Read Online Christmas Tales of Terror by Chris Priestley - Free Book Online Page A

much grander than Elizabeth’s own – but although the structural work was complete, not all the rooms had been made entirely habitable, and this meant that she was having to share a bedroom with her cousin.
    Theresa was not so bad as cousins went, but she was four years younger than Elizabeth. It was monstrous that she should be forced to share a room with someone so young. Even so, complain as she might, she was told in no uncertain terms that there was no choice in the matter.
    So it was that Elizabeth Farmer awoke on Christmas Eve to find her Cousin Theresa standing at the fireplace in their bedroom.
    ‘Look at the mess that Father Christmas has made,’ said Theresa as Elizabeth climbed out of bed and went to stand beside her.
    There certainly was a lot of soot and pieces of what Elizabeth thought must be mortar lying on the hearth and the rug. She vaguely remembered hearing strange noises in the chimney during the night.
    ‘Father Christmas doesn’t come until tonight, silly,’ said Elizabeth.
    ‘That’s what I thought. But there you are.’
    ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
    ‘He’s been before,’ whispered Theresa.
    ‘Before?’
    ‘Shhh!’ said Theresa. ‘It’s a secret.’
    Elizabeth shook her head.
    ‘I wonder how Father Christmas could fit down the chimney,’ said Theresa, kneeling down and peering inside. ‘It’s awfully small.’
    ‘I expect he wears a corset,’ said Elizabeth, stifling a yawn, ‘for smaller chimneys.’
    Theresa giggled at the word ‘corset’ and stood up, smiling brightly. At the sound of voices, Elizabeth announced that it was time to go downstairs for breakfast.
    ‘Good morning, girls,’ said her Aunt Judith, as they walked into the dining room. ‘Merry Christmas!’
    ‘Merry Christmas, Aunt Judith,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Merry Christmas, Mama.’
    Elizabeth went across to her mother and kissed her. Theresa went and did the same to her mother.
    ‘Theresa, really!’ said Aunt Judith with a chuckle. ‘Have you washed this morning?’
    ‘Yes, Mama,’ she said.
    ‘Lying is a sin, Theresa,’ chided her mother. ‘You have a great sooty mark on your face. It astonishes me how a young lady can get quite so grubby, so quickly, Theresa. Look at your cousin there – spotless as always.’
    Elizabeth smiled, although Aunt Judith had a way of making all her compliments sound as though there was a hint of criticism behind them. She had noticed the soot mark on her cousin’s cheek but had not felt the need to point it out. Well, if the silly girl would go looking up chimneys.
    ‘I think it must have been Father Christmas,’ said Theresa. ‘When he kissed me.’
    Aunt Judith and Elizabeth’s mother both laughed their Isn’t-she-adorable? laugh and Elizabeth sighed.
    ‘Off you trot, young lady,’ said Aunt Judith. ‘No breakfast until that face is clean.’
    Theresa scowled and flounced out of the room with her nose in the air. Aunt Judith looked at Elizabeth and shook her head. They both laughed again.
    ‘How did you sleep, my dear?’ asked Aunt Judith.
    ‘Not very well, Aunt, I’m afraid,’ said Elizabeth, stifling another yawn. ‘I think there are birds nesting in your chimney.’
    Elizabeth’s uncle walked in with her father.
    ‘What’s that? Birds nesting?’ Uncle Gregory said with a smile, patting her on the head. ‘Not this time of year, sweet pea. Squirrels, maybe?’
    Elizabeth flicked her hair back into place.
    ‘Oh, it’s not rats, I hope,’ Aunt Judith sighed.
    ‘It’s not rats, my dear,’ said her husband. ‘You’re always talking about rats. Stop worrying.’
    ‘We had terrible trouble with rats when we first moved in,’ explained Aunt Judith.
    Rats! Elizabeth shuddered. The very idea! How she wanted to go home. She hated rats.
    ‘Probably just the wind, Lizzie,’ said her father, seeing his daughter’s worried face.
    She clamped her lips together and flared her nostrils. How she hated to be called Lizzie. Her father