The fire cleared just as they all were quite sure they were going to be roasted. They sat up, sweating, and looked through rolls of smoke to find the yellow paint of the digger was brown and blistered. Its scoop was shoved some of the way through the wall of the building. But the wall was no longer blank. There was now a door where there had been no door before. Archer came out through it.
“How dare you knock down my house!” he shouted. He jumped onto the scoop of the digger and came running up the metal to the cab. He was so angry that his face did not look like a face. It was more like a white mask with blue eyeholes. “Oh, it’s you!” he said to Erskine. His voice grated through the cab. “I thought you were Venturus. What do you think you’re doing in this thing?”
“Use them, too,” said Erskine. “Dig drains. Talk to you.”
“Go away!” Archer shouted, putting his face to the glass opposite Erskine’s. “I’m not talking to anyone!”
“Have to,” said Erskine. “Blew a water main. Want satisfaction. People hurt.”
“Who cares!” shouted Archer.
“Me,” said Erskine. They glared at each other through the glass.
Howard put a hand to his head, as if he had just had an idea, and swept his fringe back. “Archer!” he called out. “We could get Fifi back for you.” Archer turned to Howard. He looked at him, but he did not recognize him. He was too absorbed in his rage. “We’ll get her back,” Howard called. “But you have to stop all your fireworks first.”
“What for?” shouted Archer.
“Won’t get her without,” said Erskine. “Distracting.”
Archer folded his arms and balanced where he was, scowling. “If I stop”—his voice grated—“how do I know you’ll get Fifi?”
“We promise,” Howard called. “Keep your screen open. We’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve found her.”
Archer considered. He seemed to think Howard was honest. He nodded. “All right,” he said, as if it were a big favor. It did not seem to occur to him that Howard was speaking like someone with inside knowledge, but it could have been that Erskine did not give him time to consider anymore. The moment Archer nodded, Erskine began swinging the digger around. Its scoop wrenched out of the wall. It turned so quickly that Archer barely had time to jump down. In fact, Howard had a feeling that Erskine actually tipped Archer off.
“Where are we going now?” Awful shouted as the digger rattled back across the parking lot.
“Torquil,” said Erskine. “Before Shine gets to know.”
As Erskine turned out into the road again, there were signs that Archer was already trying to control his rage. There was not quite such a shower of sparks spraying from the streetlights, and the fires worming along the overhead wires were traveling more slowly. “Won’t Shine notice?” Howard called.
“I’ll go take her mind off it,” Ginger shouted. “On conditions.”
They all turned and looked at him. He seemed very determined about something, and he had gone very white. Several hundred freckles, which Howard had not noticed before, showed up bright yellow-brown all over Ginger’s face, even mixed up with the purple of his black eye. Erskine glanced up at the wires. The fires there were now traveling in bursts, like fiery beads on a string. He stopped the digger by the curb. It gave giant rattling sobs, like Awful in a temper, and they still had to shout rather.
“What conditions?” said Howard.
“That Archer,” said Ginger. “He scares me. Awful here says he wants to run the world. Right?”
“Do it better than Hitler,” said Erskine. “Only like this in a temper. Have to keep him happy.”
“He flies off like this when he’s happy sometimes,” Howard said. “You know he does, Erskine.”
“Bound to,” said Ginger. “He’s that type, like my old man. And Shine’s another. She’s after the world, too. How many more of them are there?”
“Dillian,” said Howard. “Torquil.”
“And him,” Ginger said, nodding his freckled chin at Erskine. “He’s one of them, too, isn’t he?”
“Only want to stop living in sewers,” Erskine said earnestly. “Swear it. Want to travel. Might write a book. Want your dad to teach me how.” While Howard was trying not to smile at this idea, Erskine said to Ginger, “Howard’s one, too. Knew that, did you?”
“Erskine!” Howard shouted. “I don’t want to farm anything!”
Ginger nodded. “I wondered if you were. Now here’s the conditions.” He swung himself half out of the cab and hung there invitingly. “You stop Archer and the rest, and I’ll keep Shine busy. If you don’t, I’ll set her on you instead.”
Howard wanted to protest that no one could stop Archer, let alone the others. But he knew there was a way. He took a deep regretful breath, thinking of twenty-six years of work, elegant technology, superb engineering, stars in the viewscreens, planets circling the stars—all gone. “All right, we’d better get them on my spaceship somehow and send them packing into space.”
“Spaceship!” said Ginger. He hung on to the side of the digger and stared at Howard. There was a gleam in the wide good eye and the half-closed bad one that told Howard he was looking at a fellow spaceship addict.
“I’ll show it to you,” he said.
“I think I believe you,” said Ginger. “Many wouldn’t. Make that a bargain, and I’ll be off to Shine now. See you.” He dropped to the ground and went racing off downhill, under the dying showers of sparks.
Erskine started the digger again and drove top speed toward the cathedral. Howard stared sadly ahead. Two days ago Ginger Hind had been out to get him. And now Ginger had, even though he had not meant to. Howard could have cried at losing his spaceship a second time. He barely noticed that the scoop of the digger had come loose after the attack on Archer’s workshop. It gave out a loud clanking and made the digger weave from side to side. Howard was irritated to hear great Goon guffaws coming through the noise. Erskine was laughing and pounding the steering wheel with a great fist.
“Made it!” Erskine shouted. “Made you say it! Been working you around to it all along!” He glanced around at Howard. “Now going to make you do it.”
Howard lost his temper. He unwisely called Erskine a gorilla and tried to hit him. Erskine stuck out the elbow nearest Howard and held him off with no trouble at all. He swung his other arm around, causing the digger to waltz about in the road, and brought that hand up against Howard’s ear. Erskine probably thought of it as a light pat. Howard saw stars. His head rang. Dizzily he saw the stone gateway to the cathedral court coming up at them. Howard would have said that there was barely room for a digger to get through that arch if it was traveling in the normal way, let alone with a loose scoop that was wagging from side to side. But somehow Erskine scraped them through it. There were clangs, and sparks flew that were neither Archer’s doing nor in Howard’s head. Awful laughed. She was loving this.
As they bounced and clanged across the cobbles in front of the cathedral, there were more sparks, spraying out of the floodlights and hissing in the puddles, but the balls of fire traveling down the spire had stopped. Erskine stopped the digger with a croak outside the west door. He hopped down. Howard slid down after Awful, holding his hot right ear. It was all very well, he thought, but Erskine had not had to be a child three times over, in order to get that spaceship.
“You were Venturus when we both were grown-up, weren’t you?” Awful whispered to him as they climbed the steps. “You’ll have to do what I say now, or I’ll tell Mum and Dad.”
Oddly enough, this made Howard feel better, because Awful had recognized him after all. “You try,” he said. “Venturus can do things to you.”
The cathedral door was locked because of vandals. But this did not bother Erskine. His knife came out, and there was a loud click. The door came open, and he strode in. A small verger in a black robe hurried up to them.
“Emergency,” Erskine said to the verger. “Electric. Shorting all over town.” And he strode on. The verger looked as if he might have protested if Erskine had been a size or so smaller. Howard felt the heat from his ear spread over his face. It was the Town Hall all over again. He followed Erskine up between rows of chairs, past some ladies arranging flowers below the pulpit. The ladies looked as if they had wanted to stop Erskine, too. But when they saw the size of him, they suddenly became very busy admiring a lily one of them was holding. Erskine strode on.
Torquil was in a side chapel. Knowing what Torquil was like, Howard thought the chapel ought to be dedicated to Saint Torquil—if there was such a saint—but it was called Dedicated to Private Prayer. Erskine stopped outside the chapel and edged himself, in a guilty, apologetic way, into a handy empty niche in the wall. “You speak to him,” he whispered to Howard. Knowing what Erskine was like by now, Howard looked at him suspiciously. Erskine put on his most placating grin. “Torquil hates me,” he explained, and he took hold of Awful’s arm to stop her from going with Howard.
This made Howard quite sure that Erskine was pushing him into something else, but he could not see what it might be. He unlatched the wrought-iron gate to the chapel and slipped inside. Torquil did not seem to see him. He just sat on the altar steps, clasping his knees, under banners saying “British Legion” and “Mother’s Union,” staring unhappily at nothing. Howard was surprised. On a Saturday night there ought to be enough music and dancing coming up to keep Torquil happy for a week. And he was ashamed to be there. He could see Torquil wanted to be alone.
That took him back to the views he had had of all six, just now in the future. Torquil was not the only one who had been alone. Archer had been. So had Dillian. So, too, had he, as Venturus, been alone in his great marble temple. Shine had people with her, but they were minions. And Erskine’s people in yellow coveralls were minions, too. The only one of them who had proper company was Hathaway, and he had to live in the past to have it. What a strange family they were, all sitting alone, all spying on one another, as if that were the only kind of company most of them knew. Thinking this, Howard began to wonder if his real reason for being a baby twice had much to do with the spaceship at all. It could well be simple loneliness. And he began to suspect what might be wrong with Torquil.
He went up to Torquil and coughed. Torquil looked up. Howard saw him hoist a look of joking superiority onto his face. “If it isn’t limpet boy Sykes again!” he said. “Or is bad penny or yesterday’s chewing gum a better name? Go away. I want to be alone.”
“I’ve come about Fifi,” said Howard.
Torquil put his elbows on the knees of his priestly robes. He sighed. “Archer wants her back, I suppose. Tell him I haven’t let Shine at her, but he can’t have her.”
“Why? Are you using her to help you take over the world?” said Howard.
“I don’t want to take over the world!” Torquil said irritably, much to Howard’s surprise. “I don’t see why Archer should either.” He stared dolefully into distance and said, as if he had forgotten Howard was there, “I wish I knew what I did want. Nothing seems fun anymore.”
“But you told Mum you wanted America,” Howard said suspiciously.
Torquil noticed him again. “Of course I did,” he said. “I wasn’t going to let the others know I was looking for a way to stop them. What was I supposed to do? Go on bended knees to your parents and say, ‘Pretty please help me play a dirty trick on the rest of my family’? I’ve got some loyalty.”
Howard chuckled. “It might have done more good with Dad. Have you ever thought why you called me limpet boy?”
“I did a good job keeping him obstinate,” Torquil said. “And I’ve got Fifi. But I can’t for the life of me think where to go from there. What did you say? I called you that for grabbing sleeves in grubby hands, of course.”
“No, you didn’t,” said Howard. He pushed his fringe out of the way.
“Headache?” inquired Torquil, not at all sympathetically. He stared. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and he shot to his feet, towering over Howard in his black and white robes. Howard found it hard not to back away. Torquil was the most unpredictable one in the family. “Great Scott!” said Torquil. “You’re Venturus! And you’re a foul little beast! It’s you keeping us here, isn’t it?”
He seemed to be hovering between rage and laughter in a way that was even more unpredictable than usual. Howard did not quite know what to say next. He was quite glad when Awful suddenly appeared at his elbow, having escaped from Erskine somehow. “You helped rescue us from Shine, didn’t you?” Awful said to Torquil. “I saw you wink.”
“Paint got in my eye,” Torquil said haughtily. “I see you’ve got a limpet of your own now,” he said to Howard.
“I’m not a limpet. I’m Awful,” said Awful.
“I shouldn’t admit it if I were you,” said Torquil.
Awful laughed. “He’s funny,” she said to Howard. “And he’s nice underneath. Erskine told me to tell you if I thought he was.”
Torquil put his hands on his hips. “Erskine?” he said. There was a moment when Howard thought he was going to tower into a rage as bad as Archer’s. Then Torquil laughed and relaxed. “All right, Erskine!” he called. “You can come out now!” He watched in a resigned way as the metal gate clicked and Erskine, at his most sheepish and Goonlike, came sliding around it into the chapel. Torquil began to laugh helplessly. “Erskine! You should just see yourself! What a look!” He pointed at Howard, still laughing. “And look at this! Limpet! I must have known deep down, Erskine. Wherever we went, it always used to come trotting along. Clung like a limpet! But he took care to have his face bashed up the first time I saw him and appear in the half dark the second time.” Before Howard could protest that both those things had been accidents, Torquil had sobered up. He folded his arms and looked at Erskine. “What’s it all about?”
“Where’s Fifi?” said Erskine.
“In the crypt,” said Torquil. “And Archer’s not having her.”
“Need her,” Erskine explained. “Help to get rid of Archer.” Torquil stared. “Shine and Dillian, too,” he added placatingly.
Torquil looked around all three of them. “But my dear children!” he exclaimed. “Those three are fixtures! I’ve been trying to get rid of them for years, and it’s like trying to move the sun and the moon and a rather fat star!”
“Thought you had been,” Erskine said, satisfied. He did not quite look at Howard, but Howard knew he wanted him to know that he had been misjudging Torquil for many, many years.
“We’re going to try to send them off in my spaceship tonight,” Howard said. “Do you want to help?”
“Want to help!” Torquil was so delighted that he hitched up his robes and danced around the chapel. Then he let go of his robes, still dancing, and flung up his arms. The cathedral organ burst into sound and thundered out “Here Comes the Bride,” louder even than the television at home. Torquil picked up Awful and swung her around as he danced. “Get rid of Shine! Get rid of Archer! Get rid of Dillian, and everything is fine!” he sang to the tune. Awful was laughing when Torquil finally dumped her on the ground, with another of his quick changes of mood. The organ stopped. “This is going to take careful planning,” Torquil said. “Come to the vestry. It’s more comfortable there.”
He led them across the cathedral in great strides, with his robes rippling. Erskine followed, also in great strides. Howard and Awful followed, in a rapid procession, which the ladies doing the flowers watched disapprovingly, even though the procession looked more official now, with Torquil at the head of it. Torquil ushered them into the vestry, which was a great deal warmer and lighter than the chapel, a plain whitewashed room with cupboards at one end, and hung with black robes and white surplices for choirboys. Here Torquil sat on a damaged chair, Erskine doubled himself onto a worm-eaten pew, while Howard and Awful perched on leaking hassocks, and they discussed what to do.
It took longer than Howard hoped. He found he was thinking anxiously about Ginger before long. He hoped Ginger would be careful. No one had laid it on Shine not to hurt Ginger. This was during the first of their two long arguments after Awful had pointed out that Fifi would probably turn into an old woman when she went into the marble temple. Erskine, who was evidently feeling vicious about the whole thing, said, “Serve Archer right!” Howard said that was not fair on Fifi. Torquil said he did not think it was fair on Archer either. So that took planning for. And it all ended on a dubious note because no one knew if Howard’s powers were far enough advanced to do anything about it.
The second argument was over who was to tell the right lies to Shine and Dillian. Erskine insisted that the only person to do it was Hathaway. “Only one they won’t suspect,” he said. “Nothing in it for him.” Torquil refused to have anything to do with Hathaway. He went proud. He towered on his wobbly chair and said Hathaway had insulted him years ago and they had not been on speaking terms since. Erskine, in reply, went obstinate. There seemed to be a deadlock. Then Torquil haughtily consented to let them ask Hathaway, provided Torquil was not there when they did. Howard thought that would do, but Erskine went more obstinate still. Torquil, even more haughty, said very well, he would be in the room while they asked Hathaway, but he was not going to speak to him. Erskine stuck even at that. Torquil was to ask Hathaway himself, or nobody would. Torquil drew himself even taller and refused. Utterly.
This was hopeless! Howard sighed. “Oh, well, if you’re too proud—”
“I am not too proud!” Torquil cried, springing up indignantly. “I’ll show you!” He strode to the cupboard that filled one wall and flung it open. Inside, there were rows of priestly robes, but hanging among them were a great number of silken garments that did not look priestly at all. Howard recognized one as the Aladdin outfit, and then the Egyptian one, as Torquil rattled them along to leave bare wall. Luckily Torquil was too busy doing that to see the way Erskine turned and winked at Howard.
Awful went over and examined the garments admiringly. “You are vain, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re far too wicked to live in a church!”
This pleased Torquil. Though his face still had a proud, tense look, there was also a slight smile on it as he seized a bishop’s crozier from the corner of the room and pointed it at the wall. “Hathaway,” he said.
A square of the whitewashed wall cleared mistily, until it looked like a window. Beyond it Hathaway looked up from reading a book in his study. “Torquil!” he exclaimed. He was so delighted that he fairly shouted it. He threw his book down and jumped up, laughing. “Torquil, this is marvelous!”
The proud look on Torquil’s face wavered and broke up into a proper smile. “Hathaway,” he said, “I’m sorry.” He sounded as if he might be crying.
“Don’t be stupid. I was to blame,” said Hathaway. “Is something wrong? What’s the matter?”
“No, no.” Torquil wiped a hand hastily under his nose. “We’re getting rid of the three elder ones. We want your help.”
Hathaway picked his book up again in order to throw it in the air as he cheered. He was as delighted as Torquil had been, although, Howard soon gathered, it was the thought of getting rid of Dillian and Shine that pleased him most. His face took on a grin as evil as Awful’s as Torquil explained what they wanted him to say. “I’ll do it!” he said. “How shall I tell you the outcome? To you here?”
Erskine stepped up beside Torquil. “Make you free of drains,” he said. “Get me through a drain anywhere I am.”
“Ah! Here is the mastermind,” Hathaway said, laughing. “Erskine, how long have you worked for this?”
Awful began shouting that it was her turn to talk to Hathaway, so that Howard did not quite hear what Erskine answered. But he rather thought Erskine said, “Last thirteen years.” After that Awful got right into the cupboard and pressed her face against the windowlike piece of wall, where she talked eagerly until Hathaway stopped her. She came sulkily out and said to Howard, “He says it’s your turn now.”
“Did you know me?” Howard asked, crowding in beside Torquil. This had been puzzling him.
Hathaway nodded. “Not straightaway,” he said. “But when I learned you were adopted. Forgive me that I couldn’t say. I had given you one shock by telling you that, and it seemed laid on me not to give you another.”
“That was our parents,” Torquil said, “of honored memory.”
“Oh, forget that, Torquil!” said Hathaway. “Come visit me in the past when this is done!”
“I’d love to,” said Torquil, and wiped his hand under his nose again.
After that they all went down into the crypt to look at Fifi. The crypt was low and dark and vaulted in all directions. It was so cold there that as they went down the stone stairs, their breaths came out as steam.
“She’s quite warm,” Torquil said defensively. “I wrapped her in all the bishop’s robes.”
Fifi was peacefully sleeping on top of a flat stone tomb, tucked in cloth of gold and hand embroidery, with white and purple gowns heaped on top of that. She was perfectly warm. Howard and Awful felt her to make sure.
Erskine looked somberly down at her. “Won’t wake her after all,” he decided. “Don’t trust her not to tell Archer. Big bubble hanging over her with Archer in it.” He sighed, but he did not seem nearly as unhappy about it as Howard had expected.
“We could lay it on her to go to the ship,” Torquil suggested. “If we both do it, it should take.”
Erskine agreed. They stood beside Fifi, Torquil stretching out his crozier, Erskine with his hands on his hips. Their breaths rolled out in clouds, from the effort they were putting in. Nothing seemed to happen—or perhaps a faint silveriness seemed to grow out of the embroidered coverings and gather round Fifi’s head. Howard was not sure.
At length Erskine nodded. Torquil lowered his crozier and mopped his face with his priestly sleeve. “If that doesn’t take, it never will,” he said.
“Archer now,” said Erskine.
Back they went in procession to the vestry. The ladies had nearly finished doing the flowers by then. They had grown so used to the procession headed by Torquil passing them that they scarcely looked up this time. Inside the vestry Erskine heaved the worm-eaten pew over in front of the cupboard so that Archer would not see that they were with Torquil in the cathedral. He folded himself into it, and Awful and Howard sat beside him, Howard hastily plastering his fringe to his forehead with both hands, while Torquil stretched his crozier into the cupboard from one side. He snatched it out of sight again as soon as Archer appeared.
Archer was in his scoop, moodily eating a hamburger. Awful’s stomach gave a sharp rumble at the sight. “You took your time!” he said angrily. “Where is she?”
They need not to have bothered to be careful, Howard thought. Archer was too wrapped up in himself to notice where they were. “Sorry,” Howard said. “It took awhile because it turned out not to be Shine after all. Torquil and Venturus have got Fifi. We don’t know where she is at—”
“What!” Archer yelled. “Call me up to say you don’t know!” Sparks came spitting out of the wall at them.
“Stop! We know where she’s going to be!” Howard shouted. The Aladdin outfit was smoldering. The sparks stopped. Awful leaned forward and rubbed at burning places until they went out. “Venturus,” Howard said, “is going to carry Fifi off somewhere in his spaceship, but in order to do that, he’s got to bring it into the present. He’ll do that at nine o’clock tonight. If you go where he lives then—”
“I’ll go there now!” Archer said, angrily.
“No. He’s not there. You won’t be able to get in,” Howard said. It astonished him the way Archer did not recognize him. “And if Venturus sees you, he’ll do something else with Fifi. So go there just before nine—”
“You mean I’ve got to wait!” Archer hurled his hamburger at what was evidently his own screen. For a second they could see nothing but flames. But these flames were inside the wall somehow and did not seem to be hot.
Erskine pushed Howard aside and shouted, “Archer!”
The flames cleared away, showing Archer glowering at Erskine.
“Nine o’clock,” said Erskine. “Hide in the ship.”
Archer nodded. He even smiled a little. “All right. While I’m at it, I think I’ll take the ship myself. I fancy owning a spaceship. Is that all?”
They had not needed any of the explanations they had carefully thought up. “All but one thing,” said Erskine. “Sykes family found Fifi for you. Need rewarding. Thirty thousand pounds. Quentin Sykes hard up.”
Howard was ashamed of this part of the plan, and he hoped Archer would refuse. But Archer said cheerfully, “Fair enough. Let’s make that thirty-five.” He swung casually around in his seat and pressed buttons. Howard tried to console himself with the thought that Archer was after all a millionaire, and he would not need money in space. At this a dim memory came to him. Venturus had ordered gold bullion stored aboard the spaceship. He would in a way be paying Archer back. He was feeling better about it as Archer swung his chair back, saying in his pleasantest way, “There. Thirty-five thousand pounds. It’ll go through on Monday. Is that all now?”
“Yes,” said Erskine.
“Then get out of sight,” said Archer. “None of you are beauties.”
Torquil rapped his crozier on the back of the pew, and the wall became blank whitewashed stones again. “I think he might have thanked you,” he said. “He wasn’t to know you weren’t doing him a favor.”
“Never does thank people,” Erskine said as he heaved the pew away.
Yes, Howard thought, Quentin was right about Archer. He threw money about, and he never thanked people because he thought everything was his anyway.
“I’m starving!” Awful moaned. “Ginger’s mum only had cookies, and there isn’t even any borrowed food at home now.”
“We shall see about that at once,” said Torquil. “Just wait while I get out of my robes.” He pulled his cassock over his head and ducked out of it. Underneath he was wearing black priestly knee breeches and a black priestly shirt. “I might as well stay like this,” he said. He unhooked a black jacket with silk lapels from the cupboard and put that on.
“You need a top hat,” said Howard.
“I know, but they don’t suit me,” said Torquil. “Shall we go?”
The cathedral was dusky and empty. The ladies and the verger had gone. Torquil tapped the west door with his crozier, and it swung open to show the floodlights on, shining steadily and without sparks, and the blistered and battered digger standing at the bottom of the steps. “I refuse utterly to ride in that thing,” Torquil said.
“Refuse to ride in your hearse,” said Erskine. “Hate funerals.”
“Let’s walk,” Howard said hurriedly. “It’s no distance.”
They walked, through the blue dusk, until they came to the supermarket in Church Row that stayed open late on Saturdays. Torquil said to Howard and Awful, “Wait here for us.” The two of them stood and watched through the windows while Torquil and Erskine went into the shop. At the door Torquil raised his crozier. Instantly every soul in the supermarket froze, in whatever position he happened to be at that moment. Some of the positions looked rather uncomfortable. Torquil nodded at Erskine, and the two of them went around, gathering things off the shelves. Torquil did the gathering. Erskine held the things—a mighty armful by the end.
“You could do that,” Awful said thoughtfully. “Will you do it for me in a toyshop before Christmas?”
“No,” said Howard.
“Why?” said Awful.
“Shops are Torquil’s,” said Howard. But that was not the real reason. It was that glimpse of Awful coming up the steps into the future, when she had suddenly looked so like Shine. Erskine was right to say Awful was a chip off the old block. She was. And Howard was determined not to let her grow up a bad lot like the rest of them.
Inside the supermarket Torquil was coming sailing toward the door. Erskine, loaded as he was, put out a long leg and contrived to hook his boot around Torquil’s black silk ankle. Torquil looked back in surprise. Erskine nodded to the cash desk, where the check-out girl was frozen with one hand in the air. Torquil shrugged. He stretched out his crozier and tapped the girl’s outstretched palm with it. A large pink check appeared there. Erskine bent to look at it and nodded, and the two of them came on out of the shop. Behind them everyone came to life again. The check-out girl looked at the pink check in her hand, rather puzzled, and then put it away in her cash drawer.
“Honestly, Erskine,” Torquil was saying as they came out. “I don’t always forget to pay. I remember quite often. Howard, take some of this load off him. It’s making him grumpy.”
They all were carrying things before long. By the time they turned off the beautiful new surface of Upper Park Street down the passage of number 10 even Torquil was delicately carrying a frozen chicken which had slithered out of Erskine’s arms as he turned the corner. Howard had to balance his load on his knee, like Anne Moneypenny, to open the kitchen door.
Catriona and Quentin sprang up with cries of relief, and Catriona ran to hug Howard, load and all. Ginger Hind stood up, too, painfully, and took the cotton wool from his second black eye in order to grin at Howard. Behind the shouting and confusion, Howard heard Torquil say guiltily, “Woops!” and thump his crozier on the doorstep. The drums in the cellar stopped beating at last.
“Not you again!” Quentin said to Erskine. Then as Torquil, too, stooped under the door and came in, he said, “Good God!”
Torquil bowed to Quentin. He swept up to Catriona. “I apologize,” he said, and kissed her on both cheeks. Since Catriona was not the kind of lady this happened to much, she was flabbergasted and could not think what to say.
Erskine dumped his load of food on the table. “Come to say sorry,” he said. “Business meeting.” Then, in his usual way, he marched on through the house to Quentin’s study. Howard followed him there, and together they took a look at what Archer had done to the new red typewriter. “Seems good,” Erskine said. “Should work.”
Howard knew it was better than good. Archer, in his way, was a genius. Even as Venturus, Howard knew he would not have been able to fix that typewriter half as well.
“Everyone, as always, is welcome to help himself to all I own,” Quentin said, following them in, “but I’m still not clear this applies to Goons. Just what is going on now?”
Howard grinned at him fondly. Quentin might have his faults, but he had been right about Archer. He was right about the right things. “I need some more words from you, Dad,” he said. “And this time they have to be good.”