The Portal by Andrew Norriss Page B

quietly asking Timber to get her a screwdriver – a flathead this time, not a Phillips.
    The farmhouse, when he got back, seemed empty and cold. He thought of doing his homework but, as he wasn’t going into school on Monday, decided there wasn’t much point and sat on a sunlounger on the terrace instead, trying to read the
Station Manager’s Manual
.
    Looking out over the valley, he realized that he was worried about his parents in a way that he hadn’t been since the day he and Daniel had come home to find them gone. Somehow, Uncle Larry had always made it seem that finding them was just a minor inconvenience that would soon be sorted out – annoying but not the sort of thing to cause any real anxiety. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The feeling was growing inside him that whatever had happened was more serious than Uncle Larry was letting on.
    The house still felt empty, even when Daniel came home at six o’clock for supper. Not that Daniel himself seemed to notice. Mrs Duggan had given him the feet of the chicken they had eaten and he sat at the kitchen table, picking open the muscles with a knife and sorting out which ones you had to pull to make the toes move. Then, when he’d finished with that, he began cleaning the hedgehog’s skull with the sharpened end of a matchstick.
    As the evening wore on, William found he was becoming more worried rather than less and he was quite glad, after doing the bricks at a quarter to nine, when it was time for bed. For some reason, the words Larry had spoken as he left kept repeating themselves in his head.
    â€˜I’ll be back on Wednesday,’ he had said, ‘And by then we’ll have this whole business sorted out. One way or another.’
    It was that phrase ‘one way or another’ that bothered him.

C HAPTER S EVEN
    The next morning William was too busy to do much worrying. There were the bricks at a quarter past seven – he had set three alarm clocks to make sure he woke up in time. There was Daniel to wake up and get ready for school – he thought he should be allowed to stay home as well, but William persuaded him that it wasn’t fair to let Amy go on her own. And there were all the preparations for the passenger who would be arriving that morning – towels and soap to lay out, food to prepare, and cleaning machines to order into action.
    The passenger was a round, cheerful-looking man called Hippo White. William had no idea if that was his real name or a translation of it, but Emma said he was a trader who made his livingbuying items in one part of the Federation and selling them in another. Dressed in a blue tunic and a pair of soft, baggy trousers that tucked into his boots, he came shooting up through the Portal a little after nine.
    â€˜Hi there! You must be William!’ He held out a hand in greeting as he stepped over the lip of the Portal. ‘Any news of your parents yet?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ said William.
    â€˜I must say, it all sounds very odd.’ Hippo followed William out to the lobby, pulling a small suitcase behind him. ‘Brin was telling me about it. Where’ve they gone, do you think?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ said William.
    â€˜Well, not to worry. Larry’ll track them down.’ Hippo paused in the lobby and looked round. ‘Am I in the green suite?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said William. ‘If you’d like to follow me…’
    â€˜It’s all right, I know the way!’ Hippo was already striding towards the door. ‘But if you could manage a pot of… um… what’s it called…’
    â€˜Tea?’ suggested William.
    â€˜That’s the one!’ said Hippo, and he disappeared into his room.
    William made a pot of tea and took it, with a plate of sandwiches, across to the green suite. Inside, Hippo was dictating a series of messagesto Emma that he wanted sending out with the next brick and he gestured to