Room 13 (13 page)

‘Big deal.’

She looked him in the eye. ‘We can’t do it without you, Gary. It needs four. Four things, four people. Are you chickening out?’

He shook his head, looking at the floor. ‘I don’t suppose so. It’s not fair, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘You’ll be there though, at half-eleven?’

‘Yes.’

The second half kicked off with the new Bros album. They danced together, the four of them, a little apart from the others. Gary was right, of course. Deep down, each of them felt as he did – that they’d been unfairly singled out. They’d do what had to be done, but their week had been ruined and that was that. They moved mechanically to the music and thought about midnight.

The end came too soon for everybody, except perhaps the teachers, who had sat it all out, waiting in vain for Buddy Holly. At half-past nine the last track faded, the lights came on and the enchantment melted away. Children stood on the scuffed, littered floor, exposed, self-conscious and tired. Mr Hepworth led three cheers and a round of applause for the disc jockey, who grinned, blushed and looked at her feet. After that, they collected jackets, bags and cardigans and went away to bed.

Mrs Evans stuck her head round the door just as Fliss was taking her shoes off. ‘Can I see you out here a minute, please, Felicity?’

Fliss sighed, re-tying the laces. ‘What’s up now, I wonder?’

‘You’re in bother,’ said Marie, cheerfully. She was already in bed. The twins hadn’t finished in the bathroom yet.

Fliss went out on to the landing. Mrs Evans had Lisa there too. She spoke quietly to them both.

‘Now listen. I know you’re both worried about Ellie-May Sunderland, but you needn’t worry any more. She’s been fine today, but anyway Mrs Marriott and I have decided to take her into our room for the night, just in case she decides to go sleepwalking again. Mr Hepworth is speaking to Gary and David, and we want you
all
in bed and asleep before the clock strikes ten. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

The disco had shattered everybody, and by the time the faraway clock struck ten Marie and the twins were fast asleep. Fliss lay stroking her pebble, wishing she could sleep too. She could have, easily, but she knew if she did she wouldn’t wake up till morning.

So. Ellie-May won’t be coming. That doesn’t mean the room out there won’t change though – wish it did. What about the others? Mr Hepworth’s spoken to Trot and Gary. They know Ellie-May’s being guarded. Will it stop them coming? Gary wasn’t too keen to begin with. And if they don’t come, what do we do, Lisa and me? Shine the torch in his eyes and hit him with the pebble, or call it off and let him go on luring kids to their doom? And anyway, who says Lisa’s going to show up?

Good way to keep awake, worrying like this. Every quarter that clock chimes, but it seems like hours between. Ten fifteen. Ten thirty. Ten forty flipping five. Forty-five minutes to go.

Then what?

THEY CAME. ALL
of them. Fliss came last, clutching her pebble.

‘Have we all got our stuff?’ she whispered. They showed her. ‘Right.’ She looked at her watch. Twenty to twelve. ‘Soon be over now.’

‘Aye,’ growled Gary. ‘One way or the other.’

Fliss looked at him. ‘We’re going to succeed, right?’

He shrugged. ‘If you say so. But if somebody had told me last week I’d be risking my life for Ellie-May Sunderland I’d have told him he was nuts. I don’t even like her, for Pete’s sake.’

‘Who does, but it’s not just for Ellie-May, Gary. Old Sal says it’s for all the others.’

‘Yeah, well, like I said before, she’s crackers.’

They waited. Fliss kept looking at her watch. When it said five to twelve she whispered, ‘Right. Time to get into position.’

They’d worked it all out beforehand. Trot was first. He opened the bathroom door and stood on the threshold, holding his kite. He’d stripped away the tattered polythene. All that remained was a stiff, white plastic cross. As soon as the number appeared on the cupboard door, he was to cross the landing, open the door quietly and walk in, holding up the cross. That was in case the vampire was awake and out of his coffin. If he was, then they wouldn’t be able to carry out their plan, but the cross might keep the creature at bay till they could get out and slam the door.

Behind Trot stood Lisa with the torch. She would follow him in, and shine the torch around to see if the vampire was loose. If he was, she’d try to dazzle him while they retreated. If he was in the coffin, she was to shine it on his chest, right where Gary had to place the stick of rock.

Gary was third. He would follow the other two in, and if everything was all right, he’d grip his rock with both hands and place the point directly over the vampire’s heart.

Fliss would be last. If the vampire was out of the coffin, her job would be to get out fast and that was all. If he was in the coffin, she would raise the pebble and bring it down on the rock, driving the point into the vampire. She was to hammer the rock again and again till the vampire was dead.

It would all have to be done very quickly. Fliss wished they’d been able to practise a couple of times, but they hadn’t. So. They had to get it right first time, or else –

The town clock began to chime. ‘Stand by,’ whispered Fliss from the rear. Her mouth was bone-dry. Her left hand was resting on Gary’s shoulder and she could feel him trembling. In front of him, Lisa switched on her torch and trained it on the door.

The pale stain appeared. Four pairs of eyes watched it form the number thirteen. As the figures grew clear, Fliss hissed, ‘Go!’

Swiftly, silently, they padded in line across the landing. Trot twisted the doorknob, pushed, and walked into the darkness, holding the cross up high and with Lisa at his heels. The torch beam made a quick sweep of the room and steadied on the long, pale box. Gary strode forward and leaned over the open coffin, grasping the rock in both hands. Fliss stood poised, the great pebble raised high above her head. The torch beam slid over the rim of the box.

He lay with his hands crossed on this breast and his eyes closed. He was thin, and small, and dirty. His face was dead white, except for a dark smudge on the forehead and a brown crust about the bluish lips. A fleece of pale, tangled hair, grey
with
dust, covered the skull, falling on to the bed of earth which covered the bottom of the coffin. His fingernails were split and blackened, and a disgusting smell rose from the single, filthy garment he wore, which looked like a nightshirt or shroud.

‘Ugh!’ Gary’s stomach heaved and he twisted his face aside.

‘Quick!’ hissed Lisa. ‘His eyes are moving – look!’

As she spoke, the vampire’s eyelids fluttered. Gary sucked in some air, turned back and planted the spike he’d made in the vee between the creature’s hands. The vampire’s eyes flew open, red-rimmed, filled with fear. Grabbing the coffin-rim with one hand and scrabbling in the earth with the other, he began to rise. His lips parted. Chipped, yellow fangs glistened in the torchlight and the breath hissed stinking through his teeth. Trot dashed forward and thrust his cross at the contorted face. The vampire let go of the coffin-rim to strike at it, and as he did so Gary threw all this weight forward, bore down on the spike and yelled, ‘Now, Fliss – now!’

Fliss aimed, screwed up her eyes and brought the pebble down with all the force she could muster. There was a wet thud and the vampire began to scream, bucking and thrashing so violently that the coffin slid about. Gary fell forward across the
table
, clinging desperately to the spike. ‘Again!’ he gasped. ‘For Pete’s sake hit it again, Fliss!’

Fliss, sickened, raised the pebble and brought it down again, driving the spike clear through the writhing body into the bloody earth beneath, where it broke off. The vampire screamed again, clutching at the coffin-rim with both hands, flailing its naked legs and arching its back so violently that Gary’s grip was broken and he crashed to the floor.

At once the others closed in. Lisa’s beam lanced into the creature’s fear-crazed eyes. Trot lowered the cross till it almost touched the coffin-rim, and Fliss lifted the pebble, ready to split the vampire’s skull.

She didn’t have to. As they watched the creature’s struggles began to subside. Its screams became ghastly, bubbling cries as it twisted this way and that, clutching at the impaling spike, striving to draw it out. Soon, weakening, it ceased to kick.

Its hands lost their grip on the spike and slid down the curve of the heaving chest on the glistening earth. It lay, mouth open, gulping at the air, rolling its head and screwing up its eyes as it strove to avoid the light. Gradually its movements became sluggish and its breathing shallow. Then, quite suddenly it seemed, the breathing stopped.
The
head rolled over to one side. All movement ceased.

Fliss lowered her arms, dropped the pebble on the table and turned away. Trot let his cross fall to the floor and stood, gazing into the coffin. Gary had picked himself up and was leaning against the wall with this eyes closed, breathing hard, whispering, ‘We did it. Wow, we did it,’ over and over. Lisa aimed her torch beam at the floor and very slowly followed the puddle of light towards the open door. As she did so there were footfalls on the stair, and voices, and the landing light triggered the shift, so that three frowsy teachers saw four dishevelled children and a cupboard which was locked.

SOME MORNINGS ARE
just perfect. You know what I mean. You’ve slept like a log, you come wide awake and it’s sunshine from the word go. Sunshine and birdsong and your favourite breakfast and everybody being nice to you. It sometimes happens to people on their birthday.

Well, that Friday morning at Whitby was one of those, and it wasn’t anybody’s birthday. There should have been some gloom about because the holiday was over, but there wasn’t. Fliss and the other three should have felt dog-tired and maybe a little bit chastened after their horrific adventure, but they didn’t. They’d got a terrific telling-off from old Hepworth, of course, but they didn’t mind that. An enormous weight had been lifted from them and they walked on air. Nobody thought, Oh, crikey, school. Everybody thought, Oh great, home! It was that sort of morning.

Fliss was hungry. The aroma of sausages, drifting up from the basement kitchen, made her mouth water. Sausages! Her favourite. The cereal was a favourite, too. She shovelled it into her face, watching the teachers.

They hadn’t tried to explain to the teachers. There was no point. Grown-ups don’t believe anything you tell them. They have to see with their own eyes, and there was nothing to see. Not now.

After breakfast, the children went upstairs to finish packing and tidy their rooms. The door of the linen cupboard was closed, and there was no number on it. Never will be again, thought Fliss. Not even at midnight. She smiled.

In room ten, everything had been packed away. Marie and the twins stood looking out of the window. ‘There’s no old witch today,’ said Maureen.

‘Mad Sal’s not a witch,’ said Fliss. ‘And she’s not mad either.’

Room ten looked bare without their bits and pieces. It wasn’t their room any more and they weren’t sorry to leave it. They carried their luggage downstairs and stacked it in the hallway. The coach wasn’t due for another hour, so the teachers took them down to the beach where they ran or skimmed pebbles or stood, saying goodbye to the sea, which sparkled in the sun.

The coach was coming at half-past ten. At
twenty
past, Mr Hepworth called them together and led them back up the steep pathway.

It was there. The driver was stowing the last of the luggage in the boot. Mr Wilkinson was helping him. Both men whistled as they worked.

The children crossed the road and climbed on board. Fliss and Lisa got seats together. The driver slipped into his seat, grinned at the children through his mirror and told them to hold tight. The engine roared into life. The coach rolled forward. The Wilkinsons stood on the top step, waving. The children waved back. The coach gathered speed. The Crow’s Nest fell away behind. They were going home.

Fliss settled back in the comfy seat and sighed. ‘It’s been a funny sort of holiday,’ she said.