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Moira Jones had owned the guest house in Palantine Road for the past twenty years. There were six letting rooms, four of them en-suite. She catered mainly for business people, company representatives, visiting engineers and the like; there was the occasional holiday maker but she was just that bit too far away from the coast. Moira had been on her own ever since cancer had taken her Trevor some three years ago. It wasn�t an easy life, but she managed, just, with help from Mary, a local girl who came in daily to help with the cleaning and the cooking. It had been one of those summer days when the heat made sweat feel like an un-needed second skin. A storm was needed to clear the air. The sky had darkened around 7-00pm. By 8-00pm it was inky black, the wind had picked up and rain drops the size of fifty pence pieces were bouncing off the pavement. Torrents of water quickly filled the gutters and gullies; then came the thunder. It started with a distant rumble and gathered into an almighty crash, causing the windows to vibrate. The lightning followed; jagged forks, racing across the sky. Somebody�s going to suffer thought Moira, hoping to God that it wouldn�t be her. She hurried to lock out the night, but stopped as she heard a knocking at the front door. Who could it be at this time of the night? She�d only two rooms vacant and she�d planned to give them a good bottoming tomorrow� but business is business. She opened the door just as the next bolt of lightning stabbed the dark. The flash momentarily lit their faces. Moira jumped back, she�d never seen anything like it. Four young men were stood on her doorstep; all dressed in black; coats, trousers, shoes; all black and, they looked like they were wearing make up! They were also very, very wet. �Your sign says vacancies. We need rooms for the night.� Moira tried to reply. �I - We � Sorry�- the words just wouldn�t come, she was babbling. Get a grip! �Please tell me you can put us up, we�re soaked through and exhausted.� Moira was in a quandary, but she couldn�t turn them away, not on a night like this. She made her mind up.� I�ve only the two rooms, she paused, then, �You�ll have to share, and its payment up front mind, cash only, �60 each per night.� There, she�d done it. �I�ll need to go to the cash point, if that�s alright.� The boy who�d done the talking disappeared into the night; the other three followed her into the hallway. In the light they looked different, almost human, except for their all black clothes and the chunky crosses around their necks, and are those safety pins through that boys lip. OOH! Moira shuddered. She led them to their rooms. � Both the rooms have hot showers;� She was feeling more herself �Have you eaten?� She asked. They shook their head. �Not since this morning, we�re famished. We were going to eat after the festival but then the storm started. It was chaos!� �Well, it�s too late for dinner, but I�ll see what I can do, come downstairs when you�re ready.� She went down to the kitchen and made a plate of sandwiches. Shortly afterwards there was a tapping at the kitchen door. �Come in.� She said, �I hope you like cocoa.� The three boys entered the kitchen. What a transformation. They were dressed in tee shirts and jeans, and without that make up and pins in their lips, just like any other teenagers thought Moira. They gratefully accepted the food and hot drinks. A knock at the door heralded their friend�s re-appearance and after a shower he joined them in the kitchen. He reached into his pocket. �Here you are love, �240. That�ll cover tonight. We�re ever so grateful for you putting us up, I don�t know what we would have done if you�d said no.� Moira pocketed the money. It was �20 per night more than she normally charged but� she had put herself out; well she had. Hadn�t she? �We�re here for the WGW.� The boy�s comments meant nothing to Moira. �You know, the Witland Goth Weekend.� Moira had heard about this event, a look of fear crept across her face. Friends in the trade had told horror stories of blood spattered walls, vomit filled sinks and unmentionable happenings in bathrooms. �We�re only pretend Goths mind, in real life we�re ordinary folk; we just like the music. The �Entrails� and �Dripping Bile� were playing today, and tomorrow �Volatile Puke� are topping the bill.� He smiled towards the others. Moira shuddered. She�d never heard those names, but horrible thoughts began to gather in her mind. Ah well, its too late now. When she woke the next morning, the storm had passed. She busied herself making breakfast and cleaning. By the time she looked up, it was ten-o- clock and she hadn�t seen the boys. She made her way upstairs and knocked on the doors. No reply, she knocked again and then used her pass key. The one room was empty; the beds were made, the bathroom clean and tidy. The other room was the same. �Ah well, I�m glad I took their money up front.� She smiled to herself. At least they hadn�t trashed her rooms. The day passed quickly; Moira with help from Mary, managed all the cleaning and bed making, then they set about preparing an evening meal. It was 8-00pm before she managed to sit down. She made a nice cup of coffee and was enjoying a sandwich and a well earned break when she heard the front door open. The boys were back. �Alright for another night love, we were going to head off but we�re so tired we just want to crash out. They were dressed in their black again, and looked even weirder � if that were possible. Moira smiled, and nodded. She hadn�t re-let the rooms. David, the spokesman proffered a pile of notes. �There you are love, �240.� She thought quickly. �Tell you what, make it �150 tonight; you didn�t have breakfast this morning and you�re too late for dinner, though, I could make you some sandwiches if you�d like.� There, her conscience was clear. �Thank you all the same, but we did manage to eat at the festival; all we want to do now is shower and sleep.� It was another lovely morning. Moira came downstairs. The keys for the boys� rooms were on the hall table alongside a huge bunch of flowers and an envelope. She shook out the contents. A greetings card with the message that read �We can�t thank you enough; this is the best B&B in the world�. She smiled. �See, you can�t tell a book from its cover.� She picked up the CD. It had a really weird sleeve, and four very squiggly signatures, followed by the message �All the best from the boys of Volatile Puke�. Return To Top |