Vile Visitors by Diana Wynne Jones Read Free Book Online

white frost on the inside of the bedroom window. They stared at it, with their teeth chattering.

    â€œI’ve never seen that before,” said Simon.
    â€œIt’s all feathery. It would be pretty if it wasn’t so cold,” said Marcia.
    As she said it, they heard Dad shouting from the bathroom. “What the devil has happened to the heating boiler? It’s gone out !”
    Chair Person’s feet blundered in the passage. “Er, hn hm, I appeared to get very cold in the night,” his voice brayed. “But I happen to know a lot about snuffle technology. I adjusted the boiler. High speed gas for warmth and snuffle efficiency.”
    â€œIt’s not gas, it’s oil !” Dad roared. “You turned the whole system off, you fool!”
    â€œOil?” said Chair Person, not in the least worried. “Liquid engineering. I happen to know – hn hm – that both oil and gas come from the North Sea, where giant oil rigs —”
    Dad made a sort of gargling noise. His feet hammered away downstairs. There were a few clangs and a clank and the sound of Dad swearing. After a while the house started to get warm again. The frost on the window slid away to the corners and turned to water.
    Marcia looked at Simon. She wanted to say that Simon was the one who had said Chair Person would be better today. But she could see Simon knew he was just the same. “Do you still think he’ll learn?” she said.
    â€œI think so,” said Simon, though he knew he was going to have to work quite hard to go on feeling sorry for Chair Person at this rate.

hair Person ate four boiled eggs and half a packet of shredded wheat for breakfast. He drank what was left of the milk with loud slurping sounds while he told them about oil rigs and then about ship-building. “Er, hn hm,” he said. “Studies at the dockyards reveal that less than ten snuffle slurp per cent of ships now being built are named after the Queen. Oh dear, I appear to have drunk all your – hn hm – milk.”
    Dad jumped up. “I’ll buy more milk,” he said. “Give me a list of all the other things you want for the coffee morning and I’ll buy them too.”
    â€œCoward!” Mum said bitterly when Dad had gone off with orders to buy ten cake-mixes, milk and biscuits. She was in a great fuss. She told Chair Person to go upstairs and watch television. Chair Person went crawlingly humble and went away saying he knew he was – hn hm – being a lot of trouble. “And I hope he stays there!” said Mum. She made Simon help in the kitchen and told Marcia to find twenty chairs – which were all the chairs in the house – and put them in a circle in the living room. “And then I suppose it’s too much to hope that Auntie Christa will come in and help!” Mum added.
    It was too much to hope. Auntie Christa did turn up. She put her head round the back door as Simon was fetching the sixth tray of cakes out of the oven. “I won’t interrupt,” she said merrily. “I have to dash down to the Community Hall. Don’t forget you’re all helping with the party this evening.” And away she went and did not come back until Mum and Simon had heaped cakes on ten plates and Dad and Marcia were counting coffee cups. “You have done well!” Auntie Christa said. “We must have Africa Aid here every week.”
    Dad started to groan, and then stopped, with a thoughtful look on his face.
    The doorbell began ringing. A lot of respectable elderly ladies arrived, and one or two respectable elderly men, and then the Vicar. They each took one of the twenty seats and chatted politely while Simon and Marcia went round with cakes and biscuits and Mum handed out coffee. When everyone had a cup and a plate of something, the Vicar cleared his throat – a bit like Chair Person but nothing like so loudly.
    â€œEr, hm,” he said. “I