The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

"Go up and change your clothes, Andy, then come down and have one before they cool down."

There wasn't much better than warm Molly scones and a cup of cocoa. He hurried upstairs and changed into a sweatshirt and jeans. As he put his school shoes on the chair by the window, he looked down at the nailer's cottage. The old man had stepped away from the building into the street and was staring right up at Andrew's window. At Andrew. He thought of the scones, the hot cocoa, of his aunt waiting downstairs, but somehow he found the stranger's curious stare compelling. Then the man smiled. His teeth were very straight, large and white. Like Chiclets, Andrew thought, like dice without the dots.

"What's taking you, Andy? The scones are cooling!"

His aunt was at his door, her greying yellow apron smeared with the by-products of baking. He spun around, startled.

"Oh, Auntie, I didn't hear you coming up the stairs."

"What's out there so interesting you reckon it's worth more than a warm scone or two?" She came up beside him and looked out the window. Andrew looked as well. Nothing. No one was there, the street was deserted.

"I saw some tourists looking in the cottage and the old one tried to talk to me."

"You didn't speak with him, did you? You know what your mum says. One doesn't speak to strangers, look what happened to Wally Burdock and Gwen Shafford . They talked to strangers and both of them ended up d-e-a-d, dead."

Well, Andrew thought, that wasn't quite true. Wally, who was seventeen and in trouble with local thugs all the time, was beaten with a bat until he had terrible brain damage and his folks let the hospital take him off life support, then he died. And Gwen was raped by her stepbrother and went crazy. She was in some asylum or hospital somewhere. Still, he knew what his mum meant. She'd stopped to talk with a stranger once and the next tiling she knew after three weeks of romance, bingo, bango, no more stranger. Andrew was the result of that fiasco.

"I know. I know. I gave a good frown and came right in." He sniffed at the air. "I must have smelled them scones anyway, cause nothing ever stops me from coming in when you're baking."

His aunt grinned. "Well, then, let's have one, and I'll make you a cup of cocoa. It's getting cold outside."

Andrew followed her down the narrow stairs to the tiny kitchen. He sat down to wait. Aunt Molly had her set ways of doing things, and there would be no impatient grabbing or rushing her. She busied herself with canisters, spoons and a pan of milk.

"Tell me what you did today."

"Maths. We worked on problems. Lucky for me they're really easy."

"They are; well then, give me one and see if I can do it. It's been thirty years since I did any maths, but I'm still pretty smart for an old lady."

"You're not old, Auntie. Mum is older than you and she's still young. She says so all the time." His mouth watered at the smell of the cocoa stirred in the hot milk. His aunt set the cup before him, then went to the counter for a scone. He watched as she broke open the dusty cream-coloured mass and steam rolled out into the warm kitchen.

"Give me a problem, then, Andy. See if I can do it." She sat across from him, eager for his usual reaction to her scones.

A bit annoyed at having to speak when he wanted to eat, he licked his lips and stared at his scone. "All right, Auntie. If a train travels at 50 mph, and it took the train four hours and ten minutes to get from London to Newcastle, what is the distance from London to Newcastle?"

"Oh, my, that is a tough one. Let me think" She scratched her head and wrinkled her mouth in concentration. "Do you know the answer?"

Andrew nodded. "Do you?" He bit into the scone. It was almost too good. He swooned.

"Well, 218 miles give or take few miles. Yes?"

"It's got a decimal figure in it, but you're close. That's really good, Auntie."

They heard a key in the lock. "That'll be your mum. We should ask her to solve one of your problems."

Andrew's mother came in with her arms full of groceries. "Come help."

"Mum, my scone's getting cold."

His aunt put her hands on his shoulders. "You stay here, Andy, I'll get them."

He grinned up at his aunt then took a sip of the cocoa. She always made it a bit too rich, just the way he liked it.

While his mum and aunt put away groceries, Andrew thought about the pretty boy and old man he'd seen. He wondered why the man had spoken to him, why the boy seemed so sad. Why would he want to know if Andrew lived nearby? What could he have wanted?

"There was just an accident at the triangle. I heard in Safeway. Young boy crossing with his granddad got hit by a lorry."

Andrew spun around in his chair. "Just now?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Didn't you hear the siren? I was going to go have a look, but I have frozen puddings in my bags. What, you think you know who it might have been?"

"May I go look? Please? I might know him. I might."