To Margaret, Esmé and Freya
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One: A Cunning Plan
Chapter Two: ‘Tickets, Please!’
Chapter Three: PC Pimple
Chapter Four: AAARGH!
Chapter Five: Full Moon
Chapter Six: ‘Wolf! Wolf!’
Chapter Seven: Silver Bullets
Chapter Eight: Bedpanned!
Chapter Nine: ‘Freeze!’
Chapter Ten: Scary Old Ladies
The Wolfgran: Who’s Who
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
A Cunning Plan
After her narrow escape from the wolf, Little Red Riding Hood’s granny decided that the forest was far too dangerous a place for an old lady to live in alone. So she sold her cottage to the Three Little Pigs (who believed her when she told them it was wolf-proof) and moved into an old people’s home in the nearby city.
The Happy-ever-after Home for Retired Fairy-tale Characters was surrounded by a high wall, covered in signs which said ‘No Wolves Allowed’ and ‘Thank You for not Eating the Residents’, so Granny was sure she would be safe there.
The wolf started to get lonely, and a little bored, when Granny left the forest. He tried visiting the Three Little Pigs, but they locked the doors, barred the windows and started going on about the hair on their chinny-chin-chins. The wolf just couldn’t be bothered with all that huffing and puffing nonsense.
Then, one day, the wolf thought of a cunning plan. If a wolf couldn’t get into the Happy-ever-after Home, perhaps an old lady could! Chuckling to himself, he hurried home to his den and rooted out the things he had stolen from Granny Riding Hood’s cottage so long ago. He put on her nightgown and slippers, her curlers and her headscarf. Then he grabbed her handbag and set off for the high road that led to the city.
He was waiting impatiently at the bus stop when up marched a squad of Girl Guides, led by a very large lady with a very red face.
‘Troop, halt!’ boomed the large lady. ‘Now, pay attention, gels! A Girl Guide never misses the opportunity to do a good deed. For example, here we have an old woman too timid to cross the road by herself. Watch me closely.’
Marching up to the wolf she called out, ‘Allow me to be of assistance, my good woman!’
‘Eh?’ said the wolf in surprise.
‘Deaf as a post, gels,’ announced the large lady, ‘Though you wouldn’t think it when you look at the size of her ears.’
‘Who are you calling deaf?’ growled the wolf crossly.
‘Mad as a hatter too,’ the large lady told her squad. ‘Doesn’t even know who she is!’
‘Clear off!’ growled the wolf.
‘No need to be alarmed,’ boomed the large lady. ‘I am Group Captain Frobisher of the Girl Guides. You’re quite safe with me. Just take my arm.’
The wolf looked at Group Captain Frobisher’s large, beefy arm, and remembered that he hadn’t had any breakfast.
‘Coo, did you see that?’ said a Girl Guide. ‘That little old lady just swallowed Group Captain Frobisher!’
‘Golly,’ exclaimed another. ‘She had jolly big teeth for such an old woman.’
‘She didn’t want to cross the road after all,’ pointed out a third. ‘Look, she’s getting on a bus now!’
‘I think,’ said a fourth, who was wearing a red hood over her uniform, ‘we’d better go and tell the woodcutter … I mean, the police.’
Chapter Two
‘Tickets, Please!’
Detective Chief Inspector Plonker was sitting in his office watching his favourite TV programme, The Hex Files, when his assistant, Detective Sergeant Snoop, poked his head around the door.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop.
‘Yes, Sergeant, what is it?’ snapped Inspector Plonker irritably, keeping one eye on the television.
‘There’s a Girl Guide in a red hood out here. She says an old lady ate her group captain at a bus stop,’ said Sergeant Snoop.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘Old ladies don’t eat Girl Guides at bus stops.’
‘Perhaps she said “tuck shop”,’ said the sergeant, consulting his notebook.
‘The point is, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker, ‘old ladies don’t eat Girl Guides at all. Or boy scouts, for that matter. They eat teacakes, custard creams, that sort of thing.’
‘But, sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop, ‘the Girl Guide says this wasn’t a real old lady.’
‘Well then, she couldn’t have eaten anybody at a bus stop, could she?’ said Inspector Plonker triumphantly.
‘Well, er, I suppose not, sir,’ replied Sergeant Snoop, scratching his head.
‘Good man,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘Now clear off. I’m busy.’
As Sergeant Snoop closed the door, Inspector Plonker turned his attention back to The Hex Files. This week’s episode was the best yet. The hero, Special Agent Mildew, had watched his next-door neighbour sprouting hair, howling at the moon and eating the Avon Lady, and suspected that the man just might be a werewolf. Inspector Plonker wished he was as clever as that!
The wolf was sitting on the bus having a doze when somebody tapped him sharply on the shoulder and said, ‘Tickets please.’ The wolf opened his eyes and saw a small, fat, cranky little man in a shiny blue uniform and a peaked cap glaring at him.
‘Tickets please, madam,’ repeated the ticket inspector impatiently. ‘Come along, we haven’t got all day!’
The wolf rooted in Granny Riding Hood’s handbag, found her bus pass, and handed it to the cranky little man.
The ticket inspector peered at it suspiciously. ‘Hang on a minute, this doesn’t look like you!’ he said, looking from Granny’s photo to the wolf and back again.
‘Eh?’ said the wolf.
‘Your ears are too big, for a start,’ the ticket inspector went on, ‘and the lady in this picture doesn’t have glowing red eyes.’
The wolf growled softly.
‘That does it,’ said the ticket inspector, placing his hand firmly on the wolf’s shoulder. ‘I can’t tell from the photo whether this old lady is growling or not, but she’s definitely not foaming at the mouth. Driver, call the police!’
The wolf looked at the ticket inspector’s pudgy fingers and remembered that he hadn’t had any lunch.
‘George,’ said a woman in the back seat, nudging her husband, ‘do you see that little old lady who’s just getting off?’
‘What about her?’ asked George, without looking up from his newspaper.
‘She just swallowed the ticket inspector,’ said his wife.
‘Good,’ said George, turning to the sports page. ‘Let’s hope she goes and swallows a few traffic wardens while she’s at it!’
‘She has beautiful teeth for a woman of her age,’ said his wife admiringly.
Chapter Three
PC Pimple
Sergeant Snoop opened the door just wide enough to poke his head through. ‘Sorry to interrupt again, sir,’ he said.
‘What is it now, Snoop?’ sighed Inspector Plonker. The Hex Files was getting more exciting by the minute. The werewolf, having devoured the vet, two zoo-keepers and an animal rights activist, was now being pursued by Agent Mildew through the moonlit city streets.
‘A bus driver just radioed in to say that an old lady swallowed a ticket inspector on the number seventeen,’ said Sergeant Snoop.
‘I’ve told you before, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker, ‘old ladies don’t eat –’
‘Perhaps she doesn’t like teacakes, sir,’ interrupted Sergeant Snoop.
‘Oh, very well then,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘Send a few cars to investigate.’
&n
bsp; ‘By the way, sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop, ‘that Girl Guide with the red hood is still outside and she says her granny –’
‘Never mind that Girl Guide’s granny,’ snapped Inspector Plonker. ‘Tell that Girl Guide to go and tie a granny knot in her granny. And don’t interrupt me again.’
‘No sir, I won’t sir, yes sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop.
The wolf was walking along the street towards the gates of the Happy-ever-after Home for Retired Fairy-tale Characters when he heard sirens wailing. A number of police cars screeched to a halt beside him. A young constable with pimples and a wispy moustache sprang out of the nearest car and blocked his path.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ he enquired, ‘but did you just get off the number seventeen bus?’
‘What’s it to you?’ answered the wolf crossly.
‘I’ll ask the questions, madam, if you don’t mind!’ barked the young constable in his best policeman voice. ‘Now, is that a ticket inspector’s cap you’re chewing?’
The wolf gulped and swallowed something. ‘Not chewing anything now,’ he said sulkily.
‘Aha, trying to be clever, eh?’ said the young constable, grabbing hold of the wolf’s collar. ‘Well, maybe you’d better come down to the station with me and we’ll see how clever you really are!’
The wolf looked at the constable’s skinny wrist and realised that it was long past his dinner time.
Chapter Four
AAARGH!
Sergeant Snoop barged straight into Inspector Plonker’s office, looking very agitated. ‘I think you’d better come and listen to this right away, sir!’ he said.
‘Very well, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker, turning off the television, ‘The Hex Files is over anyway.’
Agent Mildew had shot the werewolf with a silver bullet and saved the citizens of the city (except for those unfortunate enough to have been in the public library when the crowded school bus he was driving crashed into it and exploded during the Big Chase).
‘Why can’t we ever have any exciting crimes around here?’ muttered the Inspector as he followed Sergeant Snoop into the radio room. The Girl Guide with the red hood was sitting by the radio, listening intently.
‘What’s she doing here?’ said Inspector Plonker.
‘Never mind her now, sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop, picking up the microphone. ‘Control to PC Briggs. What’s the situation out there?’
‘PC Briggs to Control,’ gabbled an excited voice over the radio. ‘An old lady just swallowed PC Pimple on the high street!’
Inspector Plonker snatched the microphone from the sergeant’s hand.
‘Plonker here!’ he barked officiously. ‘Now, pull yourself together, Briggs. You say an old woman swallowed PC Pimple. You’re sure it wasn’t a teacake?’
‘No, sir,’ crackled the voice of PC Briggs. ‘It was definitely an old woman, sir.’
‘No, Briggs,’ said the inspector, ‘I mean, are you sure it was PC Pimple and not a … Oh, never mind. What’s happening now?’
‘PC Bloggs is walking towards her, sir. He’s taking out his notebook. He’s … she’s just swallowed PC Bloggs, sir!’
‘Calm down, Briggs,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘Remember your training, man! Say “What’s all this ’ere then?”’
‘PC Purvis just did that, sir!’
‘Well done, that man,’ said the Inspector. ‘What happened?’
‘She swallowed him, sir!’
‘Right, Briggs,’ said the Inspector sternly, ‘it’s time to get tough. Tell her you’re afraid you’ll have to ask her to accompany you down to the station.’
‘PC Wilks tried that one, sir!’
‘And?’
‘She swallowed him too, sir,’ said Briggs, panic rising in his voice. ‘She’s coming this way, sir! She’s swallowed PC Perkins, sir! She’s right outside the car. She’s swallowed PC AAARGH!’
The radio spluttered, crackled and died. Inspector Plonker looked puzzled. ‘Don’t remember him,’ he said.
‘Who, sir?’ asked Sergeant Snoop, staring in horror at the silent radio.
‘PC AAARGH!’ said the Inspector. ‘Must be a new recruit.’
Chapter Five
Full Moon
‘Excuse me, Inspector,’ said the Girl Guide with the red hood, who had been listening the whole time, ‘I think I know what’s going on here. You see, my granny used to live in the forest, and there was this wolf …’
But Inspector Plonker wasn’t listening. He was staring out the window, where night had fallen and a full moon was shining brightly over the city. Suddenly he whirled around and smacked his fist into his palm.
‘Snoop,’ he cried, ‘I am a complete idiot!’
‘Yes sir.’
‘What d’you mean, “Yes sir,” Snoop?’
‘Sorry, sir, I mean, no sir, sir,’ smirked Sergeant Snoop.
‘Don’t you see?’ said the Inspector excitedly, ‘it’s just like that episode of The Hex Files I’ve been watching!’
‘Beg pardon, sir,’ said Sergeant Snoop carefully, ‘but do you really think you should base any more investigations on episodes of The Hex Files? I mean, look what happened last time.’
‘What are you driving at, Snoop?’ demanded Inspector Plonker crossly.
‘Well, sir,’ said the sergeant, ‘there was that fellow you charged with being a fiendish, blood-sucking, grave-robbing zombie in a built-up area …’
‘I remember him,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘Shifty-looking character. Always hanging around cemeteries with a shovel.’
‘He was a grave-digger, sir.’
‘Yes, well, we all make mistakes, Snoop.’
‘Yes sir,’ continued Sergeant Snoop, ‘but do you remember that bloke you arrested for being the flesh-eating mummy of King Tut in a manner likely to lead to a breach of the peace, sir?’
‘Never forget him,’ replied the Inspector, ‘lurching along the street, wrapped from head to toe in filthy bandages, moaning to himself.’
‘He’d fallen out of the back of an ambulance while being rushed to hospital after a steamroller ran over him, sir!’
‘Well,’ said the Inspector reasonably, ‘at least I didn’t actually drive that stake through his heart.’
‘Only because I wouldn’t hold it steady for you, sir.’
‘Anyway, never mind all that now, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker. ‘This time I know what we’re up against.’
‘I suppose you mean a wolfman, sir?’ said Sergeant Snoop wearily.
‘No, Snoop,’ said the Inspector. ‘I mean something even more vicious, more bestial, more mindlessly savage!’
‘Football supporters, sir?’
‘No, Snoop,’ said Inspector Plonker, ‘I mean … the Wolfgran!’
‘Idiot!’ muttered the Girl Guide with the red hood, as she slipped unnoticed out the door and hurried off into the night.
Chapter Six
‘Wolf! Wolf!’
The wolf bounded up the steps of the Happy-ever-after Home for Retired Fairy-tale Characters. He pushed his way through the revolving doors into the lobby. Visiting time was over, and the corridors were deserted as he prowled around, searching for Granny Riding Hood’s room.
Suddenly, a voice boomed: ‘Granny Riding Hood, where do we think we are going?’
A large, beefy matron with a red face, who looked exactly like Group Captain Frobisher (and was, in fact, her twin sister), came striding up to the wolf, clutching a medicine bottle and a spoon. ‘Sneaking out to the loo again, were we?’ she scolded, wagging her finger. ‘Naughty, naughty! We must learn to use our bedpan after lights out, mustn’t we?’
‘Eh?’ said the wolf.
‘We were going to have our medicine in our nice, cosy bed,’ continued the matron. ‘But, as we’ve been so naughty, we’ll just have to take it out here in the nasty, cold corridor, won’t we?’
‘Don’t want any!’ growled the wolf sulkily.
‘Now, now,’ said the matron, pouring medicine onto the
spoon and holding it out to the wolf, ‘let’s do what matron says, hmm? Open wide and swallow.’
The wolf shrugged and did what he was told. After all, it was nearly suppertime.
Nurse Cotton, the night nurse, was sitting at her desk, reading a paperback about a nurse who falls in love with a tall, dark, handsome brain surgeon – and wondering why all she ever met were small, fat, balding bowel-specialists – when she saw the little old man hobbling down the corridor towards her.
‘Wolf! Wolf!’ cried the little old man hoarsely. ‘A wolf just swallowed matron, over by the women’s ward!’
‘Yes dear, I know all about it,’ said Nurse Cotton soothingly. ‘Just cut along back to bed now, and I’ll be along in a minute to tuck you in.’
Nurse Cotton shook her head sadly as she watched him scuttling obediently away. The Old Boy Who Cried Wolf had been playing that same trick ever since he was a lad. Didn’t he realise that nobody believed him any more?
The wolf opened the door and crept quietly into Granny Riding Hood’s room.
‘Hello, Granny,’ he growled.
‘Eh? What? Who’s there?’ exclaimed Granny, waking with a start.
‘It is I, Little Red Riding Hood,’ said the wolf in his squeakiest voice, which sounded like a duck being throttled.
‘Oh, it’s you, granddaughter,’ said Granny. ‘I didn’t recognise you. I’m blind as a bat without me glasses.’
‘I’ve brought you something nice to eat, Granny,’ squeaked the wolf huskily.
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