Horror Holiday by A. B. Saddlewick

B ump! The car bounced and clanked along. “Ow! Slow down, Daddy!” grumbled Milly Montague. “That’s the third time I’ve
banged my head!”
    Maud wished her sister would stop making a fuss. She travelled down this road in the school bus almost every day, and that was a hundred times bumpier.
    “Sorry,” said Mr Montague. “I thought the suspension could handle it, but this road isn’t up to much. Look at the size of those potholes! The council should do something
about it.”
    Maud smiled as she remembered the day a group of workers had been sent to fix the road. They’d hardly got their tools out before Mr Quasimodo, the school caretaker, tried to offer them a
cup of tea. They’d run away screaming.
    Maud looked down at her blazer pocket, where her pet rat Quentin was bobbing up and down like a baby kangaroo. He peered up at her and squeaked with fear.
    “Don’t worry, Quent,” she said. “It’ll be over soon.”
    Not soon enough, though. Maud had been dreading tonight for weeks. She’d tried to stop her mum and dad from coming to parents’ evening, but they’d insisted. They were bound to
find out that Rotwood was a monster school! And if they did, they’d forbid her from ever going back.
    The aroma of rotting leaves and stagnant puddles drifted into the car.
    “Put the windows up!” shouted Milly, lifting her pink blouse up over her nose. “Maud’s school is already making me sick. I don’t know why you had to bring
me.”
    “Sorry, petal,” said Mrs Montague, “but we’ve found it very difficult to get babysitters since the incident with Tracy.”
    “The poor girl is still convinced she was attacked by a flying hamster with fangs,” said Mr Montague. “All her friends think our house is haunted now. Won’t even come for
double pay!”
    Maud felt a little guilty that Tracy had been so scared of the vampire hamster she’d been looking after. But she couldn’t tell her parents what had really happened that evening. Not
without revealing the truth about Rotwood.
    “I just don’t understand why I’m being punished,” said Milly. “Shouldn’t I be rewarded for getting straight As in my report?”
    “This isn’t a punishment, dear. What about our holiday?” asked Mrs Montague. “Doesn’t that count as a reward?”
    “I suppose so,” said Milly. “Though it will have to be pretty flipping amazing to make up for this pong.”
    “Watch your language, young lady,” said Mr Montague. “We don’t use words like ‘flipping’ in this family.”
    “Very flipping sorry,” muttered Milly under her breath.
    “And it just so happens that I have some good news on the holiday front,” Mr Montague went on. “You know how I said we might be going to Corfu?”
    Maud pricked up her ears.
    “Yes?” asked Milly, leaning forward.
    “Well, all the flights were fully booked,” said Mr Montague. “So we’re going to the Classic Car Show instead. Isn’t that fantastic?”
    Maud’s heart sank, and for once, her sister was speechless.
    “No need to thank me,” said Mr Montague. “It’ll be fun for everyone! After all, who’d want to lounge around on a beach when they could be learning about the history
of motoring? And it was cheaper, too, if you can believe it.”
    Milly rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat.
    The car’s headlights picked out a sign ahead:

    “Some practical joker has added an ‘s’ in front of ‘care’,” said Mr Montague, chuckling to himself.
    “Er … yes,” said Maud. “Great joke, isn’t it?”
    The thick trees on either side fell away and the bumpy road turned to gravel.
    Rotwood loomed ahead of them. The sky was growing dark, and Maud thought the building’s spiky stone towers and arched windows looked more bleak and forbidding than ever.
    “What a disgusting dump,” said Milly. “It’s even more rubbish than I was expecting.”
    “Well, I think it looks very cosy,” said Mrs Montague cheerfully. “Though a few lights wouldn’t