Horror Holiday
Authors: A. B. Saddlewick
With special thanks to Tim Collins
First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Buster Books,
an imprint of Michael O’Mara Books Limited,
9 Lion Yard, Tremadoc Road, London SW4 7NQ
www.busterbooks.co.uk
www.monstrousmaud.co.uk
Series created by Working Partners Limited
Text copyright © Working Partners Limited 2013
Cover design by Nicola Theobald
Illustration copyright © Buster Books 2013
Illustrations by Sarah Horne
copyright © House Industries
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the
publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the
subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978–1–78055–172–2 in paperback print format
ISBN: 978-1-78055-184-5 in Epub format
ISBN: 978-1-78055-185-2 in Mobipocket format
B
ump! The car bounced and clanked along. “Ow! Slow down, Daddy!” grumbled Milly Montague. “That’s the third time I’ve
banged my head!”
Maud wished her sister would stop making a fuss. She travelled down this road in the school bus almost every day, and that was a hundred times bumpier.
“Sorry,” said Mr Montague. “I thought the suspension could handle it, but this road isn’t up to much. Look at the size of those potholes! The council should do something
about it.”
Maud smiled as she remembered the day a group of workers had been sent to fix the road. They’d hardly got their tools out before Mr Quasimodo, the school caretaker, tried to offer them a
cup of tea. They’d run away screaming.
Maud looked down at her blazer pocket, where her pet rat Quentin was bobbing up and down like a baby kangaroo. He peered up at her and squeaked with fear.
“Don’t worry, Quent,” she said. “It’ll be over soon.”
Not soon enough, though. Maud had been dreading tonight for weeks. She’d tried to stop her mum and dad from coming to parents’ evening, but they’d insisted. They were bound to
find out that Rotwood was a monster school! And if they did, they’d forbid her from ever going back.
The aroma of rotting leaves and stagnant puddles drifted into the car.
“Put the windows up!” shouted Milly, lifting her pink blouse up over her nose. “Maud’s school is already making me sick. I don’t know why you had to bring
me.”
“Sorry, petal,” said Mrs Montague, “but we’ve found it very difficult to get babysitters since the incident with Tracy.”
“The poor girl is still convinced she was attacked by a flying hamster with fangs,” said Mr Montague. “All her friends think our house is haunted now. Won’t even come for
double pay!”
Maud felt a little guilty that Tracy had been so scared of the vampire hamster she’d been looking after. But she couldn’t tell her parents what had really happened that evening. Not
without revealing the truth about Rotwood.
“I just don’t understand why I’m being punished,” said Milly. “Shouldn’t I be rewarded for getting straight As in my report?”
“This isn’t a punishment, dear. What about our holiday?” asked Mrs Montague. “Doesn’t that count as a reward?”
“I suppose so,” said Milly. “Though it will have to be pretty flipping amazing to make up for this pong.”
“Watch your language, young lady,” said Mr Montague. “We don’t use words like ‘flipping’ in this family.”
“Very flipping sorry,” muttered Milly under her breath.
“And it just so happens that I have some good news on the holiday front,” Mr Montague went on. “You know how I said we might be going to Corfu?”
Maud pricked up her ears.
“Yes?” asked Milly, leaning forward.
“Well, all the flights were fully booked,” said Mr Montague. “So we’re going to the Classic Car Show instead. Isn’t that fantastic?”
Maud’s heart sank, and for once, her sister was speechless.
“No need to thank me,” said Mr Montague. “It’ll be fun for everyone! After all, who’d want to lounge around on a beach when they could be learning about the history
of motoring? And it was cheaper, too, if you can believe it.”
Milly rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat.
The car’s headlights picked out a sign ahead:
“Some practical joker has added an ‘s’ in front of ‘care’,” said Mr Montague, chuckling to himself.
“Er … yes,” said Maud. “Great joke, isn’t it?”
The thick trees on either side fell away and the bumpy road turned to gravel.
Rotwood loomed ahead of them. The sky was growing dark, and Maud thought the building’s spiky stone towers and arched windows looked more bleak and forbidding than ever.
“What a disgusting dump,” said Milly. “It’s even more rubbish than I was expecting.”
“Well, I think it looks very cosy,” said Mrs Montague cheerfully. “Though a few lights wouldn’t go amiss.”
Maud winced as she looked at the weird array of vehicles parked outside. There was a horse and carriage that looked as if it had ridden in from Victorian days; a row of rusty penny-farthing
bikes with huge wheels at the front and tiny ones at the back; and a couple of broomsticks perched against the wall.
As Mr Montague parked, Maud noticed that a hearse with a wooden coffin in the back had just arrived. Her half-vampire friend Paprika got out, straightened his cape and opened
the back door. The coffin creaked open and his mum rose from it, shaking the soil from her ballgown.
“Our playing fields are over there,” said Maud quickly, pointing in the opposite direction. “That’s where we play totally normal games like netball and tennis.”
Mrs Montague squinted into the darkness. “I can’t really see anything, petal. But I’m sure they’re very nice.”
