Blood Beast. Darren Shan

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      “You know I’ll be back early Sunday afternoon,” he reminds me.

      “I know.”

      “If I walk in and find pools of puke and mountains of rubbish…”

      “You won’t,” I assure him. “There aren’t many coming, and a few are sleeping over to help clean up in the morning. The only thing is, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do all the laundry before you return.”

      “That’s fine,” Dervish says, then raises an eyebrow. “Those staying over are all boys, I presume?”

      “Of course.”

      “They’d better be. Because if I find out otherwise…”

      “You won’t.”

      “Good.”

      The pair of massive front doors are already open. Dervish walks out, breathing in fresh spring air. “It’s supposed to be cold over the weekend,” he says. “Don’t leave the windows open or the house will be freezing.”

      “I have everything in hand,” I tell him.

      “I doubt it.” He climbs on to his bike.

      “Say hi to Meera from me.”

      “Sure.”

      “Give her a kiss from me too.”

      “Funny guy.” Then without a goodbye he’s off, tearing down the driveway, already approaching the speed limit — and he’s only warming up. If everyone drove like my maniac of an uncle, the roads would be awash with blood.

      → This isn’t the first time Dervish has left me alone in the house, but it’s the first time he’s left me in total control. Before, the understanding was always that I was simply holding the fort. No parties. This time he’s as good as said the house is mine for the next forty-odd hours, to do with as I wish.

      It feels strange. I find myself thinking of everything that could go wrong — broken windows, smashed vases, someone stumbling into Dervish’s study and turning into a frog. I half wish I could cancel. I’ve been to a couple of wild parties with Loch over the last few months and never worried about what we were doing, the mess we were making, what would happen to the kids who lived there when their parents returned. Now the shoe’s on my foot, I realise what a risky undertaking it is. Maybe I should pull a sickie and call the whole thing off.

      The phone rings. Loch. It’s as if he’s sensed my wavering mood and is intervening to sway me back into party mode. “Has Dervish gone?” he asks.

      “Yes.”

      “Good. I didn’t want to discuss it at school – too many ears – but what about booze? Yay or nay?”

      “That might be a bit much,” I mutter. “Things will probably be wild enough if everyone’s sober.”

      “Yeah, it’ll be wilder if everyone’s drunk,” Loch laughs, “but a lot more fun! I was thinking about all those bottles of wine in the cellar…”

      “No way,” I snap. “Most are expensive. Very expensive. Nobody goes near the wine. That’s a golden rule. If anyone breaks it, I’ll kick you all out.”

      “Spoilsport,” Loch grumbles. “Well, what about beer? I could ask one of my older cousins to get us a crate or two.”

      “I’d rather you didn’t.”

      “You’re not wimping out, are you?” he asks suspiciously.

      “Well…” I start.

      “Good,” Loch says quickly. “Let’s forget about the booze then. If anybody brings some, great. If not, we’ll just muddle by sober. Fair enough?”

      “Yeah,” I say unhappily. “I guess.”

      “Great. See you in the morning. Oh, and I’ll be bringing Reni, to help carry the bags. Is that OK?”

      “Sure,” I say, spirits lifting, instantly forgetting about my reservations. “That’ll be… fine. Yeah. Whatever.”

      A short laugh, then Loch hangs up, leaving me to get on with the planning of the party.

      → Loch, Reni and I make three runs to the village. Frank and Leon join us on the last run, when we realise we need more hands. It’s brilliant spending so much time with Reni, walking beside her in and out of Carcery Vale, discussing the party, bands, politics… whatever she feels like talking about.

      Loch offers to chip in with some money for the drinks and food, but I tell him it’s OK. Dervish is rich – there’s a family fortune knocking about which will one day be mine and Bill-E’s – and he never begrudges me anything. He left a wad of cash for me in his study and told me to make good use of it.

      Reni does a lot of the organising. I spent a couple of hours last night drawing up a list of everything we might need and was more than a little pleased with myself. She took one look at the list this morning, laughed and tore it up. “Is Jesus coming?” she asked.

      “Uh… no,” I replied, astonished.

      “Then forget about the loaves and fishes miracle. What you had on that list wouldn’t have got us through to nine o’clock. Now, fetch me a fresh pad and pen — this needs a woman’s considered touch.”

      Much as I hate to admit it, she was right. Carrying the supplies back from Carcery Vale, it feels like we’ve bought far too much — we could feed the starving millions with this lot. But by the time we’ve divided it out into plates and bowls, and distributed them around the three main party rooms – two big living rooms and the kitchen – there doesn’t look to be a whole load.

      “Maybe we need to make another run,” Frank muses, opening a bag of crisps.

      “Maybe you need to stop snacking before anyone arrives,” Reni retorts, grabbing the bag from him. “No,” she says, casting a professional eye around. “This will do. Any more would be a waste.” She checks her watch. “I’m going home to get ready. And you boys…” She wrinkles her nose and pulls a face. “Ever heard of showers?”

      She leaves. I look around at Loch, Frank and Leon. They stare back. Then we all raise an arm and sniff.

      PARTY ANIMAL

      → The party’s not set to start until seven, but the first guests begin arriving soon after six. I’m nervous and twitchy, worrying about where their coats should go, if there’s enough food and drink, if anyone’s smuggled in anything they shouldn’t have. But as more arrive and the laughter and buzz of voices increase, I begin to relax as I realise people are having fun.

      Not everyone who comes was on the invitation list, but there’s nothing I can do about that. If I turned them away, I’d sour the atmosphere. A few blow-ins have to expected at any party.

      Loch and Frank help (Leon can’t make it until nine), opening the front doors and greeting СКАЧАТЬ