Stormdragons

Chapter 3

Joe awoke to the splash of surf and the plaintive cry of gulls. The smell of seawater filled the room and brought back memories of previous holidays; building sandcastles, hunting for crabs. He pushed the memories aside.

'Been there, done that,' he said to himself, rolling over and wrapping the duvet tight around his shoulders.

He dozed, thinking of nothing in particular. He ignored his sister when she called his name. Eventually, when her gentle taps had turned into loud knocks, he agreed to get up.

Yawning and stretching, he walked across to the window and looked out. The town of Falscombe was away to his left. A line of houses ran down to the harbour, almost to the sea itself. A small forest of masts poked above the harbour wall.

'No way is Uncle Toby going to get me in a boat,' he promised himself.

In front of the window stretched a long, sandy beach, pitted with rock pools. This beach curved away to the right, becoming increasingly narrow and stoney, until it ended in a rocky headland. On the map this steep and jagged piece of cliff was named Falscombe Point but the locals called it Wrecker's Edge on account of the terrible shipwrecks that had taken place there over the years.

Joe yawned again. It was a pretty scene but it held little interest for him. He preferred life at home. A few friends, a new video game, a full fridge and Mum to tidy up afterwards. What could be better?

He was stepping away from the window when he saw a vehicle turn off the cliff road and begin heading his way. It was a police car. Joe's chest tightened. He'd forgotten Uncle Toby was missing. Could this be bad news? Best leave Clare to deal with it. He climbed back into bed and tried to think of something else.

'Well?' he asked later when the police had gone. 'What's the news?'

There were tears in Clare's eyes.

'Uncle Toby's been missing since Saturday afternoon. He went sailing and hasn't returned.'

Joe frowned.

'Maybe he's been delayed. Maybe the wind wasn't in the right direction or something.'

Clare blew her nose and shook her head.

'He had someone with him - Pete Copsey, do you remember him?'

'Sort of.'

'Well, according to Mr Copsey they were sailing a few miles offshore when they got caught in a terrible storm. He was thrown overboard and when he surfaced Uncle Toby's boat had disappeared.'

'Have they called out the coastguard? Mounted a search?'

'Mr Copsey got picked up by a fishing boat which radioed the coastguard immediately.'

'What did they do?'

'They tried to contact Uncle Toby on the radio but couldn't get through. So they started a search for him.'

'What happened next?'

'Nothing much. Pete Copsey arrived back in Falscombe, went home and hit the bottle. No one can get any sense out of him. He keeps talking a load of gibberish about freak storms and flying monsters.'

Joe laughed. Clare scowled at him.

'It's not funny, Joe. Your Uncle's been missing for a day and a half.'

'But there's been no sign of wreckage, right?'

'They've had helicopters and lifeboats and goodness knows what else covering the area but no one's seen a thing.'

Clare got to her feet and put the kettle on. It was the worst possible start to what was meant to be a week's holiday. She sighed.

'We'll have to tell Mum and Dad, of course. The police tried to phone us yesterday. But we were out.'