Really Weird Removals.com (8 page)

“Did Gary mention Luca?” Valentina’s blonde head and Camilla’s dark one are bent over the same book,
Tales of Beedle the Bard
.

“Not a word. I think he was too scared,” giggles Camilla.

I’m writing down everything that happened today. Each night I write in my diary, using a booklight I bought with my pocket money at the Eilean Bookshop.

I take my diary with me everywhere. One day I’ll show it to my dad, when the time is right. Surely he will have to forgive Uncle Alistair then, when he realises how great he is to Valentina and me, and the incredible things he’s showing us.

Dad will be well proud of my writing. He’ll see that I’m just like him, a born author.

Yes, it’s all going to work out, one day soon. 

The beach looks incredible under the scorching sun. It’s the last day of school. Finally!

Adil and I are sitting on the rocks, our grey uniform trousers rolled up to the knees, eating ice creams and looking at the bright blue sea.

A long summer is ahead of me, with games of shinty and football, books and more books, and, most of all, the RWR.

I wonder what’s next for us after the stone fairies. Uncle Alistair was brilliant with his portable fold in time. I’ve been thinking about where the fairies could have been sent. Maybe they reappeared in the middle
of some ancient battle, or they ended up in the Ice Age, or maybe in some futuristic megacity. The folds in time are also folds in space, so they could have wound up on the other side of the world. Maybe in the middle of Tokyo at rush hour, or among some lost tribe in the Amazon.

I wonder if fairies are all around us? And how many types of fairies are there? Because the stone fairies were very, very different from baby Ella. The magic world – or the world like it really is, not like it appears – is opening in front of me.

I know that Uncle Alistair said he would only take us along with him once, but then he did also say, “We’ll take it from there.” I’m sure that when the next case comes in, Valentina and I will convince him to let us be part of it.

I’m getting all sleepy and floppy and dozy in the bright warmth, when a shadow appears between me and the sun. I open one eye.

“Hey, Valentina. How’s things.” I close my eye again. Pink and yellow lights dance in front of my eyelids.

“
Hiya
,” whispers Adil, sitting up at once and sweeping a hand through his black hair, trying in vain to flatten it. He’s blushing. Well, I can’t see him blushing, but I
know
he is. In the last few weeks he’s been all tongue-tied and shy around Valentina. Very annoying.

“Yes, hi. Luca, come with me. Need to speak to you.”

“But…”

“Come on, chop chop! Stuff to do! Stuff to
discuss!
Uncle Alistair sort of stuff
…” she whispers dramatically. She has her Bossy Voice on. No point in resisting.

“Ok, ok.” I get up, dizzy from the sun. We can’t talk in front of Adil, obviously. It feels very strange to keep secrets from my best friend. He and I have been inseparable since nursery, and we know everything about each other. We
knew
everything about each other. Not anymore. A million times I nearly told him about the RWR – but then I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m too worried he won’t believe me. After all, he doesn’t have the Sight; he can’t see anything of what we see. Also Adil can’t lie to save his life. He’s completely
unable
to tell a lie, even a wee white one. If he knew about us and he was asked, he’d probably blurt it out. And we can’t afford for my mum and dad to find out, not until Dad forgives Uncle Alistair. We have to keep pretending it’s just a pest control business.

“To the beach, Luca. Bye Adil!” Valentina is already dragging me down to the sand. Her head bobs up and down as she walks on, purposefully.

“Bye, Valentina,” calls Adil. “Bye then… Bye. Bye!” He’d keep going, if Valentina hadn’t turned her back on him already. Embarrassing. I really don’t understand what this is about. I can’t picture myself going red and mumbling around girls. Anyway, each to their own.

“I’ve just been to see Donald, to thank him for the
octopus
,” Valentina whispers conspiratorially as we walk towards the waterline. “He said that Uncle Alistair has been up to his boat a few times. He bought
a lot
of fish,
and… oh–”

Valentina’s phone is making a strange noise. A horrible tune, something between a song, a grunt and a screech. She takes it out of her pocket and starts pressing buttons.

“What was that?”

“A message from Uncle Alistair. Change of plan! He wants to see us. Come on!” She makes a sharp 180-degree turn, and I follow, biting the last remains of my ice-cream cone as quick as I can.

The phone makes that horrible noise again.

“What on earth is that sound?”

“Another message.”

“But that weird noise!”

“Oh, that. It’s a singing troll. There was a podcast on the net – on, you know, that site Uncle Alistair is putting together, the
Paranormal Database
. Cool, isn’t it?”

“A
singing
troll?”

“Yep. Anyway, Uncle Alistair says to pack our bags, we’re going to Edinburgh.” She waves her phone. “Awesome! I knew he’d want us with him again!”

“If Mum and Dad let us…”

“They will, they will. I’m sure he’ll find a good excuse.”

“I suppose.” We step onto the boardwalk, making our way briskly towards Uncle Alistair’s. I’m looking forward to our next adventure, but I leave the sunny beach with a bit of regret.

“So, what did you think of that strange stuff he had in his kitchen? In his… lab-kitchen,” I ask Valentina. “The helmet with the horns, and the shield… and all
those bottles.”

“No idea. But…” Valentina pauses.

“But what?”

“Remember when he had snow on his head and ice up his nose? And the furs?”

“Yes. He’s so up to something.”

“Shall we ask him?”

“He’ll just make up more daft stories. I don’t think he wants to talk about it. Maybe we can try and ask Camilla.”

“Ask Camilla what?” Camilla is suddenly floating beside us.

“Hey, welcome back! Where have you been? I missed you!” exclaims Valentina, throwing her arms around Camilla and going right through her.

“Just a floatabout. I went to sea and spent some time with the dolphins – it’s great out there…”

I notice that Mrs Armstrong is standing on the doorstep of her hairdresser’s shop, looking at us
wide-eyed
. She’s seen Valentina hugging the air and talking to nobody. Well, nobody she can see.

“Valentina!” I whisper, elbowing her and signalling towards Mrs Armstrong, subtly (I hope).

“Welcome back, Luca! I didn’t see you all morning!” Valentina tries to recover. We hug awkwardly. Camilla giggles, and Mrs Armstrong keeps staring at us, bewildered.

We hurry away, and let ourselves into Uncle Alistair’s house, now known as “Weird HQ”. The sign on the door says:

It’s a bit of a flimsy cover, more for my mum and dad’s benefit than anything else. We’re all over the internet, especially now Uncle Alistair has updated our website. Type “Really Weird Removals Company” into Google and you’ll quickly see exactly what we do, although there’s no mention of me or Valentina. Thankfully, Mum and Dad are completely allergic to technology. My dad actually writes letters to his agent and publishers, I mean
real
letters, stamps and all. He refuses to own a mobile; he uses the home phone. And my mum says that technology is bad for you, because of all the electromagnetic waves.

Sooner or later, though, they’ll find out…

“Anyway, Camilla, what we meant to ask you was, those bottles–”

A loud bang, coming from inside, interrupts us.

And an even louder “OUCH!”

“Uncle Alistair! Are you ok?” We run through, only to bump into a very wet, very slimy uncle.

“Blooming big lizards!” he’s muttering under his breath, trying to wipe the light-brownish slime off his t-shirt.

“Eurgh! What’s that?” I squirm.

“What? Oh, this?” he lifts a hand, a trail of slime joining his fingers to the shirt. “It’s jelly. I was making jelly.”

“Jelly? That colour?” Valentina stifles a smile.

“It’s… mustard jelly.”

“Right.” We exchange a look.

“Mmmm… tasty!” he licks his finger and winces. “Lovely!”

He’s in summer mode, with faded blue shorts and a bright yellow shirt. He looks very tanned. Awfully tanned, for someone who’s always indoors working. His nose is actually peeling.

“Are you sunburnt, Uncle Alistair?”

“Am I? Oh yes, a bit. Lovely sunny day!”

“How did you get sunburnt? You’re always in here. I’ve never seen you on the beach.”

“I went yesterday, you know, to get a tan. It works wonders for your looks.” He glances away.

“You’re worried about your
looks
?” Valentina laughs.

“YEAH WELL WE GOT AN EMAIL!” Uncle Alistair booms, all in one breath. He’s holding a piece of paper. “Read this.” He hands me the sheet.

I suppose we’re not to know how he got that weird slime all over himself. It’s not jelly, that’s for sure. Or how he got so sunburnt. Another Alistair mystery.

I read the printout aloud.

“Cool!” interrupts Valentina. “A
creature
!”

(Sharp intake of breath from Valentina and Camilla.)

“It’ll be them for sure!” exclaims Valentina, darkly.

“So. What do you think? That, to me, sounds like a troll.” Uncle Alistair is very cheerful.

“Yes, to me too,” says Valentina knowledgeably.

“We better hurry, it sounds bad,” I add, just to make sure that Uncle Alistair intends to take us too.

“Very bad, actually, that troll must be starving, feeding only on mice and birds! We need to take it somewhere it can find bigger prey.” Valentina has her priorities right.

“I was thinking more of the human beings!” I laugh.

“Can we leave tonight, Uncle Alistair? asks Valentina.

“Mmmm… well… might rain… homework. ’Nother time,” he mumbles.

“What? Rain? Homework? What are you talking about?” asks Valentina.

“It might rain. And you have homework.”

“We live in Scotland! We don’t mind a bit of rain! And we’ll keep up with homework,” Valentina exclaims. But I know that rain and homework are not what’s worrying Uncle Alistair.

“Do you not want us with you, this time?” I ask, gloomily.

“It’s not that. I do want you with me. It’s… trolls can be funny business. You know, eating human meat and all that. I just don’t want you turned into sausages.”

“But you
need
us! And I know you can keep us safe!” Valentina puts a hand on Uncle Alistair’s arm. Their eyes meet.

“Can I? You sure?”

“Positive. You always know what to do. You’ll return us in one piece.”

“One big meatloaf, yes,” I can’t help saying.

Uncle Alistair looks out of the window for a while. All you can see from the living-room window of Weird HQ is a lamp-post and a tiny dry-cleaners. He stares wistfully at the yellow sign –
Eilean Wash N’ Iron Services
– and then he turns around.

“Yes.”

“Yes… as in we can come with you?”

“You can. And I’ll keep you safe.” He wants us with him again! Result!

“Of course you will!” cries Valentina.

I’m a bit more cautious. There’s another obstacle ahead.

“Will you convince Mum and Dad to let us go?”

“I’ll speak to them. Come on.” He strides out of the place, and we hurry after him. Uncle Alistair has very long legs. When he walks fast, we need to run if we want to keep up. Maybe this is the right time to try and find out about what he’s been doing.

“Uncle Alistair,” I call, trying to keep up with his pace, “why are you buying tons of fish?”

“How do you know?” He stops suddenly and we
bump into his back.