of books on the returns trolley that might be what you need. Mr Watkins brought them back yesterday.’ She gestured towards a chunky wooden shelf on wheels, piled high with books of all sizes.
‘Thanks,’ said Lucy. ‘We might get our project done now! Hey, over here, guys!’ She called to the others, and raced for the trolley. ‘Two books in here somewhere,’ she said when they’d gathered round. ‘Watkins dropped them off yesterday.’
Chloe found one first. ‘There!’ She pointed to a hefty hardback. ‘
The Black Seam: Mining Stories
. That must be one.’ She pulled it out. ‘Nearly nine hundred pages, Itch,’ she said, flicking to the end. ‘Here – you have it.’ The others scoured the trolley’s shelves, but couldn’t see any more mining books.
‘It’s getting late, you guys,’ said Lucy, ‘and I need to cycle home. Let’s get this one for now and try again tomorrow.’ She took the book to the librarian, who stamped it and smiled.
‘Looks like it’s going to be a big project!’ she said.
‘’Fraid so,’ said Lucy, and they all filed out onto the street.
‘I’ll take it,’ said Itch. ‘You can’t ride home with that in your bag. You’ll never get up the hills.’
‘OK. Thanks, Itch. See you guys tomorrow!’
They watched as Lucy cycled off into the gloom. ‘Say hi to your mum,’ called Chloe, and Lucy waved in acknowledgement.
‘You really going to read that?’ said Jack as they walked home.
‘Sure,’ said Itch. ‘Suppose I should finish
The Great Gatsby
for the Brigadier first . . .’
‘Which you haven’t started,’ said Chloe.
‘I’ve looked at the cover,’ protested Itch.
Itch wasn’t sure what had woken him. It had, as usual, taken him a long time to get to sleep – his brain refusing to shut down the way everyone else’s did – but his clock said 3.10 a.m.
Way too early. He listened to the sound of the house. He could hear the pipes and radiators starting to warm and the creaking sounds that had alarmed Chloe when they had first moved into the house. While they had the MI5 team next door, he had slept well, knowing that he and his sister were being watched, being protected. Now they were gone and he found himself analysing every sound for danger.
His mind raced. The 126 was gone, but Flowerdew wasn’t. He was out there somewhere, and Itch was sure he would hear from him again . . . But, Itch reasoned, the injuries he had sustained – the burns in the Fitzherbert School fire and the blows to the head at the ISIS labs – would put him out of action for some considerable time. Whatever noises the house was making, he was sure it wasn’t related to his old science teacher.
Itch got up and stood on the landing. All the lights were off apart from a faint glow from Chloe’s nightlight. He put his head round her door – she was fast asleep, of course, her breathing deep and steady. He walked silently back to his room and put on his light. He sat on his bed and picked up his copy of
The Great Gatsby
; he had managed three chapters last night. In fact, now he thought of it, it was this that had finally brought on sleep. Maybe it would work again, he thought; he found his place and started to read.
But he was bored within a page and thought about sending Jack or Lucy a message on Facebook to see if they were up. He opened his laptop and checked his inbox – and to his surprise Lucy had left him a message.
Thanks for taking Mining Tales! Bring to school if you can bear it, and we’ll check it at lunch. Lx
He reached for his rucksack and pulled out the library book.
I should at least have started it
, he thought and, propping himself up with his pillows, began to read.
It was divided into counties, each section giving a short history of local mining, together with ancient photos and eyewitness accounts of life in and around the pit. Itch found the chapter on Cornwall and immediately recognized some of the photos. They were of the mines at
‘Thanks,’ said Lucy. ‘We might get our project done now! Hey, over here, guys!’ She called to the others, and raced for the trolley. ‘Two books in here somewhere,’ she said when they’d gathered round. ‘Watkins dropped them off yesterday.’
Chloe found one first. ‘There!’ She pointed to a hefty hardback. ‘
The Black Seam: Mining Stories
. That must be one.’ She pulled it out. ‘Nearly nine hundred pages, Itch,’ she said, flicking to the end. ‘Here – you have it.’ The others scoured the trolley’s shelves, but couldn’t see any more mining books.
‘It’s getting late, you guys,’ said Lucy, ‘and I need to cycle home. Let’s get this one for now and try again tomorrow.’ She took the book to the librarian, who stamped it and smiled.
‘Looks like it’s going to be a big project!’ she said.
‘’Fraid so,’ said Lucy, and they all filed out onto the street.
‘I’ll take it,’ said Itch. ‘You can’t ride home with that in your bag. You’ll never get up the hills.’
‘OK. Thanks, Itch. See you guys tomorrow!’
They watched as Lucy cycled off into the gloom. ‘Say hi to your mum,’ called Chloe, and Lucy waved in acknowledgement.
‘You really going to read that?’ said Jack as they walked home.
‘Sure,’ said Itch. ‘Suppose I should finish
The Great Gatsby
for the Brigadier first . . .’
‘Which you haven’t started,’ said Chloe.
‘I’ve looked at the cover,’ protested Itch.
Itch wasn’t sure what had woken him. It had, as usual, taken him a long time to get to sleep – his brain refusing to shut down the way everyone else’s did – but his clock said 3.10 a.m.
Way too early. He listened to the sound of the house. He could hear the pipes and radiators starting to warm and the creaking sounds that had alarmed Chloe when they had first moved into the house. While they had the MI5 team next door, he had slept well, knowing that he and his sister were being watched, being protected. Now they were gone and he found himself analysing every sound for danger.
His mind raced. The 126 was gone, but Flowerdew wasn’t. He was out there somewhere, and Itch was sure he would hear from him again . . . But, Itch reasoned, the injuries he had sustained – the burns in the Fitzherbert School fire and the blows to the head at the ISIS labs – would put him out of action for some considerable time. Whatever noises the house was making, he was sure it wasn’t related to his old science teacher.
Itch got up and stood on the landing. All the lights were off apart from a faint glow from Chloe’s nightlight. He put his head round her door – she was fast asleep, of course, her breathing deep and steady. He walked silently back to his room and put on his light. He sat on his bed and picked up his copy of
The Great Gatsby
; he had managed three chapters last night. In fact, now he thought of it, it was this that had finally brought on sleep. Maybe it would work again, he thought; he found his place and started to read.
But he was bored within a page and thought about sending Jack or Lucy a message on Facebook to see if they were up. He opened his laptop and checked his inbox – and to his surprise Lucy had left him a message.
Thanks for taking Mining Tales! Bring to school if you can bear it, and we’ll check it at lunch. Lx
He reached for his rucksack and pulled out the library book.
I should at least have started it
, he thought and, propping himself up with his pillows, began to read.
It was divided into counties, each section giving a short history of local mining, together with ancient photos and eyewitness accounts of life in and around the pit. Itch found the chapter on Cornwall and immediately recognized some of the photos. They were of the mines at
Similar Books
