Little Vampire

by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg

  “Why do you get seventy-five and me only fifty?” asked Tony crossly.

  Nigel put on his lofty fifth-formel smile. “Because fifty for you is the same as seventy-five for me.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Tony. “I’d have to pay you seventy-five if I lost!”

  “Are you going to lose then?” mocked Nigel.

  “Well,” said Tony, unable to conceal a smug smile. “We’ll see ...”

  “So, fine – let’s get going!” said Nigel. “I’ll start here, and you go over there!”

  Tony had only taken a few steps towards the chapel when he heard Nigel cry out, “Tony, come here, quick! I’ve found them!”

  Tony tried to look surprised. “Really?” he said.

  Nigel was beside himself. “God!” he said, again and again. “Gravestones in the shape of hearts! Look at this one: Frederick Sackville-Bagg, 1803–1850, and Thelma Sackville-Bagg, 1804–1849.” He looked at Tony with wide eyes. “Hey! Didn’t you say your friend was called Sackville-Bagg too?”

  Tony tried not to look too pleased. “Yep,” he said, with a nod.

  By now, Nigel had found the other gravestones, and his voice faltered as he listed the names. “Sabina, William, and here – Dorothy. What weird names they all had!” The two boys smiled. “But they’ve all been dead for years,” Nigel continued. “Or do you think they still fly?”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in such fairy tales?” teased Tony.

  “Well, no, I don’t,” mumbled Nigel. “But this gravestone thing ...” He paused, then said: “Hey, didn’t you say your friend was a vampire too?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Sure. Back outside the cemetery.”

  “Then I guess I meant it,” said Tony.

  Nigel took a step closer to Tony and looked at him warily. “Did you mean it?”

  Tony merely smiled. “I could tell you many a tale if you believed in vampires.”

  “Maybe I do believe in them now,” said Nigel. “And if I don’t, you could always introduce me to your friend to convince me.”

  “Now?” grinned Tony.

  “Why not?” answered Nigel. He was getting annoyed with Tony’s obvious enjoyment and I-know-better-than-you smiles.

  “I can’t,” Tony said calmly, “because vampires don’t get up till after sunset, and it’s still daytime at the moment.”

  “So why did you say you’d arranged to meet him then?”

  “Well, I had to start this stupid nonsense somewhere, didn’t I?”

  Nigel was so surprised that for a moment he just looked at Tony without saying a word. Then he turned bright red, and his voice cracked with anger. “You – you little creep! Just shut up about your vampires! It’s all fairy tales anyway.”

  “But you believed me!” laughed Tony.

  “I certainly did not!” raged Nigel.

  Tony just went on grinning.

  “And anyhow,” finished Nigel, “I’m off home!” He turned on his heels and stamped off.

  At that moment an idea occurred to Tony. What if Nigel were to come on Wednesday and not Rudolph ... but not as Nigel, as Rudolph ... that was it! The answer! His parents would stop going on at him, because they would think they had met Rudolph at last!

  “Ni-igel!” called Tony as loudly as he could, and ran off after him. “Wait!”

  Anna the Toothless

  TONY WAS ALREADY ASLEEP when something tapped gently on his window. Blinking his eyes sleepily, he could only make out through the drawn curtains the outlines of two dark shapes crouching on the window-sill. It had to be vampires, for who else could be outside in the middle of the night, tapping on a window on the sixth floor! But he wondered why there were two. Rudolph always came alone. Perhaps it was a trap! Perhaps Rudolph’s family had found out where he, Tony, lived! But Rudolph would surely have warned him if that had happened. No, Tony decided, it was far more likely just to be Ru­dolph outside – but who on earth had he brought with him?

  The tapping came again, this time more impatiently. Tony tiptoed over to the window and peeped through the curtains. He recognised the little vampire, with his cloak wrapped tightly round him, and by his side a se­c­ond, much smaller vampire, who was also wearing a black cloak.

  Tony heard a whisper from outside. “It’s me, Ru­dolph!” His heart beating loudly, Tony drew the curtains to one side and there sat a girl-vampire! He was so astonished that for a moment he remained speechless, rooted to the spot.

  “Open up!” called Rudolph, sliding restlessly backwards and forwards on the window-sill. Tony quickly opened the window, and the two vampires slipped noiselessly into the room.

  “My sister,” said Rudolph, indicating the girl-vampire. “Anna the Toothless!” Her face was small and very white, with pink eyes and a round, little mouth. She smiled shyly at Tony, and two red spots appeared on her cheeks as she rounded on her brother.

  “You shouldn’t introduce me as Anna the Toothless,” she complained. “For a start, they are growing, and anyway, you didn’t have any either when you were my age!”

  “She’s the only one in our family who drinks milk,” giggled the vampire.

  “Not any more!” said Anna defiantly.

  “She was absolutely determined to meet you,” went on the vampire.

  Anna’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “So?” she said, glaring at her brother. “Isn’t that allowed?” Turning to Tony, she continued: “In fact, I wanted to see your books. He –” and she pointed at her brother “– told me that you had masses and masses.” She went over to the bookshelf and picked one out. “What about this one? Twelve Chilling Vampire Tales. Will you lend it to me?”

  “Er – O.K.,” said Tony.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling, and tucked the book under her cloak, at the same time throwing a triumphant look in the direction of her brother.

  She would really look very pretty for a vampire, thought Tony, if only her face were not so pale, and if she did not have those dark rings under her eyes ... but what did it matter? As if he was interested in girl-vampires!

  Meanwhile, Rudolph had made himself comfortable at Tony’s desk, and was looking around inquisitively. “By the way,” he asked, “where’s that other cloak of mine?”

  Tony had been dreading that question. “Well,” he began, noticing out of the corner of one eye that Anna was leafing through one book after another, “it’s not here, exactly.”

  “Not here?” questioned the vampire.

  “I’ve lent it to someone.”

  “Lent it?” The vampire looked angry and suspicious. “Why?”

  “Um, well, my parents ...” He tailed off, realising for the first time that his parents were asleep in the next room. He continued in a whisper, “My parents wanted me to ask you round.”

  “Me?” cried the vampire in amazement.

  “Yes, you,” said Tony, “because I’d told them so much about you. That’s why I had to go to the cemetery with the cloak today.”

  “To the cemetery?” repeated the vampire. “Why didn’t we see each other?”

  Even Anna pricked up her ears. “I didn’t see you either,” she said.

  “It was in the daytime,” explained Tony.

  “Pity,” sighed Anna.

  “Anyway, when I got to the cemetery, this guy from school –” Rudolph didn’t have to be told they were friends, after all “– turned up, and suddenly I had a brilliant idea. Nigel could pretend to be you!”

  “How’d he do that?” asked Rudolph.

  “Well, I’d introduce him as Rudolph Sackville-Bagg.”

  “Would it work?” asked the vampire nervously.

  “Sure. My parents have never met Nigel. And anyway, I told him all about it.”

  “All about it?” asked the vampire in a meaningful voice, looking rather dangerously at Tony.

  Tony hastened to reassure him. “Of course, nothing about the vault, or about your relatives. In any case, he doesn’t believe in vampires!�
��

  “That’s lucky,” said Rudolph, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But Tony believes in us!” warbled Anna, and gave a little skip and a jump.

  “Leave off!” hissed the vampire.

  Anna looked downcast. “Can’t you stop getting at me?” she said. “What will Tony think?”

  “I should think it’s too late to worry about that!” teased the vampire. “He must have realised by now that you’re just a silly little baby who thinks he’s a hero!”

  “Wh-a-at did you say?” screeched Anna, marching furiously over to Rudolph. “If you dare say that again ...” And she shook her tiny fist in his face.

  “O.K., O.K.,” relented Rudolph. “I’m sorry.”

  Mollified by this, Anna gave Tony a heartfelt look and returned to her place on the bed.

  “So when do I get my cloak back?” resumed the vampire.

  “Y-your cloak?” stammered Tony. He was still watching the door anxiously, knowing that it might be flung open at any moment. Usually his parents woke up at the slightest cough! Even quiet music disturbed them, and already Tony had had some explaining to do about his radio! Anna had just that moment discovered it. She was turning the knobs curiously, and before Tony could do anything, raucous rock music blared out across the room.

  “Oh, no!” groaned Tony, but too late. The door of his parents’ bedroom had opened.

  “Quick!” he hissed, and switched off the radio. “Hide!”

  Rudolph and Anna hardly had time to crawl under Tony’s bed before his mother appeared in the doorway. Her face looked grey and crumpled, and her hair stood out from her head in wild ringlets.

  “Tony,” she said sleepily, “how often have I told you ...”

  “I know, I know,” interrupted Tony. “I’m sorry.”

  His mother gave him one of her reproachful looks and shook her head, then turned as if to go. But then she stopped. “Tony,” she said, “there’s a funny smell in here.”

  “I can’t smell anything,” said Tony innocently.

  “I can. Something smells ... mouldy.”

  “Mouldy?” repeated Tony, stationing himself in front of the bed.

  “Something smells in here,” said his mother emphatically. She went slowly round the room, sniffing suspiciously in each corner. Luckily she didn’t look under the bed, but came to a standstill in the middle of the room.

  “When did you last have a bath, Tony?” she asked.

  “Yesterday,” said Tony, ignoring the soft giggle that came from under the bed.

  “There’s nothing to laugh about,” said his mother sternly. “You know you ought to have a bath everyday.” Sniffing indignantly, she added, “You smell as if you need one!” There was another titter from under the bed.

  “O.K., laugh!” said his mother crossly. “It won’t seem so funny in the morning. I’ll see to it that you wash, my boy!” With this last retort she stalked out, shutting the door behind her with a determined click. Tony made sure he heard his parents’ door close too before he sank onto his bed in relief.

  “By the skin of our teeth!” he breathed.

  “What’s that about teeth?” asked Anna, wriggling out from under the bed.

  “Just a figure of speech,” said Rudolph condescendingly. “But of course, babies can’t be expected to understand.”

  “Huh!” sniffed Anna, and stuck out her tongue.

  “We must be off,” announced the vampire.

  “Already?” asked Anna sadly.

  “Now,” growled the vampire, and jumped onto the window-sill. “It’ll soon be light. Come on!”

  Anna looked pleadingly at Tony. “May I come again?” she asked.

  “Er, of course,” said Tony, rather taken aback.

  “Great!” she gurgled, and with a single bound was out through the window, looking for all the world like a rather large butterfly hovering outside.

  “What about the cloak?” asked the vampire. “When do I get it back?”

  “Wednesday,” answered Tony.

  “O. K.,” said the vampire, and added softly, “You see, it’s not even mine. I got it out of Uncle Theodore’s coffin!”

  “The one with the wo ...” Wooden stake, was what Tony had been about to say, but he had stopped himself just in time. He remembered only too well how vampires feel about wooden stakes! But in any case, Rudolph had missed Tony’s last words, and had already sailed off into the night.

  “As long as Nigel remembers the cloak on Wednesday, all will be well,” Tony just had time to think before he fell asleep.

  Nigel’s Great Performance

  “YOUR RUDOLPH ISN’T THE most punctual of friends,” said Tony’s mother on Wednesday. The clock said half past four and Nigel still had not arrived.

  “Never mind,” said Tony. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It certainly does matter,” contradicted his mother. “The tea’s getting cold.”

  Tony thought the table looked as if she was expecting a state visit! All the best china was out, and the silver spoons and even the candlesticks. A special cake had been baked that very afternoon for the occasion, and it smelt delicious; there were Tony’s favourite cream buns as well, and the expensive chocolate biscuits with the chewy fillings, which his mother never bought for everyday tea.

  “Shouldn’t you ring him up?” suggested his mother, and before Tony could answer, she had got out the telephone directory. She ran down the list of names with her finger. “Sack, Sackerman, Sackmore, Sackstone, Sackwood. There isn’t a Sackville-Bagg,” she said, and looked questioningly at Tony.

  “I could have told you that,” said Tony.

  “Did you know they don’t have a phone?” asked his mother.

  “Well, I didn’t know, but I guessed they might not,” said Tony evasively.

  “Why?” His mother was all ears now. But at that very moment the doorbell rang.

  Tony leapt up in relief. “That must be him!” he said, and ran to the door. I hope it really is Nigel, he thought. What on earth am I going to say to Mum and Dad if he’s left me in the lurch?

  But it was Nigel. At first, Tony could hardly recognise him in his dark trousers, black shirt, and swathed, according to instructions, in the famous cloak.

  “Hello!” He grinned. “How do I look?”

  Tony looked quickly over his shoulder. “Ssh!” he whispered. “We mustn’t give the game away.” Out loud, he said, “Hi, Rudolph! Come on in.”

  Mum appeared in the hall. “How nice,” she cooed. “Hello, Rudolph. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  “Good afternoon,” said Nigel, making a low bow.

  “You know your way around the flat already,” said Tony’s mother, watching Nigel closely, “but we’ve never met. Once you hid in the cupboard, and then when tea was ready, you’d disappeared.”

  Nigel just stood and grinned. “Anyway,” went on Tony’s mother, “what do you think of your cloak?”

  “The cloak?” repeated Nigel. “It’s great.”

  “Haven’t you noticed anything different about it?”

  Nigel looked puzzled. “What sort of thing?”

  “The holes, of course,” laughed Tony’s mother. “I’ve darned them.”

  “Oh, er, yes – thank you very much,” murmured Nigel.

  “Tony said you didn’t want them mended.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Tony came to the rescue. “Because then it wouldn’t look like a real vampire-costume,” he chipped in.

  “Oh, yes.” Nigel looked as if the penny had just dropped. “My vampire-costume. Well, Mrs. Peasbody, it’s just that it looks more spooky with holes in it.”

  Tony’s mother smiled. “Come along in,” she said. They were over the first hurdle, thought Tony. Nigel wasn’t bad, he’d give him that. In fact, for the fifty pence it was going to cost him, the performance was cheap at the price!

  “I hope you’re enjoying your tea,” said Tony’s mother when they were all sitting round the table.

&nb
sp; “Mmm, thank you,” mumbled Nigel, who had already devoured a quarter of the cake and was now cramming a cream bun in his mouth.

  “I really didn’t know what to make for you,” smiled Tony’s mother. “Tony had told me such extraordinary stories about what you liked to eat.” She poured herself a cup of tea. “He said you only ate or drank one thing, and that we didn’t have any of it in the house.”

  “How strange,” said Nigel.

  “But I can see now that you’ve got a very good appetite,” said Tony’s mother, looking pleased.

  Nigel nodded and took another cream bun. “I’ve always liked eating,” he said through a mouthful of crumbs. “My mum always says: ‘Nigel, you’ll eat us out of house and home!’”

  “What does she call you?” asked Tony’s mother in astonishment. “Nigel?”

  “Er, yes, that’s my second name,” said Nigel quickly. “Rudolph Nigel Sackville –” He hesitated, and looked desperately at Tony.

  Sackville-Bagg. Tony’s lips silently mouthed the name.

  “Sackville-Wagg!” said Nigel firmly, misunderstanding Tony’s prompting.

  Tony’s mother was even more confused. “What?” she said.

  “I mean Sackville-Bang,” Nigel tried again.

  “Oh, you’re just trying to make a fool of me.”

  “No, no, Mrs. Peasbody, of course not,” Nigel assured her, reaching for another cream bun.

  “Hey!” protested Tony. “Leave some for other people!”

  “Tony,” rebuked his mother. “You shouldn’t speak to your guest like that!”

  “I don’t know who’s behaving like a guest round here,” stormed Tony. “Guests don’t guzzle their way straight through three cream buns!”

  “’Course they don’t,” agreed Nigel peaceably, taking the last one. “They eat four!”

  Tony was speechless. He’d invited Nigel over and now the pig was devouring the cakes as if he hadn’t eaten for a week. What on earth was his mum going to think? “Rudolph, I think it’s time you were going,” he said in a strangled voice.

  Nigel did not agree. He grinned unashamedly, and proceeded to pile his plate with chocolate biscuits. “Why should I?”