
Rub them out in waves …’
Astonished, Tim and Dad walked into the garden. Standing in the road next to a parked car were two skinny figures. Little old ladies with a rowing boat on top of their car. With grating voices, they sang their strange song.
‘Rubbedy, rubbedy, rubbedy, rubbedy,
Till they’re in their graves.’
The crones looked at each other and cackled with laughter.
‘What are those old dears doing out on the street so late at night?’ Dad asked. ‘And why is their singing so loud and horrible? They should take me and my accordion as an example.’
The ladies suddenly stopped singing and jerked their heads round. The moonlight gleamed yellow in their eyes as they hunched their shoulders and curled their fingers like claws. Slowly they began to shuffle silently towards Dad and Tim …
14
Where is everyone?
Alfie emerged from behind the bush. The women were gone. They’d marched out of the forest with the rowing boat on their shoulders. Alfie had heard the sound of a car and then he’d waited behind the bush for another ten minutes just to be on the safe side. I have to get to Grandpa Werewolf’s fast, he thought.
Grandpa lived in a brand-new treehouse that Leo had built for him. It was a fantastic home with a super-deluxe lift made of planks and ropes. Green patches painted on the outside made it almost invisible between the leaves and the branches. There was even room for the Scoffle, Grandpa’s mysterious pet.
Alfie dug his claws into the bark, climbed up quickly and knocked on the door.
No answer and no snoring either. Gran
dpa Werewolf probably wasn’t home. And the Scoffle was probably asleep too, in a corner somewhere or under Grandpa’s bed.
I’ll see if Leo is around, thought Alfie, lowering himself down from the tree and running back into the wood.
‘Leo! Where are you? Wake up, sleepyhead. Leeeee-ohhhhh!’ He stopped for a moment to howl at the moon. ‘Wrow-awooooo woohoo! The ancient cry of the werewolf.
Alfie listened. Nothing! Strange. Where are they? he thought. Where’s Grandpa Werewolf? Where’s Leo? And what about Noura? Why isn’t she here?
Suddenly a horrible thought rose up in him. Maybe she went to see that stupid Luke … He shook his head. Wrow, don’t think such stupid things, Alfie.
He ran on, climbing high in trees to peer through branches, sliding down – swish-swish – and running on even further. He poked his nose into hollow trees and peered into birds’ nests and badgers’ dens. Again Alfie howled at the moon.
It stayed quiet in Werewolf Wood. No werewolves answered.
Finally Alfie gave up and shuffled along the path sadly.
‘Wrow! What’s going on? Where is everyone?’
Suddenly something shot out from a bush and grabbed him by the ankle …
15
Rowing
‘Good evening, ladies,’ Dad said cheerfully.
The old women didn’t say a word, they just shuffled closer. The two of them looked awfully alike: hooked noses, long chins and funny-looking cardigans. One of them only had one eye. The other had just one ear. They slunk around Tim and Dad like two battle-scarred tomcats. Dad looked at Tim and shrugged.
‘It’s the middle of the night, ladies,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you afraid to be out so late?’
The oldies exchanged a glance then burst out laughing.
‘Afraid?’ said the lady with one eye.
‘Us?’ said the other one. ‘We’re not afraid of anything.’
‘Not werewolves, not vampires, not ghosts.’
The woman with one ear pointed at Dad. ‘And we’re definitely not afraid of funny little men like you. Nothing scares us.’
They exchanged another glance.
‘Well, almost nothing, sister. Nothing except creepy monsters.’
‘True enough, you old bag; nothing except extremely creepy monsters.’
Again they started to laugh at the top of their voices.
‘But lucky for us we never bump into any of them. Mostly just werewolves.’
The old women suddenly peered at Tim. They pinched his cheek and sniffed his neck. One pulled his ear. The other one buried her nose in his hair and took a deep breath.
‘Hey,’ Tim said, stepping back. ‘Get off!’
‘Ladies, stop that!’ Dad said forcefully. He stood in front of Tim and held out his arms. His diving mask misted over with anger.
‘Would you please stop pinching my son? And don’t sniff him! That’s, um … nasal harassment. Otherwise I’ll … I’ll hit you, I will. Or else I’ll call the police or something!’
The two old ladies glared at him.
‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ Dad said, quickly wiping his mask clean. ‘Weren’t you at my performance on the street corner this afternoon?’
The two women burst into cackling laughter. Their eyes gleamed with a dingy, yellowish glow.
‘What are you doing out so late anyway?’ Dad asked. ‘Old girls like you should be tucked up in bed by now. With your false teeth in a glass on the bedside table and snoring away with a hot-water bottle on your stomach.’
The ladies stared at him.
‘Rowing,’ snapped one of them, pointing at the boat on the roof of their car. ‘We go rowing together. And we were just out for a nice row in the woods. Does that satisfy your curiosity, frogman?’
The old ladies giggled.
‘Dad, these grannies are barmy!’ Tim whispered. ‘I think they’re creepy. They look like Mrs Chalker and that’s twice as creepy. Do you think there’s a Chalker Club?’
Dad stared into space dreamily. ‘Relax, son. It’s nothing to worry about. Rowing at full moon is an unusual sport. It’s very … um … different. I wouldn’t mind trying it sometime myself.’
‘Ouch!’ Tim cried.
The old lady with one eye had sneaked past Dad to jab Tim with a silver needle. Her one eye leered curiously at the blood dripping from his thumb.
‘That hurt, you old bat!’ Tim screamed. ‘Are you mad or what?’
‘Hmm, no werewolf reaction,’ the old lady mumbled. ‘He’s not one of them.’
The old ladies leant towards each other and started whispering. Suddenly Tim saw the letters on the backs of their cardigans: R O W. Club.
‘Dad, look,’ he said. ‘They’re—’
Just then a door opened down the street. Someone hurried down a garden path. Someone in a feather hat, who waved an umbrella angrily as she approached. Creak-crack, creak-crack …
Tim froze. ‘Another Mrs Chalker!’
Even Dad’s face turned pale. ‘As if it wasn’t bad enough already. Now there’s three of them …’
16
What’s going on?
WHAM! Alfie fell over on his snout. Something was still holding tight to his ankle. A loud yawn emerged from the bush.
‘Owaaaa!’
Leaves rustled, branches snapped.
A hat popped out of the bush. It was on top of a black wolf’s head.
‘Wrow, Grandpa Werewolf! What are you doing in that bush?’
Grandpa Werewolf let go of Alfie’s ankle. He gave a shy grin, stood up and wrestled his way out of the shrubbery. His raincoat was crumpled and his hat was dented.
‘Ooph, sorry, Alfie. Nice to see you. I was looking for your cousin Leo. And then I, um … fell asleep. In that bush. Things like that happen at my age.’ Grandpa Werewolf reached into the bush and pulled out a walking stick. ‘Sorry about grabbing you. I was dreaming that I was young again and I, um … I was chasing Grandma Werewolf. You understand?’ A big grin appeared on his face at the memory. ‘I almost had her.’
Alfie looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he’d ever heard him mention Grandma Werewolf.
Grandpa Werewolf saw Alfie’s questioning look. ‘Oh, I’ll tell you about her one day,’ he mumbled.
Alfie nodded. ‘Wrow. I’m glad I found you, Grandpa. I was starting to get worried. It’s full moon but Werewolf Wood’s deserted. I called and called, but no werewolves answered. Not Leo, not Noura and not you either. Then I suddenly saw two old ladies with a rowing boat. They looked like Mrs Chalker. I thought I was seeing double.’
Grandpa Werewolf leant silently on his walking stick. His pupils gleamed a dark black. The grin was gone from his face.
‘They looked like Chalker? What’s going on? Chalker’s still locked up, isn’t she?’
‘Not any more, Grandpa. She’s back.’ Quickly Alfie told him what he’d seen in Mrs Chalker’s garden. Grandpa listened carefully, then shook his head and let out a deep sigh.
‘What a strange story. Has Chalker turned over a new leaf all of a sudden?’ He narrowed his eyes to slits and peered thoughtfully at Alfie. ‘Old ladies with a rowing boat, you say? That is very strange too.’
‘Wrow, what do you mean, Grandpa?’
Grandpa raised his walking stick and pointed at the trees. ‘Do you see any water here, Alfie? Why are those old ladies carrying a rowing boat around with them? There aren’t any lakes in Werewolf Wood. There’s nowhere to row. And why do they look like Chalker?’ Grandpa rubbed his snout. ‘I’m worried about Leo all of a sudden. Where’s he been all evening? He’s disappeared …’
17
A Smile
‘Choker, Cheeker, come here. What are you doing?’ Mrs Chalker rushed past Dad and Tim. She pointed at the lady with one eye. ‘Choker, what have I told you?’
Then she looked at the one who was missing an ear. ‘That goes for you too, Cheeker. You don’t listen!’
Suddenly she raised her umbrella and – WHACK! WH
ACK! – brought it down on the elderly ladies’ heads.
‘Get that boat off the car and go inside. And don’t you ever bother these nice people again.’
Choker and Cheeker glared at Chalker. Cheeker gave her the ‘V’ sign and Choker stuck out her tongue. Mrs Chalker gritted her teeth. Then she moved like lightning and grabbed Choker by the tongue. ‘You want to lose this too, do you? No? Well, behave yourself then.’ She jabbed Cheeker’s foot with her umbrella. ‘You too. Get to work. Don’t make me lose my temper …’
The two ladies screamed.
‘Grab that boat and go inside,’ Mrs Chalker screeched. ‘Otherwise you’ll be sorry. Move it!’
Cursing and grumbling, the old ladies walked over to the car and yanked the rowing boat off the roof. Dad rushed over.
‘Shall I help carry it, ladies?’
He grabbed the rowing boat with two hands. ‘Huh, that’s funny, there’s a lid on this boat. It looks like a coffin. What’s it got a lid for?’
‘To keep out the rain, you halfwit,’ Choker shouted.
‘Let go, moron,’ Cheeker yelled.
Choker gave Dad a dirty look. ‘Get lost!’
‘OK, OK,’ Dad said, quickly stepping aside. ‘I was just offering.’
Mrs Chalker shook her umbrella at her sisters. ‘Choker, Cheeker, go and wash your mouths out this instant! I don’t want to ever hear you being rude to these people again!’
Grumbling under their breath, the two of them lugged the rowing boat up the garden path.
Pretty impressive all the same, thought Tim. A boat like that must be heavy. Those ladies have muscles of iron.
Alfie the Werewolf 5: The Evil Triplets Page 3