until help arrives.
According to an inside source, the President, when asked if special precautions were being made available to protect the public, said, “That’s very possible.” Once again, I tell the readers of The Nightly Express: “Do not panic.”’
Valeeta put the paper down. Victor stared across at his wife. They saw fear in each other’s eyes. Valeeta thought that Victor would find it very difficult to compete magically with Vernon as he was so out of practice and also completely out of condition – so much so that he became out of breath falling asleep. They slowly and quietly finished their evening breakfast, each with his own thoughts. Victor had silently made up his mind to see his son Valentine, the President. After all, what were friends and relatives in high places for?
* * *
Vernon strolled about Katchem in secret. No-one saw him, he made sure of that. The village was almost deserted, hardly a soul was to be seen, except for the police, and even they were not walking alone as usual, but in sets of eight. Vernon was thrilled that he had caused so much confusion and fear. Considering the fact that Katchem only had eight policemen, Vernon found it relatively easy to avoid the whole of Katchem’s police force at once. He walked in and out of the shadows of the streets he knew so well, past Motherscares and Boots the Cobblers.
Fear was beginning to show itself, from the highest person in the land to the lowest.
* * *
In the oblong room at the presidential house Valentine sat with his wife Areta. His young son, Virgil, had been packed off to bed, with a nanny they could trust and a servant to sleep outside the young boy’s room. It was the first time Valentine and Areta had seen each other all day as he had been so busy trying to get things planned and organised with regard to Vernon while still running the whole country.
‘How did things go, my dear?’ she asked with concern in her voice.
‘Terrible,’ was the quick reply. ‘We hardly did anything and ended nowhere. Sometimes I think that the Council and the Senators are all so interested in themselves that they forget about the people who put them there.’ He paused and asked the time.
‘It’s almost nine o’clock.’ She held his hand.
‘Oh well, I expect Victor and Valeeta will be here soon,’ he sighed. ‘They will have read the news, and now night has come they will be able to travel, so I think they will be here fairly soon.’
‘Why don’t you lie down and get some rest before they get here?’ She smiled gently at her husband.
* * *
Victor and Valeeta were almost at the presidential palace and had turned in order to make a good landing as near to the front door as possible. Valeeta made a superb landing, right on the path itself, slowly letting herself to the ground and at the same time powdering her nose. She landed very gently, so gently that she continued walking along the path without one little trip or scuff of her shoes. It was the type of landing that other Vampires would have applauded, a professional’s touch.
Victor glided towards the trees in order to get away from what he called ‘a cross wind’. He glided rather too quickly and the blustery wind took hold of him, taking him every which way, so much so that as he came into his final approach he had no control at all. He landed, slap, bang, with a heavy wallop into the middle of a large patch of stinging nettles, face down, arms by his side and his legs so crossed that his left leg looked like his right one and vice versa. Everything was wrong and against all the rules he had been taught in the V.A.F. (Vampirian Air Force). His top hat was jammed almost over his eyes, squashing the end of his long nose against his top lip, while his Savile Row flying cloak was wrapped around his neck, almost choking him. He did look a sight.
The scream Victor made when he realised he was in a patch of stinging nettles was so loud that it almost made Areta, inside the presidential house, jump out of her skin. Valentine soothed her by telling her that it would be his parents. Within minutes they were all in the oblong office greeting each other.
Areta watched as Valentine held his mother by the throat as gently and as softly as a breeze, a sure sign of Vampirian affection. Victor also looked on, smiling his approval.
‘What was that noise I heard out there?’ the President asked politely.
‘Who else but your father? He made a terrible landing in a rather large patch of nettles. Lucky for him that your guards were there to help him out. Anyway, it serves him right.’ She looked at her husband as if to say, ‘I love you, but you are a fool.’
Victor thought it was time to defend himself. ‘Ya. It vos the cross vind, it vent across me.’ They all looked at him as he started to scratch and blow on an angry-looking nettle rash.
‘Cross wind, my eye teeth,’ Valeeta said. ‘You are an old fibber,’ she added, with a tiny amount of affection. ‘It was because you are carrying too much weight. Since you retired from being King, you have put on at least a stone and a half in weight. Just look at that belly.’ They all looked where she was pointing and saw a shirt that was stretching over a larger area than it was made for and, here and there, quite a lot of exposed pink tummy, which was beginning to look like expertly blown bubble gum.
‘Vot you are sayink is a lie. Never am I puttink on a stone ant a half in veight, never. An ounce or two, maybe.’
‘An ounce or two, an ounce or two. What rhubarb you talk. Who was it who couldn’t tie his shoelaces when he got up this evening, because he couldn’t bend over? Who had to tie them for him? Me!’ The ex-Queen had a smug look on her face. Victor looked down at his shoes, but he couldn’t see them for his tummy. He looked back at his family and with his eyes asked them all if he was too plump and over-weight. They all nodded with a smile. It was the first time Valentine had smiled that day.
Valentine was the first to broach the subject of Vernon by saying, ‘I’m glad you could both be here. I take it that you have read the papers?’
‘Ve only get the von, The Nightly Express.’
‘Well, that paper carried the story about … you know who.’ He looked away from the old King and Queen. He knew how upset they both must be. After all, Vernon was their son. Valeeta was sitting in a straightbacked chair with her husband standing behind her. They looked very regal.
The Queen was the first to speak, ‘Yes, my dear, we saw the paper and that’s why we are here. We’ve talked it over, your Father and I, and we feel that we would like to help you to … er … get … have … er … Vernon put away for a, well a long time … maybe for ever.’ She was finding it difficult to speak. ‘Or better still, out of the country altogether, deported, I think they call it.’
When the Queen had finished speaking there was a silence. The only movement in the room was Victor, scratching his nettle rash. Valentine walked round the large room before speaking. He stopped and looked directly at the only two parents he had ever known, two Vampires. They had found him and they had reared him. What he was about to say could be hurtful and difficult.
‘I have to be honest with you both. I don’t think that deporting Vernon, or even putting him away for a long time is the right thing to do.’ He held his hand up to stop what was going to be an interruption from the Queen. She stiffened a little, not being used to having to be silent. But, after all, she was an ex-Queen and Valentine was
