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‘They don’t know that.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I need another dictionary. And it’ll look weird if I go alone.’
Jack thought it was a bit weird, and his stomach agreed, but he decided he could put off his sandwich for a couple of minutes if his sister really thought they should.
‘All right.’
Jaide told Mr Carver and he gave them permission to ride home, provided they were back in time for the afternoon session. They assured him they would be, and ran off to their bikes.
As they pedalled up Dock Road, Jack felt an unnerving sensation between his shoulder blades, as though someone was watching him closely. He studied the shops to his right, but could see no one looking at them. The fish market to his left was full of people, but none of them were paying attention to him either. He told himself he was imagining things and pedalled furiously to catch up to Jaide, who had pulled ahead while he was distracted.
They dropped their bikes on the lawn and ran up the front steps. Jaide grabbed the front door handle and turned it, but instead of bursting into the house as they always did, they crashed headlong into the door. For the first time ever, it was locked.
‘Ow!’ said Jack, rubbing his elbow. He tried the handle himself, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Now what?’
Jaide kicked the door as though it had affronted her personally. ‘We try the back, I guess.’
It was the same with the laundry door. No matter how they wrenched the handle, it wouldn’t turn.
‘The curtains are closed too,’ said Jack, stepping back to stare up at the windows.
‘What’s she up to in there?’ muttered Jaide.
Something rattled in the garden next door, perhaps a brick dropping from the rundown walls, or a careless footfall kicking a stone, and the twins turned as one to stare at the fence.
Both of them expected to see Martin McAndrew there, staring at them with inquisitive eyes and his all-too-brilliant smile. But there was no sign of him.
‘Hello?’ called Jaide.
Jack didn’t say anything. The odd feeling had returned. In one of the empty windows, from the shadows of the house’s hollow shell, he was sure that someone or something was watching them. He was also sure it wasn’t a vandal.
‘Ari? Kleo?’
Jaide tried to sound brave, but she was feeling it too. The tiny patch of skin between her shoulder blades itched worse than a mosquito bite and the hair of her arms was all standing on end.
‘Grandma?’
A sliver of broken glass slipped from its frame and smashed, sending a tiny avalanche down the side of the ruined house. The courage of both twins broke at exactly that moment, and they turned and fled round the other side of their grandmother’s house. Whatever was lurking next door, they didn’t want to face it alone, not when they were barred from the only place in Portland they felt truly safe, Grandma X’s home.
‘Was it The Evil?’ gasped Jack as he leapt on to his bike.
‘I don’t know, and I’m not going back to ask!’
They pedalled pell-mell down the cobbled lane, glancing over their shoulders to make sure no one was following them.
‘Stop right there!’ a voice cried.
CHAPTER NINE
Where There’s Fire . . .
Jack and Jaide skidded to a halt, very nearly bowling over a woman in a post office uniform standing sturdily in the middle of the lane. She had raised one hand in a commanding gesture, like a traffic policeman. All the hounds of Hades could have been on their heels, but nothing would have compelled them to disobey the fierce expression on her broad face.
‘Not so fast! And why aren’t you at school? Are you Jaidith and Jackaran Shield?’
Jack could only gape at her, stunned by the barrage of questions. The postwoman wasn’t large in stature, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in her barking tone.
‘I – I’m Jaide.’
‘A postcard for you, here.’ The woman thrust a small stack of mail into her hand. ‘It is from your father. He wishes you well.’
‘Thanks . . .?’
The postwoman turned her attention to Jack. ‘So you must be Jack. You are too quiet. Why did you not answer my question? I have a postcard for you too. Your sister has it now. You could have had it first. He tells wild stories, just like he used to.’
‘It’s not . . . I mean . . . that is, we were in a hurry to get back to school.’
‘No child is ever in a hurry to get to school. You rode as though the monster itself was after you.’ Her keen green eyes narrowed. ‘Have you seen it?’
Jack didn’t know. He hadn’t seen anything so far that could definitely have been the monster, for all that he felt and suspected.
‘Have you ?’ Jaide asked on an impulse.
The postwoman sucked in air through narrow, wide-spaced teeth. Her eyes lost their focus and her voice some of its harsh tone. ‘A huge thing it is, with the tail of a dragon and the head of a wolf. A chimera. You are very clever children. They say the monster lived in Portland long before mankind ever did, and ate the first settlers who tried to build here. I haven’t seen it myself, but my sister did, and she died of the fright. She said it had six long legs and scales like dinner plates.’
‘How could she have said that if it frightened her to death?’ asked Jack.
The postwoman’s focus returned. ‘It was a slow fright, in her lungs. Some people said she smoked too much, but I knew.’
‘OK . . . sure.’ Jaide shifted restlessly on her feet. ‘Can we go now ?’
‘Yes, yes. Back to school with you, and be brisk about it! No dawdling! The clock is ticking!’
The postwoman obeyed her own imperative, turning smartly to march off along the cobbled lane and, turning left, disappear up Parkhill Street.
‘Completely bonkers,’ said Jack. His stomach rumbled as though in agreement. Now that his fright had passed, his hunger had returned with a vengeance. ‘Can we eat our lunch now?’
‘No, we still have to get a dictionary.’
‘Where from?’
‘Wait a second and I’ll show you. I don’t want to go anywhere until she’s long gone. And while we wait . . .’
Jaide leafed through the stack of letters until she came to the card from their father, noticing as she did so that all of the letters were addressed To the occupant or To the proprietor or even To the lady of the house. No one addressed Grandma X by name – something they had observed when first arriving in Portland, but which they’d never got to the bottom of. When asked, she always changed the subject or said it was yet another mystery.
At the very bottom of the stack were two postcards from somewhere in Europe, one addressed to Jaide, the other to Jack, just as the postwoman had promised. Jaide’s started with Dear troubletwisters and ended midsentence. Jack’s picked up from there, and concluded in the bottom corner with a PS. The letter in its entirety said:
Dear troubletwisters,
So you found my old football, did you? I thought I’d lost that long ago! You know, I once kicked a goal in Scarborough from the pitch in Portland. Shame you popped it. (I advise against trying anything like that while your mother is present. Or ever. Don’t forget your promise.) You can probably tell that I’m not in Venice any more. Where I’ve gone is a mystery to me, as the storm I was using blew off-course, but I’m sure I’ll work it out soon enough. This is just a quick note to say that I miss you both immensely and wish we were together.
Love always,
Dad xx
PS Don’t forget your promise!
Jack leaned closely over Jaide’s shoulder to read with her.
‘How did he know about the football?’ he asked. ‘That was only yesterday! And how did these cards get here so quickly?’
Jaide had as little idea as he did. ‘He’s a Warden,’ she said. ‘I guess he can do things like this.’
‘Did Grandma X tell him or is he spying on us somehow?’
‘I don’t know that either.’ The matter of the
promise bothered her. They were sneaking around behind Grandma X’s back, which they knew she wouldn’t like – but what else were they supposed to do, when she was keeping secrets from them and ignoring everything they thought was important? If The Evil had found a way back into Portland, it was up to them to stop it, and them alone.
She put the post into her schoolbag. They had bigger things to worry about than what their faraway father was up to. ‘Come on. Let’s get that dictionary.’
They headed to the bookshop by their house. Its proprietor, Rodeo Dave, was sitting behind the counter, grooming his moustache with a tiny brush, when the twins came in.
‘Howdy, neighbours!’ He rushed out and shook both their hands, nearly toppling a stack of bargain paperbacks as he went. ‘What can I do for you this fine day? If you’re looking for Kleo, I’m afraid she’s elsewhere. Haven’t seen much of her lately, come to think of it. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend.’
His grin was wide and infectious. There was no one else in the bookshop, but that wasn’t unusual. In the last week, Jack had seen only two customers browsing the shelves. And no wonder, he thought: the books were stacked right up to the ceiling, in no obvious order. Romances cosied up to fat political biographies, which looked uncomfortable in the company of trashy sci-fi novels and murder mysteries. Rare editions slummed it with paperbacks, and encyclopedias warred with condensed novels for control of their shelves. Everywhere was the smell of old paper and glue, and dust, thick with every breath.
‘We’re looking for a dictionary,’ said Jaide. ‘A good one. The one at school is hopeless and Mr Carver is never going to let us use the computers today.’
‘Ah!’ Rodeo Dave rubbed his hands together. ‘I have just the thing.’
He led them to a deep, dark corner of the shop and proudly showed them a series of thick grey volumes that filled an entire shelf. Jaide pulled one out and cradled it in two hands. It seemed to weigh as much as she did and covered just the letter E. She put it back.
