the pair of them through seemingly untrodden ways where the dust had previously gathered, unsullied by boot or claw. They left their mark on the trail. Amanda said that their footprints would remain a thousand years, gathering more dust in the hollows of the heels and in the shallows of the soles.
‘Just like the footprints of astronauts on the moon,’ he told her, but she was shocked when he explained. ‘Have you never heard of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin? They were the first men on the surface of the moon.’
‘Men have desecrated the surface of the moon? Titania and Oberon will hate that,’ she told him, as if Shakespeare’s fairies were real people. ‘How could they soil the silver moondust with the mundane feet of men?’
He thought that sounded very poetic and kept the sentence in mind to pass on to his sister, when he next saw her.
One morning there was a hoar frost. A chill draught had blown down from the upper reaches of the attic and turned any moisture to crystals that glittered in the early sunlight from the windows. Young Jack Frost was about, dancing with twinkling toes on box, board and bagatelle. Alex woke thrusting the crackling blanket from him to rub his legs with his hands. It had been a cold night and he had shivered for the last hour. The owl seemed to smile at him, saying, Now the feathers come into their own.
‘You’d better watch it,’ muttered Alex. ‘I’ve had pigeon pie since I came up here, and I wouldn’t say no to owl pudding.’
‘What did you say?’ asked Amanda, rising and yawning, stretching her arms up in a big Y. ‘Did you speak to me?’
‘No, I was simply saying good morning to your owl.’
Just then Alex noticed something lying twenty metres away.
‘I know that pile of rags,’ he said, getting up. ‘He’s got himself a fox fur for a topknot.’
He walked to a heap of clothes and poked it with his toe.
‘Morning, board-comber,’ he said. ‘Like the hat.’
The Inuit carvings collector stirred himself. He had wrapped a fox fur round his head in the night. He looked up at Alex. The nose of the fox ran down the nose on the mask of the board-comber. Its dark eyes glittered. To Alex it was like addressing a boy with two heads. The board-comber looked about a hundred kilos heavier than he had before, but it was only more padding, several more layers of old clothes.
The black bat dangling from his ear twittered, and the board-comber said, ‘I’m just about to ask him.’ He turned to Alex. ‘Did you find me any you-know-whats on the other side of the lake?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I did look.’
The bat twittered and the board-comber sighed.
‘Oh, well – never mind – so long as you looked.’
‘I did. And now I’m going home. Hey, you should meet another board-comber, my friend over here. She collects pocket-watches.’
But a funny thing happened. The two board-combers refused to look at one another. They didn’t speak. They completely ignored each other. There was a kind of shyness there, or rivalry, Alex couldn’t decide which. Perhaps a little of both? But it was obviously a professional board-combers’ thing. Board-combers didn’t acknowledge one another, and that was that. Some code of culture which was unbreakable, even for a mutual friend. The old board-comber wished Alex the best of luck and said goodbye, and the new board-comber yelled that she was ready to leave. Alex told the old one if he ever got his hands on some carvings down below, he’d chuck them up into the attic and know they would end up in good loving hands.
‘Come on!’ called Amanda in a testy tone, not looking at either of them. ‘Time we were on our way.’
‘I’m coming.’
Before he ran back to her, the board-comber he was with leaned closer and pressed three small packages into his hand.
‘For your sister,’ he whispered. ‘A gift. For your brother. And for you. For helping me find a new treasure.’
‘I know what mine is,’ said Alex, grinning, weighing the largest of the parcels in his hand. ‘Thanks. Thanks a lot.’
Alex shook a hand that had the texture of crumpled paper.
He put the gifts in his backpack.
When he got back to Amanda, he said, ‘An old friend.’
‘Huh, can’t be that old, you’ve only been up here five minutes.’
‘Well, he helped me, just as you’re helping me.’
‘Who cares?’ she said.
Alex wanted the two board-combers to become friends, but they clearly would have