Chapter Thirteen

The doorbell tinkled in a friendly fashion. It was easily a hundred years old. It suited the shop. It was part of its history. How many generations of customers had come tinkling through those doors over the years?

Before Harri’s mum had opened Merlin’s Cave, as well as being a chemist, the shop had been a cobbler’s, a printer’s and a video rental shop.

‘Come in,’ Imelda said quietly. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

The man closed the door gently and looked around. He’d not really noticed Merlin’s Cave before. It wasn’t the sort of shop he’d ever needed to visit. What did people buy in shops like this?

Imelda watched as the man picked things up, studied them and put them back down again.

Not many men came into the shop on their own, they were usually with their wives or girlfriends. They often looked out of place and a little uncomfortable being there.

There are two kinds of magic. The type you see on the TV — all show business and fluttering white doves, done by men in top hats and twirly moustaches — and then there is the other kind of magic — quiet magic, Earth magic, that is mostly women’s work.

‘You’re Ryan’s dad, aren’t you?’ Imelda asked.

‘And you must be Mrs Spelltravers,’ said Ryan’s dad. ‘Ryan’s told me all about you.’

Imelda held out her hand. ‘Call me Imelda.’

Ryan’s dad ignored the gesture and folded his arms. ‘I’ve come about a dragon.’ It was almost a whisper.

Imelda nodded. ‘I thought as much.’ Behind the heavy green velvet curtains that separated the shop from the storeroom and the rest of the house, something rustled.

‘I want one!’ Ryan’s dad growled. ‘I want a dragon.’

Imelda pointed to a couple of shelves where models of dragons were displayed. This was Wales, home of the dragon, and tourists loved buying dragons as souvenirs. Some of them had A Gift from St Gertrude’s printed on them.

Since the mayor had written his local history book, and had uncovered the legend of St Gertrude taming a dragon, a little model of a dragon encircling a beautiful woman had become their bestseller.

The model was meant to come as part of a set with St George on a white horse, but as he didn’t fit in the story, the manufacturers were happy to sell them on their own and change the words on the side from St George to St Gertrude and the Dragon. Tourists loved them.

Ryan’s dad looked at the shelves, tutted and shook his head. ‘I mean … I want a real dragon.’

The heavy green velvet curtain twitched.

They held each other’s gaze for a long time, assessing each other’s mental strength, both surprised at how good their opponent was at this game.

The curtains shook and quivered. A low growl filled the silence of the shop. Imelda and Ryan’s dad ignored it, still staring each other out.

Imelda was the first to look away. Something moved in the edge of her vision, attracting her attention. Something red and shiny.

It leaped into the air and hovered above the herbal remedies. Its leathery wings, cracking and flapping, whipped the air into a chilly draught. A tiny wisp of smoke trailed behind it.

The creature pulled back its head and opened its mouth wide. Its eyeballs slid back into their sockets, protecting them from the yellow, fiery jet of flame that roared from of its nostrils like a flame-thrower.

Ryan’s dad fell to the floor, covering his head with his arms.

Imelda ordered, ‘Tân! NO!’

Tân dropped onto the cash register, standing guard over the unwelcome visitor. A final wisp of smoke trailed into the air as he extinguished the fires in his belly.

‘Tân!’ Imelda spoke in a quiet, measured tone. ‘Leave us. Go back to your box right now. I can handle this.’

The little dragon hopped to the floor and shuffled backwards towards the storeroom. He never took his eye off the man until Imelda drew the curtains closed behind him.

‘I want a dragon!’ Ryan’s dad growled, heaving himself up off the floor. ‘I could have been scarred for life just now! I could have been killed by that — that — that — Tân! I want a dragon or else I’m going straight to the police, and you know what they’ll do, don’t you?’

Ryan’s dad bared his teeth in a smile. ‘Harri’s precious dragon will be put in a zoo, kept behind bars to keep the public safe. We can’t have dragons roaming around setting fire to everything, can we?’

Imelda was between a rock and a hard place. Harri would be heartbroken if Tân was taken away. It was all her fault. She should never have created Tân in the first place. Dragons were always trouble, one way or another.

Her eyes dropped to the floor. Imelda had just run out of choices.

‘I need a drawing of a dragon,’ she whispered. ‘Draw it yourself — it must be your dragon. Don’t come back here. I’ll come to you tomorrow at midday. Now go!’

The bell tinkled, its once friendly sound seeming hollow and shrill.

Ask not for whom the bell tolls, Imelda remembered the words of a poem. It tolls for thee.