Emily's Penny Dreadful (8 page)

  “
Pity,” said
Sibbie.

  “
She has to escape,”
Emily said. “Only I haven’t thought of a way for her to escape
yet.”

  “
Maybe she could
find something like a jet pack and fly away,” suggested
Sibbie.

  “
They don’t have jet
packs in Miley’s time,” said Emily.

  “
Oh, right. I didn’t
know the story was set in the olden days,” said Sibbie. “That’s
going to be a problem then, isn’t it, no jet packs or mobiles or
any useful stuff like that? Have you asked Uncle Raymond for
ideas?”

  “
His computer screen
was blank the last time I looked,” said Emily. “I don’t think he’s
got a single idea left.”

Chapter Nine

With yet another week gone, Emily realized
that

Sibbie had been right. The longer he and
Auntie Dot stayed with Emily and her family, the grumpier Uncle
Raymond became. The longer they stayed, the grumpier Emily became,
too.

 
What if the piece of
string turned out to be endless?

 
Emily badly wanted
her room back so she could write her stories in peace, just like
she had before, but she wasn’t allowed to have it.

 
She was also getting
desperate to finish her latest, dreadful, story but she couldn’t
figure out how on earth Miley could escape.

 
Her mind had gone
blank.

 
She had run out of
ideas.

 
She recalled
Sibbie’s suggestion and so she took the plunge and went to ask
Uncle Raymond for advice.

*

“
Will you help me finish
the story I’m writing? It’s a dreadful one, like yours. I mean,
like the one in your Penny Dreadful.”

 
Uncle Raymond looked
at her over his glasses. Emily

had never seen Uncle Raymond with glasses
before.

  “
No,” he
said.

  “
Why
not?”

  “
Because I’m far too
busy.”

  “
With your own
story?” Emily asked doubtfully.

  “
Precisely.”

  “
Where is it? Your
computer isn’t even switched on today.”

  “
As we discussed
previously, it’s being worked on in my head.”

 
Emily looked at him.
At Uncle Raymond taking up space in her room. Sitting on her (now
very creaky) chair. At her (probably soon to be wobbly) table. Just
lounging there, doing nothing. It made her feel grumpier than
ever.

  “
I don’t believe
you,” she said.

 
Uncle Raymond
sniffed.

  “
That’s no skin off
my nose,” he said.

“
Do you have an Achilles
Heel?” Emily asked abruptly, taking Uncle Raymond by
surprise.

  “
Where did you hear
that phrase?”

  “
I love reading
stories about Ancient Greek heroes,”

said Emily. “Achilles is one of my
favourites. I felt so

sorry for him when he got killed.”

  “
Well, I’m not an
Ancient Greek hero,” said Uncle Raymond. “In fact, I am no sort of
hero at all.”

  “
So you don’t have
one,” said Emily.

  “
One
what?”

  “
An Achilles Heel. A
weak spot. The spot where a poisoned arrow might kill
you.”

  “
We all have our
point of weakness,” said Uncle Raymond. “More than one, no doubt.
But I’m not telling you what mine is. Why do you want to know? Are
you contemplating shooting me in my weak spot with a poisoned
arrow?”

  “
Maybe,” said Emily.
“So will you help me with an idea for my dreadful story?” she asked
again. “Or not?”

 
Uncle Raymond shook
his head.

  “
Then that’s
probably your Achilles Heel,” Emily decided. “The fact that you’ve
run out of ideas.”

 
Uncle Raymond
nodded. “You and I, it seems, are currently in the same boat.
Suffering from writer’s block.”

  “
Is that like a
blocked drain?” said Emily. “When the

plughole gets gunk in it and the water can’t
get out?”

   “
That’s not a
bad metaphor,” said Uncle Raymond grudgingly. “Except, with
writers’ block, no ideas manage to get in. Now go away, Emily.
Leave me in peace. Not in pieces.”

  “
If you can have
more than one Achilles Heel,” said Emily, standing her ground,
“then your glasses are another weak spot.”

 
Uncle Raymond raised
his eyebrows like question marks. “How so?” he asked.

  “
Well, you must
need
them but you don’t wear them. Not that I’ve ever
seen. Not until today. Gran needed glasses but she didn’t like
wearing them. Mum said Gran was rather vain. Gran thought glasses
spoilt the way she looked.”

  “
Did she,” said
Uncle Raymond.

“
So you have at least two
weak spots,” Emily finished. “You don’t have any ideas anymore and
you’re rather vain. Maybe you’re an Ancient Greek hero after
all.”

 
And then she left
Uncle Raymond in peace.

 
Or in
pieces.

Chapter 15

?

Chapter Ten

“
How much longer is Uncle
Raymond going to be here?” Emily asked her mother. “And Auntie
Dot?”

  “
If you’ve asked me
that question once, you’ve asked me a hundred times,” said Mum. “As
long as they want. As long as they need. It takes time to build a
new house.”

  “
Why can’t they go
and stay with someone else? They don’t even normally live in the
same town as us.”

  “
Well, they’ve
pretty much decided to shift up here,” said Mum, “so they can be
closer to us all the time. Cheaper to build here, too,
apparently.”

  “
Why do they want to
be closer to us?”

“
Why not?” said Mum. “Isn’t
it nice to have family around?”

  “
I guess so,” said
Emily. “But Uncle Raymond . . . he’s so grumpy most of the
time.”

  “
You seem to have
had lots of conversations with Uncle Raymond since he and Auntie
Dot arrived.”

“
Yes, but sometimes that’s
because Sibbie gets tired of talking to me,” said Emily. “And Uncle
Raymond’s

a writer as well - well, he
used to be - so he could help me if he wanted to, except he
doesn’t. He just sits around in my room. He doesn’t mind if I talk
to him. Well, he doesn’t always
not
mind. Sometimes he does mind. A lot. Actually, I
think
I
might be
getting tired of talking to him. The other day I asked him to help
me with my story because I’m stuck but he wouldn’t. And, one time
before that, he made me disappear. I would have laughed if he’d
meant it to be funny but he didn’t. He just wanted me to go. Why
did he turn out so grumpy,” she said, “when you’re hardly ever
grumpy at all?”

  “
When he’s thinking
about his next book his mind goes off to some other place,” said
Mum. “It’s hard to come back to earth after living in your
imagination.”

  “
Is it like going to
another planet?” said Emily.

  “
I’ve never been to
another planet,” said Mum, “but I suppose it is.”

  “
I’ve been to
another planet,” said Emily. “In my imagination. So I know what
it’s like.”

  “
Hard to come back
from?”

“
Very hard,” said Emily.
“Unless you have a space ship with warp speed. Then it’s
faster.”

  “
Raymond’s space
ship is more of an old-fashioned

sort, I think,” said Mum. “It travels
slowly.”

  “
I think Uncle
Raymond’s grumpy because he’s sad as well,” said Emily. “Not just
because he’s on another planet.”

 
Mum stopped what she
was doing. “What makes you think that?”

  “
He makes faces,”
said Emily. “Mostly they’re grumpy faces, but sometimes they’re sad
faces. He doesn’t think I notice, but I do.”

  “
Well, he is still
sad, of course,” said Mum.

  “
Sad about his house
burning down?” asked Emily. “Or sad about not writing anymore?
Or.  . .”

“
Both of those things,”
said Mum. “But I thought he was writing again.  Now that he’s
got his new computer.”

 
Emily shook her
head. “I looked at it,” she said. “The screen’s always empty. Or
it’s turned off. Uncle Raymond said he was writing the story in his
head first . . . “

  “
That makes sense,”
said Mum.

 
Emily shook her head again. “ . . . but he
still
hasn’t written
down a single word. And he wouldn’t help me

at all
with my story.”

  “
Hmm,” said
Mum.

  “
You sound like Uncle Raymond,” said Emily. “He
hmms
. So does
Sibbie.”

  “
Well, he’s my
brother, after all,” said Mum.

  “
What was he like,
when he was little? You and Dad said I’m not like him, but was he
like me when he was my age?”

  “
Definitely not,’
said Mum. “He was quiet. He didn’t like sport much, although he was
a good walker. I used to feel a bit sorry for him. I thought he was
missing out on the fun the rest of us kids were having. But he
never seemed to mind. He seemed happy enough doing what he was
doing. Reading and walking and watching.”

  “
Watching is what
writers have to do,’ Emily said. “Watch and listen and make
notes.”

  “
I guess that’s
true,” said Mum. “There’s another thing he’s sad about,” she added.
“He’s sad about Gran. Our Mum.”

  “
About Gran dying?”
Emily asked.

  “
Yes,” said
Mum.

“
I was sad about that,
too,” said Emily. “So was

Sibbie. We still are sad,
but not as sad as before, not all the time. Gran told us not to be
too sad when she was dead. She said we had to think about all the
nice times we had together. I wonder if she forgot to tell Uncle
Raymond that.”

  “
I’m sure she didn’t
forget,” said Mum. “And Gran was quite right. It’s important to
remember the nice times as well as the sad ones. That helps keep
everything balanced.”

  “
So is Uncle Raymond
unbalanced?” Emily asked.

  “
Not in the
slightest,” said Mum. “He’s just . . . well, I suppose he’s just
taking longer to remember the nice bits.”

  “
Should I remind
him?” said Emily.

  “
I guess you could
try,” said Mum.

  “
He was wearing his
glasses today. I didn’t know he wore glasses.”

  “
Yes, he does,” said
Mum.

  “
Like Gran
did?”

  “
Yes. You could
remind him how much he and Gran had in common. Mention the glasses.
That might be a nice thing for him to remember.”

  “
I’ve already tried
that,” said Emily. “But I don’t

think he liked it when I said that meant he
was rather vain.”

  “
Oh,” said Mum. “No,
I don’t imagine he would.”

  “
Even when it’s a weak spot and makes him like an Ancient
Greek hero, just like Achilles? He should have been happy
about
that
,” said
Emily.

Chapter 15

?

Miley woke Ned up.

  “
Not again!” said
Ned. “That’s the second night in a row. I’ll be useless for
counting matchsticks in the morning.”

“
You shouldn’t be counting
matchsticks,” said Miley in a whisper loud enough to be heard by
Ned but not loud enough to wake Athol and Charlie. She didn’t want
to frighten them. “None of us should. You should be back home with
you father, reading as many books as you want to read, and I should
be back home with my Mama and Papa and my dearest sister. Now I
wouldn’t even mind if my Uncle was there. Anything would be better
than this.”

  “
We’ve done our
best,” said Ned. “There no way out of here. We’ve been there and
done that already, Miley.”

Chapter Eleven

It was no good. Emily had to agree with Ned.
There was no way out of the match factory. No way at all.

 
Well, if she
couldn’t write an ending, she might as well go and try to cheer
Uncle Raymond up. Maybe she would have more luck with
that.

 
Maybe.

*

“
Uncle Raymond?”

  “
Hmm?”

  “
Are you writing
today?”

  “
In my
head.”

  “
You know what,
Uncle Raymond?”

  “
Hmm?”

  “
You sound just like
Mum?”

  “
Do I? In what way,
precisely?”

  “
The way you say
hmm
.”