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“What?” The gargoyle was looking offended. “Into the ladies’ toilet? I kind of don’t think that would—”
“I don’t care what you think it would be. There aren’t many places where a girl can talk to demons in peace, and I don’t want to risk being overheard. So come on.”
Holding his nose, the gargoyle reluctantly followed me into the ladies’, where the only smell was a faint one of lemony disinfectant. I glanced quickly at the cubicles. All vacant. “Right. Now listen to me. I know I’m probably not about to shake you off in a hurry, but if you want to stick around, you have to keep a few rules, understand?”
“No picking my nose, no rude words, no scaring dogs,” chanted the gargoyle.
“What? No, what I want is for you to agree to leaving me alone in private. I want to be on my own at night, and in the bathroom, and if anyone happens to kiss me”—here I had to swallow—“I don’t want any audience then either. Is that clear?”
“Tut, tut!” The gargoyle clicked his tongue. “And that from someone who’s dragged me into a ladies’ toilet!”
“Well, is it a deal? You respect my privacy?”
“No way do I want to watch you showering or—yuck, heaven preserve me!—kissing anyone,” said the gargoyle emphatically. “You really don’t have to worry about that. And as a rule, I think it’s a dead bore watching people asleep. All that snoring and slobbering, not to mention the other stuff—”
“What’s more, I don’t want you gabbling away when I’m at school or talking to someone—and please, if you have to sing, keep it for when I’m not around.”
“I can do a really good trumpet imitation too,” said the gargoyle. “And a tuba imitation. Do you have a dog?”
“No!” I took a deep breath. I was going to need nerves of iron to cope with this little guy.
“Couldn’t you get one? Or a cat would be better than nothing, but they always look down their noses at you, and it’s not so easy to wind a cat up. A good many birds can see me, too. Do you have a bird?”
“My grandmother can’t stand pets,” I said. I was about to say she probably wouldn’t have much time for invisible pets either, but I swallowed the words again. “Okay, now let’s start over again from the beginning: My name is Gwyneth Shepherd. Nice to meet you.”
“Xemerius,” said the gargoyle, beaming all over his face. “Pleased to meet you too.” He climbed up on the washbasin and looked deep into my eyes. “Really! Very, very pleased! Will you buy me a cat?”
“No. And now get out of here. I have to go to the loo.”
“Urggh!” Xemerius stumbled hastily through the door without opening it first, and I heard him strike up “Friends Will Be Friends” again out in the corridor.
I spent much longer in the ladies’ than really necessary. I washed my hands thoroughly and splashed plenty of cold water on my face, hoping it would clear my head. But that didn’t stop my confused ideas from going round and round like a carousel. My reflection in the mirror looked as if crows had been nesting in my hair, and I ran my fingers through it to smooth it out, meanwhile trying to encourage myself. The way my friend Lesley would have done if she’d been here.
“Only a couple of hours and then you’ll be through with it, Gwyneth. And, hey, considering you’re so tired and hungry, you don’t look too bad.”
My reflection peered reproachfully at me out of large eyes rimmed by dark shadows.
“Okay, that was a lie,” I admitted. “You look terrible. But you’ve been known to look worse. For instance when you had chicken pox. So chin up! You can do it.”
I found Xemerius dangling from a chandelier in the corridor like a bat. “It’s a bit creepy in here,” he said. “A one-armed Knight Templar just walked by. Friend of yours?”
“No,” I said. “Thank God, he isn’t. Come on, we have to go this way.”
“Will you explain time travel to me?”
“I don’t understand it myself.”
“Will you buy me a cat?”
“No.”
“Come to think of it, I know where you can get cats for free. Hey, there’s a person inside that suit of armor.”
I cast a surreptitious glance at it. Sure enough, I had the feeling that I saw a pair of eyes glittering behind the closed visor. It was the same suit of armor I’d tapped cheerfully on the shoulder yesterday, naturally thinking it was just there for decoration.
Somehow yesterday seemed years ago.
I met Mrs. Jenkins, the secretary, outside the door of the Dragon Hall. She was carrying a tray and was glad that I could hold the door open for her.
