Stormdragons

Chapter 4

When she had put away the shopping and checked for messages, Clare took a cup of coffee into Uncle Toby's living room. It was a small room but one that had a great view of the sea. Clare had spent many happy hours here, reading or peering through the telescope. Now, though, the room was in a terrible mess. The bookshelves had been emptied and the books scattered all over the floor.

She sighed. It seemed wrong to be drinking coffee in her uncle's living room when he might be fighting for his life somewhere. She placed her coffee on a table and set about replacing the books on the shelves. Many of them were large, hard-backed children's books. They brought back memories from when she was a little girl. She remembered the effort it had taken her to drag them to the armchair and heave them onto her lap.

Soon she came across one of her favourites: The Arabian Nights, Fully Illustrated With 36 Colour Plates. And what wonderful illustrations they were. She searched for the ones of which she was especially fond. The genie coming out of the bottle; the leader of the Forty Thieves in front of the rock calling out 'Open Sesame'. Here they were in all their glory.

She was about to close the book and put it away when her eye caught something. She flicked back. It was a picture of Sinbad the Sailor and his crew. They were on board ship nearing the island of Zughb. A horde of ape-men were swimming out towards them. She remembered the picture well; how frightened she'd once been by the sight of all those ape-like creatures with their hairy arms and legs thrashing the water. But something wasn't right. Something had changed. Frowning, she scanned the page carefully.

When she saw what had changed, she gasped aloud. Was her mind playing tricks on her?

'How very odd,' she said to herself.

She studied the picture carefully. There, unmistakably, appearing as one of Sinbad's crew, was her uncle. Same build, same beard, same everything. She had never seen him there before. She was sure of it. The picture had changed.

Mac led Joe out of Falscombe and onto the cliff road. Soon he turned right, taking a narrow single-track road which headed uphill and away from the sea. This was harder cycling. Joe had to get out of his saddle to keep his momentum going. Mac powered on at the front until ordered to slow down by Spud who was falling behind.

A few minutes later a thatched cottage came into view. It was neat and pretty, like something from a book or a dream. It was surrounded by a white picket fence. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney. The walls were white and covered with climbing roses. The window frames and the door were dark green. In the doorway stood a woman, half-hidden by shadow.

Only when Mac had stopped by the gate did the woman move forward. She stepped down from the doorway like a statue descending from its pedestal. Joe couldn't tell whether she was young or old. Her build was quite youthful and slender but there was something formal and old-fashioned about her clothes and her manner. She wore a full-length, dark green dress. Long curls of chestnut hair tumbled down her neck and over her shoulders. Her skin was pale and she was very beautiful.

'Here he is, Madame Lefevre,' said Spud, breathless but proud. 'We spotted him right enough and invited him back like you said we should.'

Madame Lefevre smiled.

'Well done, indeed. You have earned your reward,' she said.

She stepped forward and handed Spud some folded banknotes which she had ready in her pocket. Spud turned to Mac and grinned. Joe felt as if he was being bought or ransomed. Why hadn't the woman just called in to see him and Clare?

Spud asked Madame Lefevre if she had any other jobs that she needed doing.

'Not right now, but come back tomorrow morning. I might have something for you then,' she told him.