(I’ve decided to put up the ninth part in two sections, as a reassurance that it’s actually getting written.  I’ve had the tenth part finished for a while now- it’s just this one that’s causing me problems.  Part 9b will be up soon.  A lot sooner than this was, anyway.)

Saturday Night- Grandpa Buckland

When they’d got to the restaurant, Sandy had seen a little patch of grass around the side of the building, with a sickly, spindly oak tree near the edge.  That was good.  She could use that.

Grandpa Buckland was admiring his glass of wine from underneath, as if he wanted to see how the restaurant would look if it was yellow and covered in bubbles.  “This is rare stuff,” he told her, “I don’t think there’s anywhere in a hundred miles that makes a blend as soft as this.”

Sandy forced a laugh.  “Grandpa, I don’t know what half those words mean.”  For the nineteenth or twentieth time, she glanced out of the windows at the stony white courtyard in front.  Still empty.  It wouldn’t be for long.

Grandpa Buckland laughed.  He was permanently jolly, all thick grey hair, expensive sunglasses, an aftershave that you could smell three metres away.  “Sorry.  I keep forgetting that not everyone’s an old drunk like me.”  He looked at the glass again, then added, “Would you like a sip?”

“No thanks.  You enjoy it.”  She glanced outside again.  Still empty.  She thought she knew what she had to do tonight, but she’d have to be careful.  You always did, when people like Mrs Jaeger were involved.

Grandpa Buckland shrugged, and took her advice.  “Probably just as well.  I remember when I took your father out for his thirteenth birthday.  I ordered Grey Goose, but I didn’t notice how often he was filling his glass until it was too late.  He spent the next morning in bed with a pounding headache.  Your grandmother hit the roof.”

“God, really?” asked Sandy.  Grandma Faith had died before she was born, but she and Grandpa Buckland had been divorced for a long time before that.  Sandy thought she could probably see why.

“Really.  I tell you, Sandy, there’s nothing as scary as an angry Irishwoman when she’s got you in her sights.  She almost…”

And Grandpa Buckland’s words faded away, because Sandy had just seen a small figure waiting out in the courtyard.  An old woman with straggly hair and sharp yellow fingernails.

Sandy swallowed, choking down any hint of a scream, and turned back to her grandfather.  “Is it OK if I use the loo?” she asked. 

Grandpa Buckland chuckled.  “OK, but hurry up.  Starters will be here in a minute, and your plate is probably going to look pretty tempting to me if you’re not here.”

At that moment, Sandy couldn’t even remember what she’d ordered.  She couldn’t imagine eating anything ever again.  “OK.  I’ll be quick.”  She got up and headed to the entrance.

It hadn’t been that loud in the restaurant, but in the courtyard, it seemed as if all the sound had suddenly died off.  No cars on the road nearby.  No birds in the trees and bushes.  No wind to disturb anything.  Just Mrs Jaeger, standing there with her hands in her pockets, waiting for Sandy. 

“You ready?” she asked.

Sandy nodded.  Her head felt as if it weighed ten tonnes.  “But not here.  Not where people can see.”

Mrs Jaeger scratched her chin.  “Then where do you suggest?”

Sandy looked around for the patch of grass with the oak tree.  For one crazy moment, she was convinced that it would have disappeared and left her with nothing to back her up, but there it was, right where she remembered.  “Round the side, there?”

Mrs Jaeger took a long, careful look at it, then nodded.  “Alright, then.  Round the side.”

She didn’t move, so Sandy turned and walked towards the patch of grass.  She glanced behind her, and saw Mrs Jaeger gradually begin to gather herself up and follow her.  Sandy turned back to the tree.  Maybe if she could get it to move, she could have.

Something hit Sandy in the back of the head, and she fell to her knees.

“Shouldn’t have turned your back on me, should you?” Mrs Jaeger cried out in glee.  She was still three or four yards behind Sandy, which shouldn’t have been surprising.  Somebody like her didn’t need her actual fists to hit you.

Sandy barely had time to scramble onto the grass before it happened again- something rose up from the ground and hit her on the chin, slamming her jaw shut with a painful scraping of teeth against teeth.  She looked around for the tree, and something else gripped the hair on the back of her head and pulled sharply.  For an instant, Sandy found herself looking up at the clouds…

…but an instant was all it took, because thunder rumbled and the clouds burst with rain.  A flash of lightening lit up the sky, and Mrs Jaeger cried out in alarm and ran away just in time.  Whatever had been pulling Sandy’s hair loosened its grip, and she scrambled to her feet.

(To be concluded.)