Eight Days of Luke by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

David.
    â€œThen I’ll get you some jeans and things if you swear to change into the other clothes for meals,” Astrid said daringly.
    David swore to do it. It seemed a small price to pay. Since Trubitt’s was just across the road from the cafe, only half an hour later David was provided with clothes to suit him and clothes to suit Aunt Dot also. He and Luke, almost identically dressed, came galloping happily down the stairs from Trubitt’s top floor, carrying numerous parcels and laughing like conspirators. And Astrid, despite her broken toe, shooting pains and various heads, came galloping after them in high good humor, saying: “Oh, I do love secrets!”
    But, alas, the second floor of Trubitt’s had a doorway hung with roses and labeled Miss Ashbury . Astrid paused.
    â€œI say, you two,” she said, “do you mind being angels and waiting just five minutes?”
    David could hardly refuse. Luke, of course, said courteously: “Not at all, Mrs. Price.”
    They spent the next half hour staring out of one of the long windows at the cafe opposite, while Astrid hurried about with armfuls of dresses behind them, in and out of the changing rooms.
    â€œYou know,” David said to Luke, “you got her into too much of a good mood.”
    â€œI did, didn’t I?” Luke agreed, rather mournfully.
    â€œShe likes spending money,” David explained, and added, to cheer Luke up: “But I’m awfully grateful.”
    â€œYou’ve no need to be grateful,” Luke said, quite seriously for him. “None at all. You set me free, and it’s only right that I should do anything I can for you in return. Honestly.”
    â€œCome off it!” David said, but he said it very uncomfortably, because he was beginning to suspect that it might be true.
    Half an hour later still, they had decided that more fat people went into the cafe than thin ones; they had each scored two orange Minis; they had counted the windows in the office-block above the cafe and made them thirty-four each time; and Astrid had still not decided whether to buy six dresses or four dresses and a coat.
    â€œI’m sick of this,” said David. “I wish something interesting would happen.”
    â€œSuch as?” said Luke.
    â€œA robbery or a fire or something,” said David. “Anything we could look at. All that happens is people and cars.”
    â€œI could manage a fire for you,” said Luke. “Would you like it if that block with thirty-four windows were to catch fire?”
    â€œThat would be brilliant,” David said, laughing. “I just wish you could manage it.”
    â€œAll right,” Luke said quietly.
    David was still laughing, when it struck him that the air outside was oddly misty. The office-block was dim and he could hardly see the traffic. He looked up to see where the fog was coming from, but the sky was blue and clear. The fog was rising up against it, thin and black and hot-looking above the office-block.
    â€œHey!” he exclaimed. “I think that building really is on fire!”
    â€œYes,” said Luke. “It caught nicely.”
    David looked at him unbelievingly. Luke was staring intently at the building, with a gentle, coaxing smile on his mouth. His red-brown eyes were smiling in a different, vivid way, and moving up, slowly, over the building. “Luke!” David said sharply. As he said it, Luke’s mouth opened in a little sigh of satisfaction.
    â€œAh!” said Luke.
    A big cloud of black smoke rolled from the open windows above the cafe and, whirling round, like part of the smoke, were fierce orange flames. A bell began to ring in the building, loudly and continuously, and it brought people hurrying out of the cafe and the shops on either side. They turned to look up at the building, pointed and exclaimed and jostled. Then more people came out of the glass doors that led to the offices. These came