Monster by C.J. Skuse Page A

yeah, I’m sure I could ask Matron. Though I don’t know about going into town. And I’d have to be back for Prep at six o’clock.’
    ‘That’s all right. We could hang out here, but there’s not much to do in the village really. There’s crazy golf up at the Gorge and some caves and shops and stuff. I think there’sa petting zoo or something as well. It’ll be dead quiet now it’s winter.’
    ‘Will your dad let you off work though? You seem to be quite in demand here.’
    ‘Yeah, no worries. I’m due some time off. And anyway, it’s Christmas, right? Spirit of goodwill and all that. I’ll handle him, don’t worry.’
    The
Gorge,
I thought, scrolling in my head through the number of times of Bathory girls had said they’d been taken ‘up the Gorge’ by some boy or another. It was
the
hot spot in Bathory for first dates, first kisses, first anythings with a boy. I felt so proud Charlie had asked me, I could have sprouted wings from both shoulders.
    Before my mind could list all the other obstacles, problems and worries I just said, ‘Yes, I’d love to.’
    He smiled back at me, brilliantly, and it was like the sun came out in my chest.

10
Village of the Damned
    T he shop bell tinkled and an old woman came in, wearing thick brown snow boots and dragging a shopping trolley behind her, its two wheels caked with mud. She had a waxed hat pulled down over her face, and her woollen coat was covered in white dog hairs.
    ‘Afternoon, Mrs Renfield,’ Charlie called out. Mrs Renfield grunted a greeting and went about her business. I was on tiptoes reaching for the Frosties when Charlie beckoned me back to the counter. ‘Got to keep an eye on her. Likes the odd five-finger discount.’ I could feel his breath on my ear.
    I smiled at him and watched as Mrs Renfield made her way over to the bookshelves where Regan had picked up a thin pamphlet on Bathory folklore. No doubt she was lookingfor information about the dreaded Beast. ‘For God’s sake,’ I muttered.
    ‘What’s up?’ said Charlie at the till, as he rang through some sweets for three local kids.
    ‘Regan and this Beast thing. She doesn’t shut up about it. It’s really annoying.’
    ‘The Beast of Bathory?’
    ‘Yeah. She’s obsessed with it.’
    ‘You seen it yet?’
    I frowned. The kids had moved over to the magazines and were laughing at some pictures in one of the papers.
    ‘No, no one’s seen it, that’s the point. It doesn’t exist.’
    ‘It does, Nash,’ said Charlie. ‘There’s too many people round here who’ve seen it in action.’
    Regan’s ears had pricked up. Now she scuttled over. ‘How do you mean, seen it in action?’
    ‘I mean, seen it tear apart their dogs, or had people they’ve known go missing.’ Dianna came over too, and passed him her full basket of Matron’s shopping. He totalled it up. ‘Thirty-five pounds seventy-two pence, please.’
    She gave him Matron’s forty pounds and took the change. ‘Can I cancel the newspaper delivery for the school as well, please, while I’m here?’
    I frowned. ‘Did Matron ask you to cancel it?’
    She looked at me. ‘Yes. Is there a problem?’
    ‘No, not at all,’ I said.
    Then it was back to the land of make-believe.
    ‘People have actually
seen
it kill things?’ said Regan, eyes wild.
    ‘Yeah. Old Mr Renfield has for a start, hasn’t he, Mrs R?’
    ‘Caw, has he?’ said the woman. ‘Bloody thing took enough sheep to put us out of the farm years back.’ Theold woman came waddling over to us. ‘Did all we could, but there was no stopping it. Came in the night it did. Always came in the night and always at this time of year.’ She parked her backside on a small wooden stool on the customers’ side of the counter.
    ‘It ate your sheep?’ said Dianna.
    ‘Some of ‘em,’ she replied. ‘Others it killed and left. Some had broken necks, some of ‘em ripped right down the front and hollowed out. You heard about that nice Mr Pellett from the