The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

It was a long walk down to Strutts. The only way to get there before dark would be to take a bus. He checked for change in his pocket and raced to the bus stop where a bus had just pulled up. It was the number 14 that stopped right across from the Methodist chapel at the bus station. Just his luck.

Though the bus was crowded, he got a seat by the window behind the driver. He watched the people walking determinedly up and down the streets, the cars moving ever so slowly in the traffic of the A6. Another bus crawled along going in the opposite direction. They were across from each other at one point. Andrew stared into the other bus, scanning the faces. He stopped at the old man, the one he had seen by the cottage. He was sitting with his arm around another boy, smiling his dicey smile, and listening to the boy's animated chatter. Andrew felt a flurry of butterflies in his belly before he really looked at the boy, knowing anyway that it was Frank Delaney.

Andrew spun in his seat, hands to the windows, and shouted Frank's name. "Frank, Frank. Oh, no" The bus driver asked Andrew to quiet down, but Andrew had already gone silent. He kept his eyes on the bus as it ambled on in the other direction. He wasn't certain, but he thought that for a second the old man looked right at him.

He got off at King Street and walked back up towards home. When he told his mum and auntie what was going on, they would understand why he was late. He hoped so. Nothing else had gone right that day.

"It's none of your business what that Frank Delaney does with his life, Andy. If he wants to run off with the Queen, he can, but you have your own life to live."

His mother started on him before dinner and it was now his bedtime. His auntie had listened carefully and said, "What a shame." But when his mum got home, Molly retold Andrew's story with unusual histrionics. She used expressions like "kidnapped" and "paedophile", working his mum into a frantic state.

"And if he was kidnapped, all the better then that you keep away from that boy. Frank finds trouble where there isn't any, isn't that right, Molly?"

Aunt Molly was wringing her hands and nodding. "At least the authorities know who he is and where he's staying. That old man isn't going to get far."

Andrew's mum made moaning noises in her throat. "Let's call the police. It can't hurt. If it's innocent, then we'll just feel like fools, but if Frank was kidnapped, they'll be glad of our call."

As his mum and auntie got on the telephone, Andrew sneaked out the back door. He had to get over to Frank's. The bus had been going in the direction of his house. It could all have been innocent. Couldn't it?

This time, when Mrs Delaney answered the door, a strange man barked from upstairs to get back to him. She looked dishevelled in her bathrobe and her face flushed in the light of the foyer.

"What's it now? You get it wrong again? Were you supposed to meet up at school then?"

"You mean Frank's not here?"

She shuddered at his anxious tone. "No, Frank is not here. What is going on, Andrew Crawford?"

Andrew looked down at his feet. "I think he's gone off with someone. I saw him on the bus with the old man whose ward was killed at the triangle last week. I thought maybe they were coming here."

Though she looked a bit panicked, Mrs Delaney held her robe shut at her throat and said, "Frankie does as he pleases. He's tough enough to take care of himself. I'll worry if he don't come home for days. He's like his brother that way." The man's voice came from upstairs again, more insistent this time. Mrs Delaney lowered her voice to Andrew. "Don't you worry, Andrew Crawford. Frankie's all right. Go home." Then she shut the door on him, again.

He ran home, hoping his mum and auntie were consumed by the police and hadn't noticed he'd gone, but there they were, in the street, a police van pulled up to the house, two coppers talking to them.

"Where the hell did you go, you stupid, stupid boy?" His mother grabbed his arm and yanked him into the house. "You knew you'd scare me to death, didn't you?" She was slapping at him. He kept his arms up as she flailed. "How dare you!"

His Aunt Molly came in with the police officers and shouted for her sister to stop. One of the police officers grabbed at his mum. His Aunt Molly swept him into her arms.

"Mrs, it's no good hitting the boy. Stop. Relax. We'll talk to him."

"Bernadette, go upstairs and wash your face in cold water. I'll talk with Andy and the police. Go on."

His mum ripped herself from the policeman's grasp and growled, foam at the corners of her mouth. "You'll do no such thing. He's my son. I'll deal with him."

The constable shook his head. "Mrs, do as your sister says. You take this into your own hands, you'll be leaving with us ."

Andrew tried not to cry, but he couldn't stop himself. He was more afraid than he was sad, but tears came anyway.

"Look what you've done, Bernadette. Andrew's in tears. Go upstairs. Go, now."