“Naturally.” Miss Archer clasped her hands and tapped the tips of her thumbs together. “I can only presume that since the tunneling incident happened overseas, you didn’t consider it worth noting either when we discussed the boys’ home life.”
“Correct,” I acknowledged. “Besides, you didn’t ask us about our summer vacation.”
“Rest assured, I shall do so from now on.” Miss Archer cleared her throat and turned a page in the file folder. “And the story about the mountain exploding in the dead of night? Is it true as well?”
“It is,” I assured her. “There are court records to prove it, though you’d have to go to Colorado to fi nd them.”
“My word,” Miss Archer said. “What colorful lives you lead.” She looked from me to Bill, then said, almost pleadingly, “But the story about the vampire can’t possibly be true.” She hesitated. “Can it?”
“V-vampire?” I stammered, brought up short. “The boys told a story about a vampire? How could they? We’ve never met one.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it,” said Miss Archer, raising a limp hand to her brow. “Most experts agree that vampires are imaginary creatures, but with your . . . er, dramatic history, it seemed almost possible . . .” Her words trailed off into silence.
I stared in puzzlement at a point just above Miss Archer’s left shoulder until a sudden flash of insight told me who must have put the idea of vampires into the twins’ heads. I shot an accusatory glance in Bill’s direction—only to find him glaring accusingly at me.
It was transparently clear that he suspected me of telling the boys about bloodsucking headmistresses, just as I suspected him of practicing his Count Bill routine in front of them. He raised an eyebrow to signal that we’d discuss our mutual suspicions later, then turned a look of innocent perplexity on Miss Archer.
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
17
“I’m afraid we’re unfamiliar with the vampire tale,” he said.
“What have our sons been saying?”
“They claim to have seen one,” Miss Archer replied.
“Where?” I asked. “When?”
Miss Archer glanced down at her notes. “They explained to Miss Brightman that a vampire appeared to them while they were riding their ponies at the Anscombe Riding Center. They didn’t mention a specific time or date.” She flipped a page over, then looked at us. “According to Mrs. Lawrence, however, Matilda suffered her first vampire nightmare on Monday night, so I assume that the story is a relatively new one.”
“We’ll look into it,” Bill told Miss Archer. “As for the other stories—”
“We won’t ask the boys to lie,” I declared adamantly. “Our sons can’t help it if they’ve faced more scary situations than the average child. Believe me, we wish they hadn’t.”
“Surely it’s good for them to talk about it,” Bill chimed in.
To my surprise, Miss Archer nodded.
“I concur,” she said. “Will and Rob must be allowed to process their traumatic experiences in whatever way suits them best.”
“Would you like us to keep them home from school this afternoon?” Bill inquired.
“Not at all,” said Miss Archer. “I don’t wish to upset their routine. I will, however, ensure that Miss Brightman curtails any storytelling in which they might engage today.” She removed her glasses and gazed thoughtfully into the middle distance. “It would be helpful if you would discuss the true stories—that is, the stories that do not involve vampires—with Miss Brightman at some point in the near future. She would then be able to discuss them with the class as a whole, in a way that might alleviate the other children’s fears.” She bent her head toward Bill. “May Miss Brightman contact you?”
18 Nancy Atherton
“I look forward to her call,” said Bill. “In the meantime please extend our sincere apologies to Mrs. Lawrence. Tell her that our sons never meant to give Matilda or any other child nightmares.”
“I will,” said Miss Archer. “Once I’ve described your sons’ . . .
er, unusual experiences to her, I’m sure she’ll understand. I hope that you, in turn, will accept my apology for making assumptions I had no right to make. In light of what you’ve told me today, your sons are astonishingly well adjusted.”
“They’re good boys,” I agreed.
“We’ll have a serious talk with them tonight,” Bill promised.
“And we’ll keep you and Miss Brightman informed on the vampire situation.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Archer.
She pressed a buzzer on her desk, and Mrs. Findle entered the office, carrying our raincoats. We took them from her, said goodbye to Miss Archer, and headed for the door, but before we reached it, the headmistress spoke again.
“As a matter of curiosity,” she said, “what do your sons want to be when they grow up?”
I grinned. “At the moment, they want to be horses.”
“Oh, no.” Miss Archer shook her head. “With so much good material to choose from, they’re bound to be bestselling novelists.”
A glimmer of amusement lit Miss Archer’s creepy eyes as she closed the fi le folder. I shuddered and escaped into the corridor.