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“We had a bit of a row,” she said. “When Simon was about five. He went off in a temper, decided he was going to travel the world.”
    â€œA row?” said Cat. “What about?”
    â€œNothing you need to worry about,” said Florence briskly. She stood up. “Right, it’s late. You need to get to bed, and so do I. The sword can go back down in the cellar, since it’s been there safely all this time. Come on – upstairs. No arguments.”
    Simon knew better than to object, but he caught Cat’s eye, and she nodded slightly. Much later, when Florence had turned off her light, Cat came padding up to Simon’s attic room in her dressing-gown and slippers, and settled down on the end of his bed.
    â€œWe need to talk,” she said. “Something odd’s going on.”
    â€œI know,” said Simon. “Mum was being weird. How can this sword be Dad’s ? And how come we’d completely forgotten Uncle Lou?”
    Cat wrinkled up her nose, thinking hard.
    â€œNo idea. I suppose it’s possible I just got used to him not being there and forgot about him, but – I don’t know – 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 didn’t come round any more.” She frowned. “And then there’s the sword. Mum didn’t leave it there, you were right.”
    â€œDo you think Uncle Lou had anything to do with it?” said Simon.
    â€œWhat, like he sneaked in and left it on the stairs?” said Cat doubtfully.
    They looked at each other. It wasn’t 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 wasn’t a very comforting idea either.
    â€œCould he have anything to do with those people in suits?” said Simon. “The radiation people – Smith and Jones. Could one of those have been…?”
    â€œUncle Lou?” said Cat, sounding shocked. “No 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.” She chewed her thumbnail, deep in thought. “The sword,” she said, tentatively. “How come it felt so strange?”
    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.
    â€œI thought it felt a bit like this,” he said, and held out the object to Cat. “I was going to show you once I’d got it open, but – well, maybe you’d better have a look now.”
    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.
    â€œYou’re right!” she said. “It’s just like the sword, all prickly and electric.” She looked accusingly at Simon. “Where did it come from? When did you find it? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œI found it under the floor just by my bed, a few days ago,” he said. “A 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 – I just wanted to see if I could open it first.”
    Cat tried to lift the lid of the box, getting her fingernails under and pulling from different sides. But although there