Free Troubletwisters by Garth Nix, Sean Williams Page B

year.’
    ‘Was there a plague?’
    ‘Maybe an accident.’
    Jack hoped their father was okay, wherever he was. ‘Look for Shields. Dad’s dad came from here, remember?’
    They separated in search of their family history. Quite a few of the gravestones had become illegible with the passage of time, the carved letters eroded beyond any possibility of puzzling them out. Despite this, several Shields stood out, notably a Giles Chesterton Shield, who had died thirty-three years ago and lay buried alone in one corner of the cemetery. There were no words on his headstone, apart from his name and the date, but there was a compass-shaped insignia carved into the marble, which looked markedly less weathered than the stone around it.
    ‘I guess this must be our grandfather . . .’ said Jack. He felt like he should take his hat off, but he wasn’t wearing one. Instead he bowed his head a little bit and felt solemn.
    Jaide looked behind them to see if Grandma X was watching them from the car with her opera glasses. But the old car was gone.
    Jaide felt free, as if relieved of some constraint or leash. Though she was curious about this whole new branch of her family tree, the prospect of endless pots of plastic flowers, worn granite and dead, dusty things faded in comparison to the much more interesting places to explore nearby.
    Especially the great hill of stone that loomed up so very close to them.
    ‘Race you to the top,’ she said, pointing at the Rock. ‘There’s a path, look!’
    ‘I already saw the path,’ said Jack, but he hesitated. ‘Do you think Grandma X would let us?’
    ‘It’s in sight of the lighthouse,’ replied Jaide. ‘Well, the top is, anyway – and she didn’t say we couldn’t.’
    ‘Or shouldn’t ,’ said Jack with a grin.
    They ran to where the sign advertised the start of a walking trail, by the rear of the old church. The trail wasn’t paved; instead, numerous feet had cleared the way of weeds and pounded the dirt to something like concrete. The way was easy at first, but it grew steadily steeper, winding back and forth around sudden rocks and promontories, with the occasional bench for people to catch their breath. The twins were the only two on the track. They quickly climbed to a height where the path narrowed and hurrying seemed unwise, so they settled into a more cautious, steady plod upward.
    The higher they got, the stronger the wind became. Jack hugged himself tightly against its bite. It was so strong, he had to brace himself when they reached the top. From the summit, as they stood next to a small stone memorial with a metal plaque, Portland was entirely revealed to them, as though they were looking at a model.
    The bay swept in an almost complete circle from Lighthouse Park to Mermaid Point. There was a breakwater on the south lip, protecting the angular marina from the open sea, though today the swell was massive, and the spray from the breaking waves was carrying well over the huge stones. A smattering of shops served the marina on that side of the bay, mostly old buildings but all sporting some form of renovation or extension. On the northern side of the bay there were sand flats and a dredger bobbing wildly, even in the partially sheltered waters.
    The red roofs of newer houses stretched inland, roughly following the river, which had swampland bordering it, particularly on the northern side. To the west there was a smaller version of the Rock, which a railway tunnel ran through like thread through the eye of needle.
    Along the coast to the south there was another beach, less hospitable than the one they had visited the previous day, with forests of seaweed crowding close to the shore. Jaide’s eyes were drawn to it. She wished the weather would clear up so they could go for a swim. A bit of seaweed didn’t worry her.
    A particularly strong gust of wind pushed both of them back, and Jaide suddenly felt herself becoming weightless for an instant, as though she might be