âWe had a bit of a row,â she said. âWhen Simon was about five. He went off in a temper, decided he was going to travel the world.â
âA row?â said Cat. âWhat about?â
âNothing you need to worry about,â said Florence briskly. She stood up. âRight, itâs late. You need to get to bed, and so do I. The sword can go back down in the cellar, since itâs been there safely all this time. Come on â upstairs. No arguments.â
Simon knew better than to object, but he caught Catâs eye, and she nodded slightly. Much later, when Florence had turned off her light, Cat came padding up to Simonâs attic room in her dressing-gown and slippers, and settled down on the end of his bed.
âWe need to talk,â she said. âSomething oddâs going on.â
âI know,â said Simon. âMum was being weird. How can this sword be Dadâs ? And how come weâd completely forgotten Uncle Lou?â
Cat wrinkled up her nose, thinking hard.
âNo idea. I suppose itâs possible I just got used to him not being there and forgot about him, but â I donât know â that seems unlikely. I must have been seven when he went. He practically lived with us most of the time we were little. And then⦠he just didnât come round any more.â She frowned. âAnd then thereâs the sword. Mum didnât leave it there, you were right.â
âDo you think Uncle Lou had anything to do with it?â said Simon.
âWhat, like he sneaked in and left it on the stairs?â said Cat doubtfully.
They looked at each other. It wasnât a verycomforting idea, that someone could have broken into the house in the early morning and left a whacking great sword on the stairs. But otherwise, the sword had just appeared on its own, and that wasnât a very comforting idea either.
âCould he have anything to do with those people in suits?â said Simon. âThe radiation people â Smith and Jones. Could one of those have beenâ¦?â
âUncle Lou?â said Cat, sounding shocked. âNo way! They were creepy. He was never, ever, creepy! He was always joking and being an idiot. He was more like the other one. Albert Jemmet. But tall and thin.â She chewed her thumbnail, deep in thought. âThe sword,â she said, tentatively. âHow come it felt so strange?â
Simon was quiet for a moment, then he got out of bed and went across to his chest of drawers. He rummaged in his sock drawer, and then came back holding out a small wooden box.
âI thought it felt a bit like this,â he said, and held out the object to Cat. âI was going to show you once Iâd got it open, but â well, maybe youâd better have a look now.â
It was a narrow jewellery box of dark wood,with strange markings on the top. There were three deeply carved symbols, and just above them, a carving of what looked like a precious stone. It had been painted, once, but the paint was faded, and almost worn off. It was just possible to see that the stone had been coloured a deep orange-yellow, like a fiery sunset.
Cat took the box, and almost dropped it.
âYouâre right!â she said. âItâs just like the sword, all prickly and electric.â She looked accusingly at Simon. âWhere did it come from? When did you find it? Why didnât you tell me?â
âI found it under the floor just by my bed, a few days ago,â he said. âA bit of Lego went down a crack between the floorboards, and I was digging around trying to get hold of it when I realised one of the boards was loose. So I pulled it up to see if I could find the Lego piece, and the box was just there. I was going to tell you â I just wanted to see if I could open it first.â
Cat tried to lift the lid of the box, getting her fingernails under and pulling from different sides. But although there