collection of African masks suspiciously and tutted at the layer of dust on the desiccated frogs that lined one of the many window-sills.
‘Oh – some books arrived for you,’ she said. ‘They were in the entrance hall but I couldn’t manage them. One o’ the lads’ll bring ’em up later.’
‘Please, Cherry, don’t send people up here,’ said Clip. ‘You know I really don’t like being disturbed.’
‘Aye, well – ‘tis done now. It were Swift in fact and I didn’t ask him – he offered. Now, make sure you eat that and don’t forget to bring the tray back down, will you? Else I’ll have to send someone up for it. I’m not having dirty plates mouldering away in here.’
Clip smiled good-naturedly at her, wishing her gone so he could return to his solitude. She clumped down the stairs and eventually he heard the door on the ground floor shut. He sighed, eyeing the tray of unwanted food with distaste. It was vital to fast before a major journey – the odd apple and handful of hazelnuts were all he’d permit himself – and now he’d have to somehow dispose of this without Cherry noticing. He appreciated her and Marigold’s concern, but it was wearing to be fussed over.
He turned back to the window and then gasped in agony as, without warning, excruciating pain sliced through his abdomen. His eyes darkened with shock and he tried to ride above it, but it gripped him with vicious coils. Clip’s thin body bent double and a long groan escaped. He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach, whimpering as the pain bit deeper and deeper into his guts.
Then it was gone as suddenly as it had come. Clip straightened and took a deep, ragged breath. Was it some sort of omen of things to come? Shakily he stood up, grasping hold of the window ledge to steady himself. He went to a cupboard recessed in the ancient stone walls and selected a bottle of murky liquid. He’d prepared this remedy to ward off the emptiness that gnawed at him before a journey – maybe a draught would ease the cramp. He could cope with hunger but not pain like that. He’d no idea where it had come from and fervently hoped never to encounter it again.
He groaned again as there was another knock at the door downstairs, which this time he heard clearly. The trouble was anyone standing in the corridor on the other side of the heavy oak door couldn’t hear his reply. He’d have to start bolting the door, he decided, as he really hated all these disturbances. The door opened below and a lad’s voice carried up the stairs.
‘Just leave the books down there please!’ called Clip, leaning over the head of the spiral stairs and trying to see where the boy was. Swift – Martin’s son, he thought, always a little hazy on the names and identities of that huge generation. Clip recalled the small pale-haired boy, much younger than Martin’s other children.
‘Oh for goddess’ sake!’ he muttered as he saw a blond head circling up the staircase. ‘Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?’
Swift surprised Clip by being a young man, and he realised with a jolt just how out of touch he was becoming. The youth was slightly built, not tall like Martin, and handsome with straight silvery blond hair that fell into his eyes. He smiled disarmingly at Clip, not in the slightest bit out of breath. He carried a large brown package that looked heavy.
‘Your books!’ he said cheerfully, looking around with interest.
‘Very kind of you,’ said Clip. ‘Just put them down on that chair. Thanks for bringing them up for me, Swift.’
‘My pleasure,’ said the lad charmingly. ‘And you remember who I am!’
‘Well, I—’
‘It’s a beautiful place, your tower. I love all your collections.’
To Clip’s dismay, the lad put the books down and sank onto the sofa with another grin.
‘I’d love to hear about your travels one day,’ he said. ‘Father says you’ve travelled all over the world and I know your Story Webs are full of tales from different cultures, but you never talk about where you’ve been.’
‘No, I suppose not. Though my travels in recent years have been negligible.’
‘You must miss it,’ said Swift sympathetically.
‘Yes, I do. It’s all I ever really wanted to do, but somehow …’ Clip spread his hands and shrugged in a gesture of acceptance at his fate.
‘Father says that life doesn’t always work out as we expect,’