Emily's Penny Dreadful by Bill Nagelkerke Page A

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