Alfie the Werewolf 1: Birthday Surprise Read online

  www.hodderchildrens.co.uk

  Copyright © 1996 Paul van Loon

  Illustrations copyright © 1996 Hugo van Look

  English language translation © 2010 David Colmer

  First published in The Netherlands under the title Dolfje Weerwolfje

  by Uitgeverij Leopold in 1996

  Published by arrangement with Rights People, London

  First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Hodder Children’s Books

  This ebook edition published in 2011

  The right of Paul van Loon and Hugo van Look to be identified as the Author and Illustrator of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  The publishers are grateful for the support of the Foundation for the Production and Translation of Dutch Literature.

  All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 44490 501 4

  Typeset in Weiss by Avon DataSet Ltd,

  Bidford on Avon, Warwickshire

  Hodder Children’s Books

  a division of Hachette Children’s Books

  338 Euston Road, London NW1 3BH

  An Hachette UK Company

  www.hachette.co.uk

  For Hadjidja and Manisha

  1

  Seven

  It was the middle of the night and Alfie shot up in bed. For a second he didn’t know what had woken him. Something important was happening, he could feel it. Something about him had changed, but what?

  Suddenly a moonbeam shone through an opening in the curtains, right on Alfie’s face. A silver line ran down his forehead, nose and chin. Then Alfie remembered: it was his birthday. Maybe this was a sign that he was turning seven at exactly this moment.

  Seven years old. At last! Now he was almost as old as Tim, who was already eight.

  If I keep this up, thought Alfie, I’ll catch up with him. Yesterday Tim was two years older than me. Now he’s only one year older.

  He was so excited he had to get up. He took his glasses from the bedside cabinet, put them on, threw off the duvet and jumped out of bed.

  Tingling with a new feeling, Alfie walked through the room. Behind the curtain, the window was partly open and the noises of the night drifted into Alfie’s room – chirping crickets, croaking frogs, little animals rustling over the grass and under the bushes – noises he had never heard so clearly and distinctly before. They sounded like they were being amplified over a speaker. He smelt the grass and the bushes.

  For a moment he thought of his parents. He always thought of them on his birthday. He wondered where they were now. Did they know he had already turned seven?

  His parents were mysterious strangers that he no longer remembered. He didn’t know why he always thought of them on his birthday.

  Suddenly Alfie felt itchy. Terribly itchy all over his body. Scratching didn’t make any difference. Maybe some fresh air would help?

  He slid open the curtain.

  There was someone on the other side of the window. A figure was standing there.

  Alfie screamed and jumped back.

  2

  Howl

  The figure jumped back too at exactly the same time.

  For a second Alfie just stood there without moving. Then he worked it out.

  How stupid! What an idiot. Scared of his own reflection in the window. He had acted like a six-year-old, not like someone who was already seven. He hadn’t recognized himself in the dark glass. No wonder he’d given himself a fright.

  Alfie sniggered. He was glad nobody else had seen him.

  He opened the window wide and breathed in the night air. The moon cast a magical glow over the garden.

  Alfie looked up. It was the most beautiful night he’d ever seen. There were millions of stars in the sky, all twinkling and sparkling like decorations hung up for his seventh birthday.

  The moon was full and shining brightly. Alfie couldn’t keep his eyes off it. The moonlight shone on his face and gleamed on the lenses of his glasses.

  Alfie had never known that you could feel moonlight, but he felt it now. It was cool, but it made his skin glow at the same time. The light scampered over his nose and lips like a mouse’s feet, then slid down his neck and into his pyjamas. It was as if the light had crept into his skin and was flowing right through him like a shower of moonbeams. It felt good and Alfie felt happy, even though he was still itchy all over.

  He leant on the window ledge with both hands and opened his mouth wide, as if to drink the moonlight. He felt a terrible urge to shout out something to the moon. Something like, ‘Hello, moon, I turned seven tonight. And that is so itchy!’

  Then a sound he had never made before came up out of his throat. A loud, scary howl like a noise an animal would make.

  Alfie clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. Had that sound really come out of his mouth? He couldn’t believe it.

  Confused, he looked up at the moon and couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth. Once again, Alfie howled at the moon. It was a sad sounding cry. ‘Oww-owwwww!’

  With great difficulty he clamped his jaws shut. He couldn’t work it out. What was happening? Was this normal? Did your voice change the moment you turned seven? Was it breaking already? Tim hadn’t warned him about this.

  Alfie looked down at the window ledge where his two hands were resting. He almost screamed, but just managed to cover his mouth with his hands.

  Something terrible had happened.

  He no longer recognized his own hands.

  3

  No!

  Alfie’s hands were suddenly covered with white hair and he had grown long, sharp nails.

  No matter how much Alfie stared at them, the hair and nails didn’t disappear. His feet were the same: white and hairy with sharp nails.

  My hands have turned into paws! I’ve grown claws!

  Alfie started to panic.

  He turned back to the open window and saw that his reflection in the glass was very dark. He looked strange and deformed. His hair was wild and his ears stuck up on the sides of his head like pointy tufts. Thick hair bulged up out of his sleeves and the collar of his pyjama top, as if he was wearing a thick fur coat.

  This is terrible, thought Alfie. Is that me, with all that hair? He looked around desperately, not knowing what to do.

  Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. What if someone saw him like this? The thought made him feel trapped.

  Suddenly his pyjamas were much too tight. He tugged at the top, sending the buttons flying. Rip, tear - he kicked and tore the pyjama bottoms off his legs. Free at last.

  Alfie growled softly. He still felt trapped in the room. The four walls suddenly felt like a prison.

  The moon smiled at him through the window as if to say, ‘Come on out, Alfie. Taste freedom.’

  Alfie leant on the window ledge again with his front paws. His tail wagged back and forth longingly. Tail?

  Alfie looked back over his shoulder. He hadn’t imagined it.

  A fl
uffy white tail was attached to his bottom.

  Suddenly there was a quiet knock on the door.

  4

  A Blur

  The strange noises coming from Alfie’s room had woken up Tim, whose bedroom was next to Alfie’s. For a while now he had been lying in bed, listening.

  Maybe they’re only dream noises, he thought.

  But then he heard it again: a strange howl.

  Alfie Span was Tim’s best friend and Tim loved him like a brother. Four years ago, Alfie’s parents had disappeared. They had left suddenly one night, without any warning or note. No one knew where Mr and Mrs Span had gone. It was a big mystery. Since then, Alfie had lived with Tim and his parents.

  Tim climbed out of bed, tiptoed over the landing and stopped outside Alfie’s room. Carefully, he pressed his ear against the door and heard rustling and shuffling noises. He knocked on the door quietly.

  No answer.

  Tim knocked again.

  ‘Pssst, Alfie, what are you doing?’

  All at once it went dead quiet behind the door.

  That’s strange, thought Tim. Was something the matter with Alfie?

  Suddenly he felt scared and worried.

  He turned the door handle and pushed open the door.

  A gust of wind blew in his face. The window was wide open and the room was lit up with bright moonlight.

  Tim grew even more scared.

  Something was wrong.

  Tim looked around the room. Alfie’s bed was empty. Where was Alfie? His pyjamas were lying on the floor.

  Tim picked them up. What were they doing on the floor? And why were they torn?

  Nothing made sense.

  Tim leant out of the window and looked into the garden. The trees and garden furniture cast black shadows in the silver moonlight. But the garden was dead quiet too.

  Suddenly Tim heard a sound and spun around.

  Something was moving in a dark corner of the room.

  ‘Alfie?’

  No answer, just a soft growl.

  ‘Alfie?’

  Tim shuffled towards the door.

  I’d better wake up Mum and Dad, he thought.

  He reached for the door handle, but was too slow. It was as if the shadows exploded.

  In a flash, Tim saw a white blur moving towards him.

  ‘Wrow!’

  He fell over backwards and felt warm breath on his face.

  5

  A White Wolf

  Tim’s eyes were wide open but his brain couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was something very hairy on top of him.

  It looked like a wolf. A white wolf. Not a great big one, but a fairly small one, with big, round, gleaming eyes.

  Tim screwed up his own eyes, too scared to look.

  Paws pressed down on his shoulder as the wolf panted in his face.

  A terrible thought came to him. Alfie had disappeared. Only his pyjamas were left in the room. That could mean only one thing: this strange wolf had eaten Alfie. It had swallowed him whole. And now it’s my turn, thought Tim.

  The wolf sniffed at his face. Tim wanted to yell for help, but was too terrified to move. No noise came out of his throat.

  Then something very strange happened. Carefully, the wolf pressed its nose against Tim’s throat and licked him very gently on the cheek with its rough tongue.

  ‘Tim,’ the wolf whispered. ‘Don’t be scared, it’s me.’

  Cautiously, Tim opened his eyes. He was too astonished to speak. What was happening here was impossible. A talking wolf was sitting on his chest. A wolf that sounded like Alfie with a growling voice.

  Wolves can’t talk, thought Tim. And they definitely can’t talk with Alfie’s voice. So this can’t possibly be real.

  The wolf nuzzled Tim’s ear.

  ‘Tim, it’s me, honest,’ it said.

  It turned its head so that the moon shone straight on its face.

  Only now did Tim see that the big shiny eyes were just Alfie’s glasses.

  ‘Alfie? Is that you? It can’t be. What’s happened to you? You’re so … hairy! Your mouth is enormous and your ears are huge!’

  The wolf whimpered softly. ‘I don’t know. I changed.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Tim said.

  ‘What do I do now?’ Alfie asked. His voice sounded miserable.

  ‘Get off me to start with,’ Tim said. ‘It’s hard to think with a wolf on top of you.’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Alfie said as he got off Tim’s chest.

  ‘That’s better.’ Tim sat on the floor next to Alfie. ‘Now tell me what happened.’

  Alfie hung his head.

  ‘I woke up and the moon was shining in my face. Then I thought, Yippee, I’m seven.’ He whimpered softly. ‘The next thing I knew, I had paws and a tail.’

  Tim picked his nose thoughtfully, then flicked the bogey out of the window.

  Outside, the moon was now clearly visible.

  Suddenly Tim clapped his hands together. ‘Hey, I get it. You’re a werewolf. Cool!’

  Alfie lifted his head and gave Tim a questioning look. ‘I’m a what?’

  ‘A werewolf. That’s a person who changes into a wolf when there’s a full moon.’ Tim jumped up. ‘This is so cool! I bet I’m the only kid around who has a real werewolf. That’s heaps better than an ordinary pet.’

  Alfie whimpered louder. ‘A pet? I’m not a pet. I don’t want to be a pet! And I don’t want to be a werewolf either.’

  Alfie looked so miserable that Tim wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Of course Alfie wasn’t a pet - what a stupid thing for him to say.

  ‘Maybe it will get better by itself,’ Tim said. ‘Like chickenpox or measles.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  ‘Then … then I’ll help you. I’ll …’

  Tim stopped talking and stared at Alfie.

  Alfie crouched down and bunched up his shoulders.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ Tim asked.

  ‘I … I can’t help it. I can’t breathe in here. I have to go outside.’ Alfie sprang through the air. He just took off and flew over Tim and out through the open window, all the way down from the first floor in one leap.

  Tim rushed to the window.

  ‘Alfie, don’t go!’ he shouted.

  6

  Free as a Bird

  Alfie ran through the shadowy streets, past the dark houses. The wind ruffled his coat. High above were the moon and the stars. And all was dead quiet.

  Alfie felt amazing! It was brilliant running as free as a bird … as free as a wolf, while everyone was asleep. No one knew that a white werewolf was running down the street.

  There was a black cat sitting on a wall, its green eyes glittered like emeralds. Alfie slowed down and stood up straight.

  ‘Wrow, cat. You out late too?’

  The cat started to spit. It arched its back and bristled its tail. It shot off the wall and disappeared into the garden on the other side.

  Great, thought Alfie, it wants to play. I’ll join in.

  With a big jump he flew over the wall.

  Whoops! He had landed in bushes and thistles. No cats in sight. The branches got caught in Alfie’s coat and thorns jabbed his paws.

  ‘Ow, ooh, ah!’ Alfie hopped up and down on his hind legs, whimpering from the pain.

  Behind a window, a light flashed on.

  Alfie wrenched his tail loose from a tangle of troublesome thistles. He bashed aside branches with his forepaws.

  A loud cackling suddenly erupted.

  Chickens.

  Alfie turned his head towards the noise.

  There was a tumbledown chicken coop in the garden. The chickens cackled like mad things.

  Alfie leered at the chickens and licked his lips. Then he leapt over to the chicken coop and tore open the door. The cackling grew even louder.

  Suddenly the front door of the house opened.

  Yellow light from the hall shone into the garden, right on the chicken coop. A woman was stan
ding in the doorway in a nightie. She was wearing a silly-looking hat with feathers sticking out.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  Then her mouth fell open.

  There, at her chicken coop, was a wolf.

  A little white one with glasses on its snout.

  The woman started screeching.

  7

  Blood

  A thud made Tim wake up with a start.

  He sat up and peered around. Where was he?

  Oh yeah, in Alfie’s room, Tim suddenly remembered. He had been sitting here waiting for Alfie to come back, then fallen asleep for a moment.

  A moment?

  He looked at the light creeping into the room over the windowsill. It wasn’t moonlight any more. It was the pale light of early morning, which meant the night was almost over. He must have been asleep for hours.

  Alfie! he thought suddenly.

  It was already morning and Alfie wasn’t back yet. Maybe something terrible had happened. He was just starting to panic when he heard another thud. Then a blur appeared in front of the window, momentarily blocking the light. In the next instant Alfie shot in through the open window and landed flat on his stomach, his four legs outstretched. He lay on the floor, panting, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his glasses crooked on his head.

  ‘Phew,’ he gasped. ‘Jumping down is a lot easier than jumping up. I smashed into the wall twice.’

  Tim looked at Alfie and swallowed. He still wasn’t used to the idea of Alfie being a werewolf. But it was the other things Tim saw that sent a shiver down his spine. There were clods of mud, twigs and feathers stuck to Alfie’s fur. White feathers and black feathers. But worst of all was the blood. Blood stuck to the corners of his mouth and smeared red all over his white muzzle.