I woke up this morning with the cries of my eleven year old daughter. She has been struggling with asthma all her short life. It was a trait that ran in her mother’s family. It seemed to grow worse ever since Paula died. For the past year I've found myself in the iron grip of a one parent family.

The welfare state have no time for me. Of course, they hear me with sympathetic ears; but they just won’t do anything about it. It’s getting desperate. I can only work part time and the pay isn't all that. My few friends offer their help, but how can I take their charity?

Vanessa needs someone who can look after her. Full time.

SUNDAY 21 DECEMBER.

I didn't sleep last night. Vanessa had an awful attack and wouldn't sleep; couldn't sleep. Oh, God! Why?

I went to the park. Patricia, my neighbour, volunteered to look after Vanessa so I could go and do some shopping. As I sat on the bench, I could see the kids swinging and sliding in the small playground. Aimless fathers and tired mothers watched them carefully as they screamed with joy. My heart almost broke. Sitting in the cold sunlight, I prayed to whichever god was merciful enough to hear me. I asked that Vanessa could someday play there, with those other children.

My attention was caught by a small boy who was standing by himself and watching the children playing. I wondered if anyone was with him; he didn't seem as if he were with anyone. I tried not to look at him.

It seemed like the boy was watching me, because wherever I turned, he would walk into my field of vision. My impression was that he was lost. I got up from my seat and approached him, thinking that his parents were not far.

As I closed in on him, he smiled at me. He took a few furtive steps towards me and stopped, his expression expectant.

"Hello," he said. He had an impish sort of voice with an undercurrent of innocence that only children could have. I had witnessed it many times before with Vanessa. It implied that they were either up to no good or that they were cautious. Neither prospect seemed inviting so I tried to keep an open mind.

I didn't know what to say. I asked him if he was lost. He nodded his head ever so casually. I didn't know what to make of it. I asked the most sensible thing I could think. ¹¹Are your parents here?"

A tear crept out from his eye as I mentioned his parents. It rolled down his cheek, leaving a silvery stream etched on the rosy skin.

I decided that this kid needed something (although I wasn't too sure what!) and I took him to the cafeteria in the park and treated him to a jam doughnut.

It transpired that he was ten years old and was not with his parents after all. He had no recollection of who they were or what his name was; it seemed to me as if he was suffering from amnesia. My immediate reaction was to take him to the police but lonely Vanessa stuck in my mind. This was the perfect opportunity for her to meet a new friend.

When I got home, Patricia asked who my friend was. I told her that I found him in the park and that he seemed to be suffering from amnesia. She advised me to take him to the police; his parents were probably worried sick about him. I said I would, but he needed some proper food first. She went home and left us, apparently satisfied with my remark.

MONDAY 22 DECEMBER.

They seem to be getting along. Vanessa isn't as moody as she was yesterday. She named the boy Matthew; I have no idea why. She just said that she liked the name. He didn't seem to mind, though.

TUESDAY 23 DECEMBER.

She had another attack last night. Matthew helped me, but I feel so useless. God, please! What have I done to deserve this? What has she done?

I've been reading through the papers. There was a picture of a small boy. ‘Missing’. Just that one word under the picture. I studied the image for a while and realised that I was looking at a younger Matthew. I read the story.

Matthew is a rich boy! Apparently, he had been playing with some friends when he fell and hit his head. His friends panicked and ran for help, leaving him there. When they returned, he had gone. I wasn't sure what to do.

WEDNESDAY 24 DECEMBER.

Vanessa slept peacefully last night. Thank you, God. I've been pondering over Matthew; his real name, by the way, is Timothy. His parents are shareholders in vast companies and they seem able to provide for themselves. Vanessa needs medical treatment.

I have decided not to tell Matthew who he really is. I will look after him and feed him well. I am going to contact his parents and tell them that their dear little Timothy is doing well and that if they want to see him, they will have to buy him. Why should my child suffer because her father has no money? Well, I will give her life back, just wait and see. This will be the beginning of a grand new year.

THURSDAY 25 DECEMBER.

She looks happy. Timothy, no, Matthew (I must remember) looks happy, too. I shall wait until New Year’s Eve before contacting his parents. They just look so happy. I think that this is the best Christmas that Vanessa has ever had. And mine, as well.

I've been watching them closely; they’re beginning to share secrets, probably about me! I don’t mind. As long as Vanessa is happy, I’m happy. And if Matthew makes her happy, why should I intervene?

I got up early this morning. I started to cook the Christmas lunch: turkey and potatoes in the oven; Brussels Sprouts ready; mince—meat for the pies in the fridge. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.

I went upstairs afterwards. I thought that the children would still be asleep, but they were awake and making small laughing noises behind Vanessa’s bedroom door. I allowed them their little games; it was Christmas.

I’m writing this in bed, now. Today went perfectly well. Patricia came round with some presents (she never mentioned taking Matthew to the police and I was going to ask her, but I decided against it; it might spoil the day). She had given Vanessa the complete set of the Barbie series; you should have seen her face. It brought a tear to my eye, it did. She gave Matthew an electronic racing game and we spent hours building it up and playing with it. I was quite surprised (and a little guilty) that she’d bought something for me. A set of gold cufflinks and a tie pin. I felt really embarrassed because I couldn't afford to get her anything. She smiled and told me not be so proud; this was a time of giving and she felt that she was a part of the family. God bless her! She tries so hard. Her name’s going on the birthday list next year.

Something happened later and I’m not quite sure what. I was downstairs with Patricia, going over the past year over a glass of Sherry. We didn't realise what time it was and she had to leave quite suddenly. I think it was around midnight, but I’m not quite sure. After she had left, I went upstairs to check on the children; they were unhealthily quiet. Patricia commented that they were probably asleep. I first went to Matthew’s room, being closer to the top of the stairs. I knocked first, gently, not expecting a reply. I didn't receive one. I slowly opened the door and peeped in. The room was empty. The bedclothes were unruffled. I was wondering where he was as I went to Vanessa’ s room. I stood outside for a short while, listening. There were no noises from within. I stood there a little longer; I suppose I was afraid. But the feeling passed ever so quickly, and I found myself feeling stupid for being afraid. I knocked. I heard a muffled cry from behind the door. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Vanessa was in bed. Matthew was sitting by her side. He was naked and he was leaning ever so close to her. They both turned and looked at me and my blood froze in my veins. I actually felt my pulse stop for a moment. It was in his eyes; they stared out at me with a ferocious force; as if I were the one sitting there naked. His small body was dripping with sweat and his face was somehow different. Looking back on it now, the image seems to be fading and I know, I just know that in the morning I shall forget it. That’s why I’m writing this down.

While I was standing there, Vanessa was looking at him. She is a year older than he is, and at least a foot taller, but she looked so small and vulnerable. My memory is beginning to fade slightly now. I know that he stood up and he faced me. I couldn't help noticing that he had an erection and he showed no inhibition. It looked unnatural; it was very big, even by pornographic standards. He stared at me. I felt my whole body quivering in that stare and suddenly I was standing outside the room and the door was closed. I knew what I had witnessed, yet I felt this impulse to go to my room. No; it wasn't an impulse. It felt like I had been ordered to go there, like a child sent to his room without supper.

I've read over what I've written. I now have no recollection of it in my mind; yet I know it happened. I should feel angry; yet I don’t feel anything. Is this madness? Am I going mad?

FRIDAY 26 DECEMBER.

Vanessa looks much better today. Matthew seems to be the best thing for her. Patricia came round again today. She seems to be drawn to him. She sat with him all day nearly and just talked. She still hasn't mentioned the police. I find that quite strange because she doesn't think what I've done is right. I've basically kidnapped a young boy and I’m going to hold him for ransom.

Am I the only one with a guilty conscience? Of course I am. Nobody knows what I’m planning. God, please help me.

It’s ten o’clock at night. Patricia left just five minutes ago. She has been here all day. She’s never done that before; she always comes round for a short while, makes sure that everything’s all right with me and Vanessa, then leaves. But today, she was with Matthew all day. They sat in his room and talked. They let Vanessa in later on, but I wasn't allowed in. Am I becoming paranoid?

SATURDAY 27 DECEMBER.

I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that Matthew came to my room. I dreamt that he was naked and he tried to bite me. It was horrible. I was lying on my side and all of a sudden, I felt a rush of cold air. I turned round and saw him standing there, looking at me with those mad, staring eyes. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he was thirsty. I said to him to go down to the kitchen and get a glass of water, but he just stood there and stared at me. He said he would go so I laid back again and tried to sleep. It seems weird; I was dreaming that I was trying to get to sleep. Anyway, as I closed my eyes, I felt a sharp pain on the back of neck and I quickly turned to see Matthew run out of the door. And that’s the last I remember of it.

This morning, as I was getting dressed, I noticed a hole in the collar of my pyjama. It was stained with dried blood. I felt the back of my neck. I couldn't feel anything, but I when looked at my hand, there were a few spots of blood on it.

I tried to see the wound using the hand mirror and the bathroom mirror. I could just about see two punctures on the left side of my neck, just under my ear. I became very confused; I wasn't sure what had happened to me last night.

Vanessa was ill today. Her asthma seems to have relaxed a little, but she has been wheezing a bit. When I went to her room this morning, her face was white and she had a temperature.

I asked Matthew to look after her while I went to the shops. I told him that I would get something for her and ask Patricia to come round until I returned. Without saying a word, he went to her room and sat by her side, watching her with what I could only assume was fascination mixed with worry. I left him sitting there.

I knocked at Patricia’s door. It took a long time for her to answer. When the door finally creaked back, she looked as ill as Vanessa. Too much rich food, she had said. Christmas; who needs it? I found that remark disturbing coming from a Christian woman of her steed. I didn't tell her about Vanessa and I went straight home.

There was no answer to my call as I entered the front door. I called out again and I heard a banging noise from upstairs. I raced up there and found Matthew in his room, half naked and sweating. I asked if he was all right and he just smiled at me, saying that he thinks he may have caught whatever Vanessa had. He was in the process of running a hot bath and lying in it for half an hour. I told him that I would run the bath for him and to take things easy. He smiled again at me and I thought of angels. He looked so vulnerable and sweet.

Matthew spent the rest of the day in bed. So did Vanessa. I daren't go out in case something happened to them.

As the day wore on, I fell asleep in the armchair and I was woken by the doorbell ringing frantically. I went and answered, finding Patricia standing there in the dark drizzle. She still looked quite ill; her skin was a deathly white and her eyes seemed to bulge out. I invited her in and made her a cup of tea.

I scolded her for coming out whilst feeling ill, but she said she never felt better. She asked if Vanessa was feeling better and I told her she was asleep; had been nearly all day.

We sat in silence for a short while, an uncomfortable atmosphere building up for no apparent reason. I noticed her looking at me in a peculiar way. I tried to make light conversation. We were sitting beside each other on the couch and she reached a hand over to me and stroked my cheek.

I don’t consider myself a passionate man, but the way she touched me, it made me feel the way that me Paula used to be. I felt the old desire rise in me again and I knew that she wanted the same thing. I turned to her and I kissed her. We embraced and began kissing more, our tongues probing. Soon, we were making love on the couch and during the height of our passion, she bit me.

I tried pushing her off, but she wouldn't budge. She bit harder and I felt sharp points dig into my neck. I could feel blood gushing from the wound and I finally, mercifully, blacked out.

SUNDAY 28 DECEMBER.

I woke up on the couch. I could feel a burning sensation against my closed lids and when I opened my eyes, the sunshine, streaming in through the window, seemed to burn me. I rolled off the couch and ended up under the table, in the shadow. I began screaming and shouting and Matthew came running and drew the curtains.

The burning sensation stopped and I peered out from under the table and looked at the small figure in front of me. I was thinking of how old he looked for a ten year old and why did he draw the curtains like that, as if he knew that it hurt me? Who was this child who had such an affect on people?

He seemed to know what I was thinking and I shall never forget what he said to me. Never, for as long as I am alive. I can recall every word he said to me.

"My name is neither Matthew nor Timothy." He spoke with a slight twist in his voice which I never noticed before. "My name is Laccetti. I was born in Rome many years ago. When I was ten years old, my parents sold me as an apprentice to a man. I was to become a healer; a doctor by your terms. This man had no such intention. I was purchased in order to be used as a sacrifice and I was initiated into a sect of devil worshippers. I was cursed because one man wanted to pay the price for everlasting life. And now I roam this world in search of the cure that will pardon my sins and allow me to enter the gates of heaven of which I have been denied for many centuries. That cure is love. I have searched for it in many places. Vanessa is the closest I have ever been and now my time is nearly here."

I listened at this madness and almost believed it. Again, he seemed to sense my doubt and he began to laugh. He took me upstairs (although ‘took’ doesn't seem the right word; I just found myself in the bathroom) and he told me to look into the mirror. I looked. And I screamed.

I held my hand in front of my face and stared at it. Then I looked back at the mirror; my reflection, my soul, was not there.

"It’s okay, Daddy," said Vanessa’ s voice. I turned and saw her standing directly behind me. "He will guide us. The sun will hurt us only for a little time, but vampires don’t really hate the sun. They hate what it represents: life and living and death. Vampires possess none of it and soon we will both accept our destiny. We will live forever. I will be with Laccetti and you will be with Patricia and we will live forever together. Like a real family." I stared hard at the mirror and I had an uncontrollable urge to laugh. I laughed so hard I thought my sides would split.

I looked at the two children who were now holding hands and I understood. I understood everything.

I watched them go into the bedroom and I went downstairs; waiting for Patricia to come and be with me. To be with me for the rest of eternity.