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Mr Cushing had opened all the doors on the limo, as everyone piled in the seats, he looked up along the road to see some awkward customers who were coming very much nearer; it was time to close the doors and go – ‘I will drive like the wind now,’ he said.

The two gargoyles were slightly inept as they climbed into the back, although granted they were careful not to damage the upholstery, but they were a little woozy, since they had drunk rather a lot of the special cocktail made by Mr Cushing.

Scatty lay down, staring up to the panoramic roof, where the huge moon and all the lovely stars stared back; while Joan and Francis were having a little smooch.

Meanwhile, Mr Cushing had been driving the limo, as it glided around the outskirts of Paris, it was almost midnight; ‘where should I drop you?’ he asked, ‘we are near Montmartre.’

Everyone suddenly sat up – ‘that’s handy… and of course, haunting time too,’ said one of them – as they all grinned, apart from the red-head woman, ‘I am happy to hop out, just here,’ as she took her big bag and her suitcase, ‘do you want to come too?’ – as the two gargoyles nodded their heads.

Back to the cemetery for us, as their little teeth became more noticeable; but then The Old One said: ‘Mr Cushing, shall we go up together with your limo, we will look down over the city while we turn up the volume.’ 

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The red-head woman was elated as she slammed her cue down and laughed saying, ‘I’m the victor,’ as she turned around, but then she slipped and fell down, fortunately Francis was at hand, and he helped her up, ‘enough, let’s go.’

Joan and Scatty had already left, as they wanted to have a little swim in the clear river, they would take all their clothes off, skinny dipping was hardly a vice, but still they made sure there was no one around; they both jumped in, swimming and giggling, then they tread it water as they looked up to see the huge moon.

By now Francis and the red-head woman had been walking next to the river, they could hear the splashing from Joan and Scatty – ‘don’t worry about us,’ as the two of them waved back.

Said Francis, ‘let’s continue to walk, I feel I could speak a verse or two,’ as he started to utter eloquently: ‘by the way it’s from Shakespeare… of course.’

But the red-head woman had no truck in that kind of thing, as she hurried up to where The Old One and Mr Cushing were standing near the limo: ‘oh, that looks divine,’ as she licked her lips.

Mr Cushing had been busy mixing and blending a large pick-me-up, it was a special concoction, excellent for all of them (even the two gargoyles who had been bickering for almost an hour), ‘come everyone, enjoy, and maybe a bit of tripping too,’ as he winked.

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Everyone now knows that Peter Cushing was a great chauffeur: the Old One was sitting next to him grinning happily, while the two gargoyles were sitting backwards, being very careful not to scratch the upholstery, while looking around with their eyes peeled.

They had been in the lovely limo for several hours watching the many villages and little towns, since they were so much nicer than motorways, but now they were coming to a forest and it seemed right to stop.

‘So what’s here then,’ asked the red-head woman, as the two gargoyles proceeded to answer, while everyone else opened their doors and climbed out.

Scatty and Joan made a beeline to walk down to the river where it was clear and refreshing as both of them took a little sip, and a little more, where Joan explained that here in the cities, the water was often cloudy and opaque.

Meanwhile, Mr Cushing had been busy removing several deck chairs, a couple of small tables, and other useful things from the undercarriage of the limo; and soon Francis was happy reading another tome, while the Old One and Mr Cushing began to reminisce again.

Rather later, most of them went into the hamlet together, where they found a bar; but already here was the red-head woman who was in her element, she had been playing pool for more than an hour, winning everyone in sight, the next one, she said: ‘So pal, what do you think – double or quits, eh?

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They all piled into the limo; the two gargoyles bagged the back, Francis was happy to lounge on the third row, and Joan and Scatty sat in the middle; the red head woman was clutching her big bag, and The Old One sat almost at the front: now they were ready to go.

‘How long will this take?’ asked Scatty, ‘will we need a hotel, perhaps?’– ‘honestly, don’t be silly,’ said the nearer gargoyle, ‘I estimate it’ll take six hours,’ while looking around at the chauffeur.

But before the chauffeur could speak, The Old One said: ‘I know who you are,’ as everyone turned to look at him; meanwhile the other gargoyle said: ‘well, we thought he was an actor, right from the start.’

The chauffeur glided to a stop, then turned around taking his shades off; ‘I have been an actor for many years, and yes, I’m not able to do it anymore, I’m not dead, nor a vampire, no, I’m an immortal, but never mind that.’

The Old One almost shouted: ‘you’ve been in many, many Dracula films haven’t you – and rather raunchy back in the day, but my favourite film (two actually) was the Doctor – you were Doctor Who.’

‘Oh yes,’ as he smiled back, ‘I remember that machine… the TARDIS, great wasn’t it,’ then The Old One added, ‘I had a bit part, I was an extra in that, I was a Dalek, no speaking part but I was very hostile and menacing… oh, happy days!’

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