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Chapter 1

Kirsty stumbled and fell towards the acid-green leaves. As they scratched her face she realised that they were exactly the same colour as the Amazonian poisonous frogs she had seen in the river earlier. She got back to her feet quickly. This was a dangerous place; deadly snakes hunted in the canopy above, jaguars padded through the undergrowth. She stepped forwards carefully so that the ginormous, man-eating beetles couldn’t gnaw her boots. One of her fellow explorers had lost his big toe that way only yesterday. Her stomach rumbled. She had been trekking for days and supplies were running low.

‘Can I eat some peas, Grandad?’ she shouted.

The thump, thump of her grandad’s shovel stopped.

‘Are you still there? I thought you’d gone home,’ said Grandad.

‘No. I’m just on an expedition. We’ve got no food. We might have to resort to cannibalism. So, can I eat some of the peas? Please, please?’ Her fingers came to rest on a thick pod right above her left shoulder. She grinned at Grandad, even though she couldn’t see him past the wigwam of leaves.

‘You’re worse than all the birds, slugs and snails put together. I’m amazed I ever have anything to take home from this allotment.’ Grandad started shovelling again. ‘Go on, then. I wouldn’t want you to have to eat any fellow explorers.’ Kirsty heard him chuckle.

The pod cracked open between her thumbs. Her tongue teased out each pea and guided it on to her back teeth. Then, crunch, her whole mouth flooded with sweetness. She settled down on to her back, looking up through the leaves at the summer-bright sky. Grandad was digging again. She could hear noises on the other plots too: the squeak of a wheelbarrow, the whistle of a kettle boiling on a gas stove, shouts and laughter as people gave each other advice. Everyone was here today, working on their little plot of land. They all grew fruit and vegetables to take home. But none of them did it as well as Grandad. She picked a wodge of chewed pea off her back tooth. If only she could eat Grandad’s peas every day! When she ruled the world it would always be summer and peas would grow all the time. And she wouldn’t have to share a room with Dawn every weekend, bossing everyone around just because she was the eldest.

Thinking about Dawn made her feel annoyed. She sat up quickly and the leaves scratched her face again. The expedition! She had almost forgotten! Kirsty clapped her hands. Her fellow explorers leapt to attention. She had managed to find them food, scavenged from the unwilling jungle. That would stop the whispers of mutiny. For now. She uncurled the ancient map of Hazdrubal and set a course south. She was either leading them to untold riches, or to certain death. Only time would tell which it was to be. With one hand holding her compass and the other clutching a knife, Kirsty hacked a path through the clinging vines.

‘Come on, pet.’ The shovelling had stopped. Grandad was just outside her pea wigwam.

‘It isn’t time to go,’ Kirsty said.

‘I’m afraid it is. I promised your dad I’d have you home early today. It’s the weekend. Ben and Dawn will be at your house soon. You never know, you might even have fun with your brother and sister.’

‘Half-sister,’ Kirsty muttered. Dad was Ben and Dawn’s dad too, but they had a different mum. Dad had been married to their mum once, but then he had married Kirsty’s mum. At weekends they came to Kirsty’s house. Ben was nice, but Dawn was a total pain. When she wasn’t there, Kirsty and Dad would do nice things together, like listen to Dad’s records or watch Kirsty’s DVDs, or even just rearrange their collections. But when Dawn was there, she moaned and yelled and spoiled everything.

Kirsty curled up inside the plants. It was a tight squeeze, though she knew that Grandad had planted them wide apart just so she could keep on using her den. She rested her head on the ground. It smelled of warm earth and the tang of leaves. A few weeds had grown up among the peas. She pulled one out of the ground, its silvery roots and all.

‘If you don’t come out, I’ll have to come in and get you!’ Grandad said.

Kirsty started giggling despite herself. She knew what was coming. Grandad was going to get her to move the way he always did – with lots of laughing and screaming. His hand reached in and grabbed her bare foot. His rough fingertips tickled and tickled her sole until she cried with laughter.

‘Stop it! Stop it!’ she yelled. Now there would be a twisting tug-of-war as she tried to break free. She yanked her leg. Grandad’s grip loosened. Her foot sprang back towards her. He had let go. Grandad had let go on the first tug! That wasn’t right. Kirsty frowned.

Cough, cough, cough.

It sounded like Grandad was coughing from some place deep, deep inside. It sounded like it hurt. Kirsty struggled out through the plants.

‘Grandad?’

He was bent over, coughing into his huge white handkerchief. At the sound of her voice, Grandad looked up. His eyes were all watery. ‘I’m fine, pet. Right as rain.’ But he struggled to get the words out.

Kirsty shivered, despite the sunlight.