The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

Andrew was now more curious than before. Turkey . He'd never much thought about people living there, though he'd heard of it in geography. What he did know was that he loved Turkish delight. The rosy jelly centre with the yummy chocolate all around made him think of the occasional bouts of happiness his mother had, when she bought them a bag of sweets, always with some Turkish delight for Andrew. Did Turkish delight originate in Turkey? Was the jelly part Turkish or the chocolate or both? For once, he couldn't wait for Monday. He'd go straight to the school library after class.

The library was a small room that had once been a supply cabinet and coat room. Books lined every wall and two half-sized bookcases divided the room. Paintings done by the infants covered the wall over the librarian's desk. Andrew loved the smell of the books and the ancient oiled tables where students could read. The library was empty except for Miss Eklund, a woman the kids called the Swede. She was in her fifties, wore her hair clipped short, had funny little hairs on her chin and smelled of men's aftershave. The Swede was actually a wrestler, and Miss Eklund had a stocky build like a man, hence the moniker. She let the girls get away with murder and slapped the back of boys' heads if they spoke.

He had a book on Turkey when Frank appeared around the corner. He grabbed at Andrew's sleeve to see the book. He scanned it then looked over at Miss Eklund who was deep into stamping loan cards.

"Hey, you get in trouble when you got in Friday?"

"Naw. You?"

"Hell, no. Nobody comes home until late at my house. My dad goes straight to the pub from work and my mum well, she's with her friends a lot. Nick's living with his girlfriend in Sheffield now, so it's just me."

"Did you see anything after I left?"

Frank took the book on Turkey from Andrew's hand. "Hey, did you know that the old guy is from Turkey? I was standing there while this lady was asking him about the kid."

Andrew put the book under his arm. "Yeah? Really? What'd you hear? I read the newspaper but it doesn't say much."

"He was staying at the Hollingshead Hotel. The kid wasn't his grandson, but a friend of the family. He was taking the kid to the baths because he had some kind of illness. Leukaemia or something. Hell, the baths don't do anything and anybody who knows something knows that. It's just a tourist attraction. A joke, really."

"Wow. I saw the kid. He looked sad or sick. Weak like. Maybe he was going to die anyway." Andrew watched Frank's face grow more animated.

"Or maybe the old guy pushed the kid in front of the lorry to make sure he didn't suffer. Hey, that would be sinister, like when"

Miss Eklund drifted over to the boys. "You two want to make conversation, do it outside. This is a library. We don't converse in the library."

Frank winked at Andrew and fled. Andrew checked the book out to take home.

Frank wasn't in school the next day. Andrew wanted to share his discoveries about Turkey with him, not that it was the kind of thing Frank would have wanted to know. Turkey was right near Russia. It had the Black Sea on one side and the Mediterranean on the other. The country had its own language, called Turkish. He hadn't gone far enough in the book to learn if Turkish delight came from Turkey, though. He also read that they had bad earthquakes there. Maybe Frank would find all the deaths that came from their earthquakes interesting. That was the kind of thing he found fascinating. On his way home, he stopped by Frank's. Mrs Delaney answered the door.

"Is Frank at home?"

Her face screwed up and she leaned over to put her nose about an inch from Andrew's. She stank of brandy. "Well, now, he's supposed to be with you, Mr Andrew Crawford, so I should be asking you just that thing. He told me he was going to meet you on the tarmac and you were both going to the church to see about helping that old man."

"To the church" Andrew tried to recall which church that might be. "Well, I must've got it wrong, Mrs Delaney. I thought we were meeting here. I'd better get on to the church then, hadn't I?" He smiled sheepishly.

"You two aren't cooking something up together, are you?"

"No, Mrs Delaney. We honestly want to make the man feel better. His kid was about our age and we just thought"

"How nice. You had better get going, Andrew. It'll be dark soon." She shut the door before he could reply.

Why hadn't Frank told him he was going to the church? And which church? He couldn't recall. He walked down to the Catholic church which was closest and looked for someone to help him. A washerwoman told him the old man was staying with a family up by Strutts School. The Methodist chapel was where they were coordinating aid for the Turkish man. He thanked the woman and started off in the direction of Strutts. It occurred to him that his Aunt Molly would be sick with worry if he didn't stop home first. But then he risked being told he couldn't go at all.