按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
elf； carefully does it。
He traipsed through the entire house； dutifully opening cupboards and peering behind the furniture； then returned to his daughters； who were sitting at the top of the stairs。 Amanda looked small and pale； not the twenty…two…year…old woman she was； but a child again。
〃Nothing doing；〃 he told her with a smile。 〃It's Christmas morning and all through the house…〃 Gina finished the rhyme。
〃Nothing is stirring； not even a mouse。〃
〃Not even a mouse； beauty。〃 At that moment the Yattering took its cue to fling a vase off the lounge mantelpiece。
Even Jack jumped。
〃Shit；〃 he said。 He needed some sleep； but quite clearly the Yattering had no intention of letting them alone just yet。
〃Che sera； sera；〃 he murmured； scooping up the pieces of the Chinese vase； and putting them in a piece of newspaper。 〃The house is sinking a little on the left side； you know；〃 he said more loudly。 〃It has been for years。〃
〃Subsidence；〃 said Amanda with quiet certainty； 〃would not throw me out of my bed。〃 Gina said nothing。 The options were limited。 The alternatives unattractive。
〃Well； maybe it was Santa Claus；〃 said Polo； attempting levity。
He parcelled up the pieces of the vase and wandered through into the kitchen； certain that he was being shadowed every step of the way。 〃What else can it be？〃 He threw the question over his shoulder as he stuffed the newspaper into the waste bin。 〃The only other explanation…〃 here he became almost elated by his skimming so close to the truth； 〃the only other possible explanation is too preposterous for words。〃 It was an exquisite irony； denying the existence of the invisible world in the full knowledge that even now it breathed vengefully down his neck。
〃You mean poltergeists？〃 said Gina。
〃I mean anything that goes bang in the night。 But； we're grown…up people aren't we？ We don't believe in Bogeymen。〃
〃No；〃 said Gina flatly； 〃I don't； but I don't believe the house is subsiding either。〃
〃Well； it'll have to do for now；〃 said Jack with nonchalant finality。 〃Christmas starts here。 We don't want to spoil it talking about gremlins； now do we。〃 They laughed together。
Gremlins。 That surely bit deep。 To call the Hell…spawn a gremlin。
The Yattering； weak with frustration； acid tears boiling on its intangible cheeks； ground its teeth and kept its peace。
There would be time yet to beat that atheistic smile off Jack Polo's smooth； fat face。 Time aplenty。 No half…measures from now on。 No subtlety。 It would be an all out attack。
Let there be blood。 Let there be agony。 They'd all break。
Amanda was in the kitchen； preparing Christmas dinner； when the Yattering mounted its next attack。 Through the house drifted the sound of King's College Choir； 〃0 Little Town of Bethlehem； how still we see thee lie。 。 。〃 The presents had been opened； the G and T's were being downed； the house was one warm embrace from roof to cellar。
In the kitchen a sudden chill permeated the heat and the steam； making Amanda shiver； she crossed to the window； which was ajar to clear the air； and closed it。 Maybe she was catching something。
The Yattering watched her back as she busied herself about the kitchen； enjoying the domesticity for a day。 Amanda felt the stare quite clearly。 She turned round。 Nobody； nothing。 She continued to wash the Brussels sprouts； cutting into one with a worm curled in the middle。 She drowned it。
The Choir sang on。
In the lounge； Jack was laughing with Gina about something。
Then； a noise。 A rattling at first； followed by a beating of somebody's fists against a door。 Amanda dropped the knife into the bowl of sprouts； and turned from the sink； following the sound。 It was getting louder all the time。 Like something locked in one of the cupboards； desperate to escape。 A cat caught in the box； or a…Bird。
It was ing from the oven。
Amanda's stomach turned； as she began to imagine the worst。
Had she locked something in the oven when she'd put in the turkey？ She called for her father； as she snatched up the oven cloth and stepped towards the cooker； which was rocking with the panic of its prisoner。 She had visions of a basted cat leaping out at her； its fur burned off； its flesh half…cooked。
Jack was at the kitchen door。
〃There's something in the oven；〃 she said to him； as though he needed telling。 The cooker was in a frenzy； its thrashing contents had all but beaten off the door。
He took the oven cloth from her。 This is a new one； he thought。 You're better than I judged you to be。 This is clever。 This is original。
Gina was in the kitchen now。
〃What's cooking？〃 she quipped。
But the joke was lost as the cooker began to dance； and the pans of boiling water were twitched off the burners on to the floor。 Scalding water seared Jack's leg。 He yelled； stumbling back into Gina； before diving at the cooker with a yell that wouldn't have shamed a Samurai。
The oven handle was slippery with heat and grease； but he seized it and flung the door down。
A wave of steam and blistering heat rolled out of the oven； smelling of succulent turkey…fat。 But the bird inside had apparently no intentions of being eaten。 It was flinging itself from side to side on the roasting tray； tossing gouts of gravy in all directions。 Its crisp brown wings pitifully flailed and flapped； its legs beat a tattoo on the roof of the oven。
Then it seemed to sense the open door。 Its wings stretched themselves out to either side of its stuffed bulk and it half hopped； half fell on to the oven door； in a mockery of its living self。 Headless； oozing stuffing and onions； it flopped around as though nobody had told the damn thing it was dead； while the fat still bubbled on its bacon…strewn back。
Amanda screamed。
Jack dived for the door as the bird lurched into the air； blind but vengeful。 What it intended to do once it reached its three cowering victims was never discovered。 Gina dragged Amanda into the hallway with her father in hot pursuit； and the door was slammed closed as the blind bird flung itself against the panelling； beating on it with all its strength。 Gravy seeped through the gap at the bottom of the door； dark and fatty。
The door had no lock； but Jack reasoned that the bird was not capable of turning the handle。 As he backed away； breathless； he cursed his confidence。 The opposition had more up its sleeve than he'd guessed。
Amanda was leaning against the wall sobbing； her face stained with splotches of turkey grease。 All she seemed able to do was deny what she'd seen； shaking her head and repeating the word 〃no〃 like a talisman against the ridiculous horror that was still throwing itself against the door。 Jack escorted her through to the lounge。 The radio was still crooning carols which blotted out the din of the bird； but their promises of goodwill seemed small fort。
Gina poured a hefty brandy for her sister and sat beside her on the sofa； plying her with spirits and reassurance in about equal measure。 They made little impression on Amanda。
〃What was that？〃 Gina asked her father； in a tone that demanded an answer。
〃I don't know what it was；〃 Jack rep