Free Grimsdon by Deborah Abela Page A

princesses and evil warlords. They stopped at the end, which opened on to a rounded internal balcony. Above was a glass domed roof, and below was what used to be the entrance of the library and was now a pool with floating fragments of chairs and tables.
    â€˜Dad loved coming here,’ Isabella’s voice echoed off the water. ‘Sometimes we’d sit for whole Saturdays and not realise that time had even passed. My favourite part was upstairs. I’ll show you.’
    Isabella ran round the edge of the balcony and up a set of white marble stairs. At the top was a room painted with a flurry of stories: Little Red Riding Hood knocking on her grandmother’s door; Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in the forest; the Big Bad Wolf huffing and puffing beside Jack and his beanstalk. Long tables were strewn with books, pens, pencil cases and dome-shaped desk lamps – all abandoned in a great hurry. A carpeted well was sunk in the middle, lined with furry cushions. ‘Isn’t it great?’
    Xavier sniffed the air. ‘Yeah, except for the smell of smoke.’
    A metal clanging rang out from across the atrium. Isabella and Xavier dived into the cushioned well and peered over the edge. Through the swirling ironwork of the balconies they saw a hunched and bearded man who was muttering incessantly.
    â€˜Who’s he talking to?’ Isabella reached for her knife.
    â€˜I can’t see anyone else.’ Xavier climbed out of the well. ‘Let’s get closer.’
    â€˜He might be dangerous.’
    â€˜We beat those other guys.’ He grinned. ‘Come on.’
    â€˜That doesn’t mean–’ Isabella tried to stop him, but he was already out of reach. She frowned and climbed out after him.
    The man continued his ramblings. His beard was grey and fluffy, while his hair stuck out in plaits of various sizes from under a long-tipped sleeping hat that sometimes bobbled over his face. He wore layers of coats tied at the waist by several scarves and a pair of slippers held together by neckties.
    As they drew closer, they crouched behind a large armchair. There were fewer books on the shelves and the man was surrounded by empty cans and sheets of newspaper. Broken pieces of furniture sat in teetering piles. There was a makeshift shelter made out of boxes and lined with rugs. Fishing gear was littered everywhere: clusters of sinkers, lures, hooks and fishing reels arranged in order of size. Rods leant against walls and books on fishing lay open on shelves and tables.
    He turned to a large, frayed teddy bear slumped on a stool.
    â€˜A mystery ... never said it would work ... silly things.’ He laughed loudly. ‘Always knew. Told them. Silly. Remember?’
    â€˜Is he talking to the bear?’ Xavier raised an eyebrow.
    â€˜Looks like it.’ Isabella firmly gripped her knife.
    In the centre was a pot-belly stove filled with broken pieces of furniture. He bent down low and blew into the opened door. Smoke snaked upwards through a broken chimney. He reached over to a mound of books beside the stove. He opened one up, held the top by both hands and tore it in two.
    â€˜No!’ The word was out before Isabella could stop it.
    The man spun round, half-hunched, dropping the torn book to the floor. From a metal bucket at his feet he snatched a large fish with a pointed snout. ‘Who’rrye?’ He snarled. ‘Come awwwn! Lemme see ye!’
    â€˜Time to go.’ Xavier made a run for it, but his foot caught on the edge of the lounge and he fell, the wind knocked out of him. Isabella sprang to help but the old man moved fast and was standing over them, his eyes alight with anger, his fists clenched, the fish pointed straight at them.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Sea Monsters and Astrolabes
    â€˜What are you going to do with that?’ Xavier looked up at the pointed snout of the fish.
    â€˜Wave it ... threatening ... to spook ye. Never come back,’