All Creatures Late and Small

In her bedroom, Amelia whispered, and the rat squeaked back, like her father pretending to understand interior design.

Charlotte Evans closed her eyes and massaged her temples. If she’d known teaching her daughter to care for others would lead to a rodent in the house, she’d have skipped the lesson. But teaching your child these things was essential to motherhood. Otherwise, the other parents at the school gate might look down their noses at them both. That’s why she’d allowed this insanity to go on. But Charlotte had insisted the ugly grey thing had to stay in a cage. The damn thing would probably try to eat her wainscotting.

She rapped her knuckles on the bedroom door and then entered without waiting for a response. ‘Amelia, darling, are you ready for school, sweetheart?’

Amelia sat in her school uniform on her pink princess duvet that her mother had lovingly forced on her. On her lap was the rat cage, covered with a pillowcase. She held a corner up, but when Charlotte entered, she dropped it and looked at her mother like a rabbit eyeing a snake.

She grimaced. Not on the bed, not on the bed! It’d take her forever to get the rat poop out of those silk sheets. And what was with the pillowcase? Had the damned thing died in there, and Amelia was trying to cover it up? Sure smelled like it. She forced a fake smile through plastic cheeks. ‘How’s Albert doing, honey?’

Amelia’s forehead furrowed. ‘Albrecht.’

Not this again. ‘Honey, Albrecht isn’t a name.’

The girl’s knotted eyebrows remained entangled. ‘Well, it’s his name,’ she said, lowering her gaze to the shrouded cage. ‘He told me so. And he’s doing much better.’

Charlotte’s clenched jaw threatened to snap some teeth. ‘Whatever, sweetie. Listen, now that he’s better, we should think about releasing him back where he belongs.’

The girl’s lower lip protruded. ‘But I don’t wanna! I saved him. Albrecht’s mine!’

Time for some good old motherly wisdom. God, why was parenting such a chore? Charlotte sat on the bed, far enough away from the rat cage that its filth wouldn’t touch her. ‘Darling, if you love something,’ she said, quoting the line on the tote bag she’d seen while shopping. ‘Then you have to let it go.’

Amelia stared at the cage. She stroked the pillowcase with a hand bearing a couple of bite marks. ‘Will he be safe out there? It’s dangerous for his kind.’

Jesus, didn’t these things carry the plague or something? Charlotte would run it under a cold tap. If it got any worse, she’d bring out the chewable paracetamol. ‘He’ll be fine. Now that you’ve nursed him back to full health, he’ll be even stronger than before. You can tell the whole class about how you saved a poor, defenseless creature, as your mother taught you.’

Amelia stared at her mother, as if she were beginning to learn that adults didn’t always tell the truth. But she was still young enough to believe almost everything her parents said. ‘Okay,’ she said with the enthusiasm of a hungover man agreeing to take his kids to the park. ‘But can we do it tonight? He prefers the dark.’

Were rats nocturnal? It sounded about right. Or was Amelia hoping that under cover of darkness her mother wouldn’t recognise the beast was dead? Well, whatever. She only wanted the thing out of her house. ‘That sounds like a fine plan. We’ll do that then. Tonight.’

Amelia scrambled to her feet and waved to the wrapped cage. ‘Buh-bye, Albrecht, see you tonight.’

Charlotte eyed the cage. She ought to check if there was a rat corpse in Amelia’s bedroom. But she’d had her nails done on the weekend, and all that scrubbing her hands clean would remove the varnish. And Mike wouldn’t be back until later. She shoved the thought far back into the rear of her mind. In the trash or in an alley, the rat would be gone tonight.

At the dinner table that evening, Amelia kept eyeing the clock. The hands had moved to half six, and Amelia’s bedtime was eight o'clock. She’d finished her meal without complaint. Amelia had even eaten the vegetables that’d keep her clear-skinned and slim.

Charlotte smiled as she did the dishes. Amelia got her brains from one side of the family, and it wasn’t the Evanses’. She almost felt bad doing this. She made eye contact with her daughter, who sat like an angel, not watching the cartoons. ‘Honey, why don’t you go say goodbye to Albert while I finish the dishes? I’ll be up in ten.’

Her eyes widened. Amelia whined deep in her throat. ‘But—’

‘No buts! A good girl never says “but”. Go and spend some time with him before we release him. I’ll let you pick where. But not in the garden!’

Head bowed, Amelia got up and shuffled away, like a doomed man approaching the electric chair. Her steps on the stairs thudded like coffin lids.

When Charlotte crept up to Amelia’s room, she overheard her whispering to Albert again.

‘I’m gonna miss you, Albrecht. Please come visit again.’

Oh dear god, please don’t. She knocked and entered. ‘Okay, sweetie, are you ready to say bye to your little buddy?’

Both girl and rat turned to face her. A cool chill seeped in from the open window, billowing the curtains against the night.

Huh, not dead at all, it seemed. A normal, healthy, creepy rat. Staring at her with oddly intelligent eyes. Time to get rid of it.

Amelia sighed. She picked up the cage, a fresh bite trickling blood. ‘Yep. C’mon, Albrecht. You’ll be okay. I promise,’ she said, eyeing her mother as if to say, ‘If it’s not fine, you’re to blame.’

Charlotte put her arm around her shoulders, guiding her away. ‘It’s the right thing to do, honey, he—’

Amelia stopped at the window.

Charlotte’s right eye twitched. So close, so close. Get rat and daughter out of the house; return with daughter. ‘Come on, Amelia, you agreed to say goodbye to Albert.’

‘Albrecht. And I have.’

Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘So, let’s—’

Without warning, Amelia opened the cage. She reached in and grabbed the rat. And launched the bugger out the window.

Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, Jesus!’

‘Buh-bye, Albrecht!’ cried Amelia.

‘You—’

Albert tumbled through the air like a circus performer doing high-rope acrobatics.

Charlotte gasped. ‘Amelia!’

Albert flapped his wings and stopped his mid-air spin.

‘What on earth?’ Charlotte whispered as Amelia continued to wave.

The rat had sprouted leathery appendages. And had taken on a decidedly bat-like appearance.

‘Wha—?’

But they weren’t the only people watching this transformation. Mildred from next door stood on the pavement, mid-sticking a note atop someone’s bin that they’d left out before nine o'clock. Sellotape in hand, Mildred’s jaw dropped open, and a high-pitched wail escaped.

Oh god. Oh gosh. What would people think when they learnt Amelia had thrown a rat from a second-story window? She’d never receive another birthday party invite to any of th—

The bat spotted Mildred and swooped down, shrieking. Mildred dropped the tape roll and tried to run, tripping over the curb.

Oh, this would be bad.

Albert pinned her to the ground, now sprouting arms, legs, a head, a cape, and teeth. And then he—

Charlotte hissed. This type of thing drove down house prices.

The man buried his head into Mildred’s wrinkled neck and tore it open like a ketchup sachet. He fed, while Mildred’s legs spasmed like a starlet tap-dancing to complex jazz. ‘Bon appétit!’ shouted Amelia.

That blood would stain the pavement for sure. And reports of a killer on the loose would ruin the prestige of the neighbourhood. ‘Amelia,’ whispered Charlotte. ‘What on earth is he?’

‘Albrecht,’ she said primly.

The bites. The pillowcase. ‘Good lord.’

Once satiated, the vampire stood up and looked to Amelia’s bedroom window. He smiled, waved, and made a heart gesture with his hands, which Amelia giggled at. And then he flew away, once more a bat.

With an arm around Amelia’s shoulders, Charlotte stared at the corpse of her neighbour. ‘Well, that was… unfortunate.’

Amelia shrugged. ‘A boy’s gotta eat.’

She supposed that when you taught your child empathy, it was inevitable that a vampire would eat your neighbour. And Mildred wouldn’t be much of a loss to the community. In fact, it’d be nice not to have that old Shih Tzu’s face peering over her fence, complaining about her wearing a bikini. But what would people say?

She patted her daughter’s head.

‘We’ll, ah, keep this to ourselves, okay, dear?’