Werewolf Stories to Tell in the Dark (10 page)

‘Really?' she said crisply.

‘Due to some faulty equipment I'm going to have to ask you to bring your son in again for another session. I'm just not very satisfied with the results.'

‘I see.' Her voice was sharp.

‘I'm very sorry. Of course the session will be completely free and –'

‘Don't apologize.' The mention of a free session seemed to have mollified her. ‘As it happens, I've decided I would also like a portrait of myself. To send to friends, you understand.'

‘Of course.'

‘I haven't had my portrait taken in years. I would like to see myself – as I really am.'

‘Will this afternoon be convenient?'

‘It will. About three. Just after William gets out of school.'

Uncle Harry put down the phone and winked at me. ‘She took that on the chin, didn't she?' He seemed relieved and back to his old self, but the whole business had left me feeling rather uneasy.

Mrs Ralph and her son William were prompt, and even more fashionably dressed than before. She had brought
the cushion with her and suggested that the ‘mistake' over William's photograph should be rectified first.

Uncle Harry agreed and began to fuss over the prim little boy, arranging and rearranging him on the sofa, checking the camera angles and lighting and more surreptitiously double-checking the equipment.

Eventually the child's photograph was taken. Then Mrs Ralph removed the cushion and sat down on the sofa herself. It was a particularly bitter wintry afternoon and she was wearing a black astrakhan coat, black stockings, and a black hat with a short black veil. Only her aquiline face glowed in the hard lighting of the studio. She crossed her legs, leant back on the sofa and gave an amused smile that made her look even more sophisticated.

Uncle Harry took shot after shot and then pronounced himself satisfied.

‘I'm hoping your photographic equipment is working better this time,' she smiled.

‘I'm sure it is,' replied Uncle Harry too eagerly. ‘When would you like the prints?'

‘Would six tonight be too early?' she asked.

‘Well – it would be a bit –'

‘You see, I have to give them to a friend – as a little present.'

‘I see. Well –' Uncle Harry looked at his watch. ‘It's a tight deadline but I'll try for you.'

‘We'll see you at six then,' Mrs Ralph said commandingly, and turned briskly to her little son. ‘Come, William, we must hurry.'

‘My God!'

‘What's happened?'

Uncle Harry came out of the dark room looking so white and ghastly that I thought he must have had a heart attack.

‘It's unbelievable.'

‘What is?'

But he had darted back into the darkroom, and I tore in after him. There, floating in the developing tray, were two prints. One showed a wolf cub sitting on the cushion as before. The other depicted a large female wolf with huge fangs, sprawled on a sofa. The eyes were menacing – and unmistakably belonged to Mrs Ralph.

‘It's her,' I said woodenly.

‘Who?' Uncle Harry gazed at me in gathering bewilderment.

‘Mrs Ralph.'

‘She's a
wolf
?' he asked incredulously.

‘I don't understand.' I was close to tears. ‘I just don't understand. There must be something wrong somewhere.'

‘But it's not the equipment,' he said decisively. ‘It can't be – I've checked out every little bit of it.'

‘Then what is it?' I asked desperately. ‘How does the mistake happen?'

‘
Is
it a mistake?' Uncle Harry sounded as if he were talking to himself. Then he looked at his watch, staring at its face for a long time as if he couldn't believe that either.

‘What's the time?' I asked nervously.

‘Just before six. They'll be here soon.'

‘Don't open the downstairs door,' I pleaded, swept by a wave of blind panic.

‘I left it ajar.' His voice was grim.

He had, I remembered now, and I was sure I could hear footsteps. But they weren't footsteps. More like the padding of paws on the stairs, quick and determined …

‘
So that's how you got the scar on your neck?' said Tom
.

‘
I don't want to talk about it any more,' replied Kim
.

The door of the next-door cabin opened with a rasp
.

Fearfully they all scrambled for their bunks and lay there, listening to the dark. Mrs Henshaw had such large teeth
…

Anthony Masters was renowned as an adult novelist, short story writer and biographer, but was best known for his fiction for young people.

Many of his novels carry deep insights into social problems, which he experienced over four decades by helping the socially excluded. He ran soup kitchens for drug addicts and campaigned for the civic rights of gypsies and other ethnic minorities. Masters is also known for his eclectic range of non-fiction titles, ranging from the biographies of such diverse personalities as the British secret service chief immortalized by Ian Fleming in his James Bond books (
The Man Who Was M: the Life of Maxwell Knight
).

His children's fiction included teenage novels and the ground breaking Weird World series of young adult horror, published by Bloomsbury. He also worked with children both in schools and at art festivals. Anthony Masters died in 2003.

Discover books by Anthony Masters published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/AnthonyMasters

A Pocketful of Rye
Confessional
Finding Joe
Ghost Blades
Hidden Gods
Murder Is a Long Time Coming
The Men
The Seahorse

Children and Young Adult Books
Cries of Terror
Dead Man at the Door
Ghost Stories to Tell in the Dark
Horror Stories to Tell in the Dark
I Want Him Dead
Nightmare in New York
Scary Tales to Tell in the Dark
Vampire Stories to Tell in the Dark
Werewolf Stories to tell in the Dark

For copyright reasons, any images not belonging to the original author have been
removed from this book. The text has not been changed, and may still contain
references to missing images.

This electronic edition published in 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP

First published in Great Britain 1996 by Puffin Books

Copyright © 1996 Anthony Masters

All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise
make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
(including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,
printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the
publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The moral right of the author is asserted.

eISBN: 9781448213740

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