Chapter 10

 

“There’s no way we can escape from here,” said Ned.

  “There has to be,” Miley replied, her chin in the air.   Ned waved his arm at the factory walls. “Do you think I haven’t tried finding a way out? Can you see a hidden doorway anywhere? And while you’re looking for something that doesn’t exist, you’d better start counting your matches, before she catches you

daydreaming.”

  Miley picked up a bundle of matches and started counting. She had to admit that Ned seemed right.

There didn’t appear to be any way out of the factory, other than the way she had come in, which meant going through the kitchen where Pork Pie was eating his breakfast, reading his newspaper and adding to his list of luscious words.  

Miley could picture that breakfast in her mind’s eye. Runny eggs, crispy sausages, oozy tomatoes, small tasty beans, singed toast, steaming tea . . . had she really seen all that or only imagined it? Whatever the truth of the matter, her tummy rumbled and her mouth

watered.

  Looking for an escape route and drooling over an imaginary breakfast, all the while trying to count matches, was not a good combination of activities. Miley had to start over several times before she could keep track of the number.

  “Where do you come from?” she asked Ned, once she had filled her first box.

  “From up the hill,” he said.

  “But that’s the poshest part of town,” said Miley. “I once went to a fancy fish restaurant there, with Mama and Papa and a rich relative. How did you end up working here?”

  “I was kidnapped,” said Ned.

  Miley almost dropped her next lot of matches in fright. “What!” she exclaimed. “That only ever happens in books.”

  “Huh!” said Ned. “That’s all you know. I was out for a walk with my faithful hound, Dulo, when I was set upon by ruffians. Dulo barked like a canine warrior

possessed. He tried to bite my assailants but they had

a carriage waiting and bundled me into it, spiriting me away.”

  “That’s dreadful,” said Miley. “Why?”

  “They were going to ransom me for a lot of money,” explained Ned. “What my kidnappers didn’t know was that my father’s business had gone up in flames just the week before.”

  “Up in flames!” exclaimed Miley in horror.

  “It was toast,” said Ned, which made Miley feel hungry all over again. “He had no money left in all the world.”

  “I know what that’s like,” said Miley. “I left all of mine in my Hippo Bank.”

  “Your what?”

  “My Hippo Bank. It’s exactly the same as a piggy

bank but in the shape of a hippopotamus.”

“Oh,” said Ned. “I see. I’ve never come across one of those. Well, anyway, because the police were on my trail and getting close, my kidnappers handed me over to the woman who runs this match factory.”

  “Bacon,” said Miley.

  “What?”

  “Bacon. That’s what I call her,” Miley explained. “She looks like a piece of bacon. He looks like a pork pie.”

  Ned giggled. “I suppose they do,” he said. “That’s

clever of you to see the similarities.”

  “I have ambitions to be a writer,” said Miley. “I’m glad my similes make you smile.”

  “Hmm,” said Ned. “Well, I’ll call them Bacon and Pork Pie from now on as well.”

  “I don’t mind sharing my ideas with you,” said Miley. “I have plenty of them.”

  “You’re very generous,” said Ned. “As well as clever. But I suppose you often get annoyed and suffer from brain-strain?”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Miley.

  “Only because my father says that brain-strain is a writer’s Achilles Heel.”

  “Is a what?” asked Miley.

  “An Achilles Heel. It’s a weak spot,” said Ned. “The sort of thing that causes a person’s downfall.”

  Miley rubbed her head. Her brain was quickly becoming befuddled by counting matches but she

didn’t think it had ever got strained by making up stories.  

  “Achilles was an Ancient Greek hero,” Ned went on.

  “I haven’t got up to Ancient Greek heroes in my

school reader yet,” Miley admitted.

“You won’t get a chance, not in this place,” said Ned, which made Miley even more determined to escape The Devil’s Element. She wasn’t going to miss out on Ancient Greek heroes just because of Bacon and Pork Pie.

  “Achilles shouldn’t have been able to be killed, since his mother dipped him into the river of immortality,” Ned continued. “Except she held him by his heel, which meant that that part of him never got wet, so he was vulnerable. He was shot in the heel by a poisonous arrow.”

  “What a wonderful story!” said Miley.

  “It is,” said Ned. “Except it wasn’t so wonderful for Achilles. I mean, there you are, thinking you’re going to live forever when, WHAM, you’re shot in the heel by a poisonous arrow. I love reading stories about Ancient Greek heroes but I’ll probably never read another book again, not as long as I live.”

  “You will,” said Miley. “I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Ned.  “Anyway, I was telling you what happened to me. After I was handed over to Bacon, the police lost track

of me. Now no one knows where I am.”

  “I know where you are,” said Miley.

  “That’s of no use to me, or the constabulary,” said Ned, “but I suppose you meant it kindly.”

  “Have I been kidnapped, too?” said Miley. “Bacon said I had to work for her and then I could go home.”

  “I reckon you’re here to stay,” said Ned. “Like the rest of us.”

  Miley wanted to cry but she managed to put on a brave face. “I’m not staying here,” she said. “There must be a way out. I’ll find it, no matter how long it takes. And I bet Bacon has an Achilles Heel.”

  “Those are brave words,” said Ned. “Just like the words of a Ancient Greek hero. Good luck, Miley. You’ll need it.”