19.
The football match left Emily a little shaken. First the ghosts, the szabo that she couldn’t see, then the horrible pulsating lump of slime that landed on her lap, followed shortly afterwards by spinning out and crashing into Deimos. She’d imagined that hanging out with God’s sons would be a tranquil, uplifting experience.
Not!
Interesting, yes; exciting, yes; scary, very.
Would she do it again? No, not for a while anyway!
All she wanted now was a long, hot soak in the bath, so she lit the wood burning stove to heat the water up and went for a swim in the sea, clothes and all, to get rid of the worst of two weeks’ worth of muck and filth, not to mention slime. After an afternoon spent snoozing on the sofa, the water was finally hot and as the last rays of sunshine painted golden squares on the wall, Emily descended into the luxurious, bubbly warmth of her bath.
She took it easy for a few days, spending time around the house, reading Jacqueline Wilson again and pretending that she was a normal eleven year old girl, living a normal suburban life. She was quite happy with Negrita and Enzo’s company and politely declined the invitation to Azziz and Jesus’s house-warming. By the sound of the snatches of music that the wind carried across the bay, it was quite a night.
From the comfort of her sofa, she called up Castor in her thoughts and asked him if he could help her with Unilangue.
‘Too tricky,’ he replied. ‘Let’s play backgammon instead.’
So, they played backgammon for a couple of hours. Emily was sure he was letting her win, but didn’t want to ask just in case he wasn’t.
‘Now can we talk Unilangue?’ she asked.
‘You want to learn it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’ve been using it for the past two hours. Did you ever say, ‘I move my piece from row twelve to row sixteen?’ No, you sent me an image file and then I moved my piece and sent it back and so on. You can do it. You’ve just been trying too hard.’
‘If I can do it, can you send me the recipe for chocolate brownies?’ she said, followed seconds later by, ‘Oh thanks. Yes, I can do it!’
‘Great,’ said Castor. ‘Now with practice, you can communicate with every living thing, probably even szabo. Well done grasshopper.’
Emily awoke to banging and crashing and found Zeus out on the veranda, working on his table. When he pushed one end down, the other came up. It refused to sit flat. He fought with it for a while, then cursed, ‘Poxy thing!’ and with a click of his fingers it was replaced by a solid wooden table with little tiles of fish and birds set into the top.
‘Thanks Zeus, it’s lovely,’ she said, then after thinking for a moment, asked. ‘Can you click your fingers and get me some more Jacqueline Wilson books?’
‘No, you have to order then on the Internet.’
‘I will, but how do they get here? Your boys delivered the last package.’
‘It’s a bit hit and miss, but if you address anything to an asteroid, Mars or any other place outside of Earth, it ends up in a little room at the end of the main sorting office in London, right next to the room with Father Christmas written on the door. They hold things for six months, if they’re not claimed they go to charity. With the explosion of Internet shopping, coupled with the fad for teroid clothes, it’s absolute chaos in there these days. You should see the freaks waiting outside the door! We’re going to start up a proper delivery service but in the meanwhile if anyone is down on Earth, they stop by the sorting office and pick up any parcels with postcodes in their part of the Galaxy.’
Looking out to sea, Zeus added, ‘I came here to see if you wanted fish for breakfast.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘Let’s go fishing then.’
Using mussels and limpets for bait, they fished off the rocks using hand lines. The fish were biting and after throwing a dozen mackerel back, they caught a snapper each. Barbecued up until the skin was crackly but the flesh still sweet and moist, they were delicious.
Emily offered Zeus an espresso.
‘No thanks, tea please. Do you like having my boys around?’
‘They’re lovely. But I’m giving them a wide berth. A simple invite to a soccer match turned into a two week misadventure which nearly ended up with me splattered over one of Mars’s moons!’
‘It’s never dull when they’re around. I was a little wayward too when I was a youth,’ he said with a smile which quickly turned upside-down as he added, ‘But not as slack as them. Words scare them. Words like responsibility, the spineless gits!’
‘The slimeballs from Pluto,’ said Emily, thinking it’s a good moment to change the subject. ‘Will they ever stop? They scare me, I have nightmares about them.’
‘Short of launching an invasion against Pluto, there’s not much we can do about them. But an invasion would be against the code we live by.’
‘But they’re throwing slimeballs at us; horrible, nasty slimeballs that want to eat me up!’
‘The Titans just want to provoke a reaction, but we won’t play their game. The best thing for you is to get in a fighter and go and blast a few.’
‘Thank you, but not just yet.’
Zeus and Emily went for a walk up to their favourite spot on top of the bluff and threw bits of banana over the edge and watched the seagulls swoop down after them and then fly into the distance, squabbling and fighting. The waves were bigger than usual and crashed into the base of the cliff sending spray high in to the air.
‘If I’m going to be your apprentice, I have to learn what to do,’ said Emily.
‘Do nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Yes, nothing! Like I’ve said before, people have to shape their own destiny. We’re not here to mollycoddle them. It’s best we don’t mess in teroid affairs. I once saved a little boy from being run down by a milk truck, an Austrian called Adolf. I felt like a saint. I don’t mess anymore.’
‘But you do mess. You sent The Book to Petra.’
‘I did. Do you think I did the right thing?’
‘Yes.’ Emily was quiet for a moment then asked. ‘So what do we do with Earth?’
‘Nothing, we just keep an eye on it.’
‘Can I have one of those telescopey things then?’ she asked.
‘The Worm, there’s only one. Just snap your fingers.’
Click!
Nothing happened.
‘Think what you want and where you would like it and then click your fingers.’
Click!
‘You’re not doing it right. Relax, think-’
‘How do you know I’m not doing it right?’ said Emily. ‘You don’t know where I thought. Let’s go see!’
She ran all the way back to her cottage. Zeus arrived gasping for breath five minutes later to see the Worm on the front lawn and Emily on the sofa.
Emily closed her eyes and let her mind travel to Earth.
Whaa, whaa, whaa, whaa.
Emily’s dad was holding a little baby, holding it tight to his chest and rubbing its back with his big hands.
‘It’s alright little one. Don’t cry, it’s alright,’ he murmured in that funny voice that people use for puppies and two week old babies.
Blurp!
White vomit ran down his back.
He smiled, ‘It’s alright baby.’
How cute, he must have done the same with me once.
Emily’s dad looked up at the ceiling as if reading her thoughts.
Annie was in class. She looked bored and sad. The teacher was droning on and on about the House of Tudor. He looked grey, Annie looked grey; in fact the whole classroom, like the weather outside, looked grey.
Emily felt a tap on the shoulder and opened her eyes to see a steaming hot mug of hot chocolate and a small plate of ginger nuts on the table in front of her.
‘You look like you could do with it,’ said Zeus. ‘It must be hard when you can’t be with the ones you love.’
?
??I wonder how Petra is?’ said Emily, as she plonked down her empty mug.
‘Let’s see,’ said Zeus, closing his eyes.
They zoomed in on the little Croatian island of Mulo. Emily found herself standing in the middle of the walled garden. The steel shutters on the gun ports were open, giving a glimpse of the sparkling sea and letting a cool breeze blow into the garden. It was the most beautiful garden Emily had ever seen. The air was fragrant with the scent of jasmine and summer herbs. And there was a noise that brought back memories of Spain: cicadas, chirping in the Mediterranean heat.
Petra was in her special spot, sitting on her swing under the gnarled olive tree, hidden from sight from the house by a thicket of bamboo.
Two-wit two-woo.
Emily looked up to see Theo the owl sitting on the branch above Petra. He glowed almost golden, in sharp contrast to Petra who looked sad and grey. He looked straight at Emily with his big round eyes and gave her a wink.
A couple of seconds later…
Zimp!
Petra and Theo vanish.
‘She’s off on an adventure,’ said Zeus. ‘Big things lie ahead for her, but she knows nothing of the world, just this little rock, Mulo. If she’s to survive, she needs to become worldly, and more importantly for her at the moment, she needs friends.’
‘When we saw her and her dad rescue Brian, they were in a lovely little sailboat; wouldn’t it be nice to have one.’ said Emily, looking out to sea. ‘We could cross the ocean.’
Zeus went to click his fingers.
‘No,’ said Emily. ‘We’ll build it ourselves.’
‘But, I’m an anode. You saw the table that I made.’
‘And I’m an eleven year old girl. You just saw what I’d be doing if I was back in England. I’d be bored and grey and learning about the Tudors. Let’s build a boat then go exploring the ocean.’
‘But it’ll sink!’
‘So the worst that can happen is that we’ll end up swimming. Will you help me?’
‘Okay.’
When they arrived in his moon, Pollux already had a selection of boat plans up on his screen. Enlarging one of the pictures, he said, ‘This is the standard Light House Service cutter that Petra sails in: twenty-two feet overall, pitch pine planking on oak frames. It’s a very strong and seaworthy boat but not one that I’d recommend for your first build. It takes years of experience to be able to shape the frames and fit the planks. And it weights almost a ton so you’d need a crane or a slipway to launch it. Let’s look at some other possibilities.’
His screen filled with images.
There was such an array of little boats that Emily didn’t know where to start. ‘Pollux,’ she asked. ‘What do you suggest?’
Pollux looked thoughtful for a moment, furrows etching across his forehead, then said, ‘What about a Mirror dinghy?’ and flashed up an image of a dark green, square fronted dinghy with two red sails. ‘It was the winner of a competition run by The Mirror newspaper in 1962. It’s robust, versatile and fairly light; is easy to maintain and repair, can be built with simple materials by someone with little or no experience and can be easily sailed by two teenagers.’
‘That’s us,’ said Emily.
‘Here’s some plans for you,’ said Pollux.
Drawings appeared in Emily’s head.
‘Thanks, could you print them out for me?’
‘No, I don’t have a printer. Just use the plans I’ve given you. Would you like me to order the sails, ropes and blocks?’
‘No, thanks. We’ll make them all ourselves, it’ll be more fun.’
‘I’ll arrange with the zinodes to find plywood, copper wire, fibreglass and the other bits and pieces you need.’
‘Thanks Pollux,’ said Emily, giving him two big kisses, one on each cheek.