Stormdragons

Chapter 8

By lunchtime Clare was getting anxious. She knew Joe hadn't got much money and he hated looking after himself. He should be back by now, hungry and expecting to be fed. But he hadn't shown. Was he trying to punish her because of their angry words over breakfast?

By three o'clock, she was really worried. Perhaps he'd had an accident on his bike. It was time to go looking for him.

She drove the car into Falscombe. There was no sign of Joe anywhere. She drove slowly along the cliff road right up to where it ended and the footpath to Wrecker's Edge began. Here she came across two boys carrying rucksacks and wheeling bicycles. She described Joe to them and asked them if they had seen him. They hesitated, glanced at each other and shook their heads.

It began getting dark. She headed away from the cliff and began searching farm tracks and little roads. No luck. She drove back to the bungalow with a heavy heart.

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Joe worked on the padlock for hours. He tried to spring the release catch by poking and probing the keyhole with pieces of broken bone. Time and again the bone broke. The lock remained stubbornly closed.

Sometimes he despaired and sat there with his back against the wall. But not for long. He needed something to keep his mind off his hunger and thirst.

Eventually, rummaging around for another piece of bone, he noticed a short section of green gardening wire lying half-hidden in the grass. It was just in reach. He twisted the wire into a shape like a hairpin and set to work with renewed hope, his hunger and thirst forgotten. And just when he thought that the task was impossible, that he'd tried every angle and every movement, there was a click. The padlock arm lifted.

Joe felt a feeling of great satisfaction flood through his body. 'Eat your words, Lefevre,' he said to himself as he stepped free from his chains.

Joe peered cautiously round the side of the house. There was no one about and no suspicious-looking bird in the sky. He ran for his bicycle, mounted and peddled off at top speed, ignoring the wobble from the front wheel.

Clare and Joe shared a big hug when they were reunited. Joe was so happy to be back that he forgot to be cool. Clare was so relieved to see him that she forgot to be angry.

Joe told his story as they tucked into platefuls of sausages, mashed potato and baked beans. Clare was outraged. After supper, she showed him the illustration in the book about King Arthur.

'That's her, all right. Toby's had her drawn as a witch and good for him. He must have come to hate her like we do,' said Joe.

'You don't remember this same illustration from when you were young, Joe?' asked Clare.

'Not really,' he replied.

'Well, I do. And it hasn't changed. What's more, the book's really old. It was published in 1947.'

Joe thought for a while.

'You must be wrong. Lefevre's too young to be the model. The picture must have been altered by computer,' he said.

'I suppose so, unless it's her grandmother or something' said Clare, reluctantly.

Joe flicked through the book looking for other illustrations of the witch Morgan Le Fay. He didn't find one but he did spot something interesting.

'Look here, Clare,'

He pointed to a picture of Merlin the Wizard. Merlin was standing in a dark wood, looking angry and determined. His staff was raised in defiance. A beam of light issued from its glowing tip. Behind him a huge creature could just be seen, swooping out of the clouds.