Free The Second Forever by Colin Thompson Page A

but up in the dome of the roof, lightning crackled between the great cast iron girders.
    They were in the only place in Festival’s world that was still almost deserted – the highest gallery. When Festival had left two weeks earlier, five of the thirteen galleries were underwater. Now six of them were and the water was still rising.

    Peter touched his chest and, yes, the book was there, buttoned safely away in its pocket. Syracuse was still in Festival’s arms, fast asleep as she had beenwhen they had fallen into the wall.
    When Peter and Festival had been there five years earlier, the gallery had been full of crumbling broken books. Whole backs had fallen away, revealing derelict rooms that had been abandoned long before. Now the decay was even worse. Many of the books had collapsed completely, exposing faded brick walls that had lay behind them. Peter expected to see graffiti over the walls, but there were none. Then he remembered that the trapdoors leading to the lower levels had been bolted down so that no one could come up.
    â€˜I’m not sure where my parents will be now,’ said Festival. ‘We used to live on the fifth gallery. When I left, the water was nearly up to our door and now the whole gallery is flooded.’
    â€˜I don’t think we should go and see them, anyway,’ said Peter. ‘If Darkwood does have spies, your house would be the first place he’d send them.’
    â€˜I suppose so,’ said Festival. ‘But there are other people waiting for us to come back, not just my mum and dad.’
    â€˜I know, but look where we are,’ said Peter. ‘This is the level Foreclaw lives on, remember? And my grandfather said he was on our side. Let’s go and see him. He’ll know what to do.’

    Suddenly a pile of broken book bindings flew apartand an old lady sprang out right in front of them.
    â€˜Brought it back, have you?’ she said. ‘My gold. It wasn’t a gift, you know. I only lent it to you.’
    Apart from Foreclaw, the only other person who had been living on the thirteenth gallery when they had been there last had been this crazy old lady who was scraping the gold embellishments off the derelict leather book covers. She had wrapped Peter’s finger in gold to stop it bleeding after it was bitten off.
    â€˜I forgot,’ said Peter, who did have the old lady’s gold in a tiny box in his bedroom treasure cabinet. ‘I’ve got it safely stored away, but what with one thing and another I forgot to bring it with me.’
    â€˜Sold it, more like,’ said the old lady, ‘and bought a big house in Switzerland.’
    â€˜No, I really do have it in a little box, in a cabinet where I keep all my important stuff,’ Peter said. ‘And if I had sold it, I don’t think there would have been enough to buy a ham sandwich, never mind a house anywhere.’
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous,’ said the old lady. ‘Gold is worth a fortune. Worth its weight in gold, it is, and that’s a fact.’

    â€˜Maybe,’ said Peter, ‘but its weight was minute.’ He pulled up his shirtsleeve and took off his watch. It had a gold-plated strap and case, and when the old lady saw it her eyes lit up like fire. ‘Here,’ said Peter.‘I brought you this and it weighs much more than the gold you lent us before.’
    â€˜You brought it for me?’
    â€˜Yes,’ he lied.
    â€˜Well, if you thought to bring this for me, why did you forget my own gold, then?’ she said.
    â€˜There was so much to do before we came,’ Festival snapped. ‘It was impossible to think of everything!’
    â€˜I don’t know about that,’ said the old lady.
    â€˜Okay,’ said Peter. ‘If you don’t want my priceless gold watch, I’ll keep it.’
    â€˜No, no, I’m sorry,’ said the old lady. ‘I do want it. I love it – so