Read Billy Angel for Free Online

was swimming with images: Thelma and her pie slice; Charlie Pittam, the love-rat sausage swallower; Stan Spooner choking on pies…
    â€˜Hey – I’ve just had a thought,’ beamed Grant. ‘Why don’t you both come along to the competition tomorrow? You can drop off your bill then, too.’
    Dad grinned.
    â€˜No!’ I tried to shout, but somehow the word wouldn’t come out, and I felt the nipping sensation again.
    â€˜It’ll be a great night. Piles of pies, lots of excitement,’ said Grant. ‘And I’ve got a bit of a surprise in store myself.’
    Dad beamed. ‘We’d be delighted.’
    I tried to shout again. ‘NO! NO MORE PIES!’
    But still nothing came out. And I suddenly had a scary thought: was this my inner angel messing with my mind?
    In the car on the way back home, I tried to piece it all altogether. According to the hoodie-angel,something awful was going to happen to Thelma tomorrow. And no matter how much I disliked her (and, more to the point, was terrified of her), I’d been charged with protecting her. Tomorrow was also the night of the pie-eating competition, where her ex-boyfriend would be competing. I knew it was a dangerous sport. People died scoffing pies. People like poor Stan Spooner – the record-breaking pie eater.
    Suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. Thelma was obviously going to knobble one of Charlie’s pies during the competition. All she needed to do was stick something lumpy in there and hope he’d choke! Fish eyes, newts’ feet, a lump of pig hair… they’d all do the trick: no wonder she’d been ‘working on some new recipes’. Goth girl had got it wrong. This wasn’t anything to do with hocus-pocus high jinks. This was plain and simple murder. And my mission was obviously to somehow stop Thelma from going through with it. But there was one small detail I couldn’t quite work out – how was I, William Box, reluctant plumber, and small, skinny eleven-year-old boy, going to stop Thelma from doing
anything
?

Chapter 9
    â€˜Billy!’ bawled Mum. ‘It’s for you.’
    It was the next morning and I was still in my pyjamas when the doorbell rang.
    â€˜Who is it?’ I yelled. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Barry was still on holiday (lucky devil) and all my other friends are never out of bed before twelve.
    There was a pause, and then. ‘It’s Gaby… from the shop!’
    Gaby from the shop? What shop? Gaby who? Reluctantly, I decided I’d better find out.
    â€˜Hello, Billy, you left your feather behind.’
    It was Goth girl.
    â€˜Oh, right,’ I muttered. I could see Mum hovering in the kitchen with a smile on her face. My heart sank. She obviously thought that this was my girlfriend. ‘Well, thanks for dropping it off. Be seeing you…’
    I tried to shut the door, but her small, black leather boot was blocking the way.
    â€˜So, Billy,’ she said cheerfully, ‘have you worked out how you’re going to stop Thelma from slicing up that sausage swallower?’
    â€˜Ssh!’ I said. ‘Keep it down.’ I could see Mum craning her neck from the kitchen, with that same soppy look on her chops. Actually I
had
finally worked out a plan. ‘It’s simple,’ I said confidently. ‘I’m going to go back to the pie shop and tell Thelma I’m there to do a follow-up examination of the plumbing system. That way I’ll be able to keep my eye on her and find out what she’s really up to.’
    â€˜Well, that’s rubbish,’ said Gaby. ‘For a start, Thelma’s not working today. I’ve just been to the shop, looking for you. Grant the pie chef gave me your dad’s card. That’s how I got here.’
    â€˜Great! Well, thanks again for the feather. Be seeing you.’
    I tried to shut the door again, but still she wouldn’t move her