She found Mrs Digby boiling pasta and scolding the radio.
The radio presenter was saying:
‘WE AT CHIME MELODY APOLOGISE FOR THE INTERFERENCE TO OUR BROADCASTS DURING THIS PAST WEEK. WE ARE TRYING TO CORRECT THE PROBLEM. MEANWHILE, DON’T GO TWISTING THAT DIAL, WE’LL MISS YOU.’
‘They shoulda sorted the issue before now,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘It’s more than an old person can stand, this squawking coming at you every time you step into your kitchen – no wonder my noodles are overcooked.’ She twisted the tuner to Twinford Talk Radio.
‘SO BETTY, I HEAR YKK 672 IS ABOUT TO PASS PRETTY CLOSE TO EARTH?’ ‘THAT’S RIGHT KEN.’ ‘BETTY, IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THE ASTEROID COULD BE INTERFERING WITH CHIME MELODY 204 FM?’ ‘INTERESTING THEORY KEN, BUT I DON’T THINK THE SCIENTISTS WOULD AGREE THAT THE TWO THINGS ARE RELATED.’
‘Asteroid, my foot.’ Mrs Digby clunked the off switch with her ladle and went back to salvaging her noodles.
But Ruby’s mind was no longer on food; it was far too busy trying to decide if Ken might just be right. Maybe the asteroid did have a part to play in this whole mystery.
Or maybe it was just a cold bit of rock floating through space, and Ruby was no closer to working out what in tarnation was going on.
Ambassador Crew
did not consider himself the
type of man to be commandeered
by pirates – it just wasn’t in his
game plan...
The captain of the Golden Albatross – a cowardly little man – might have surrendered immediately, but Ambassador Crew was no coward and he would not give in so readily.
He had had enough of dancing to their tune. He stood up from where the Twinfordites were huddled and strode out to confront the head pirate. He drew himself up as tall as he could. He towered above these scoundrels and it made him feel confident. He would get what he wanted – he always did.
‘This will not stand – do you hear me? I insist that you release me and drop me back on terra firma – I have a job and it’s an important one. Oh, and these people need to get home too.’ He waved his hand, indicating the cowering cruise passengers. ‘Some of them have jobs and most of them have commitments of sorts.’
The pirates merely laughed.
‘Who is this bozo with the snapped arm?’ jeered the pirate with the poor dental work. He was pointing at Ambassador Crew’s plaster cast – an injury sustained in a squash match.
‘Now, just look here—’ began Ambassador Crew.
The pirate snarled a menacing snarl that came from deep inside. ‘You are not the boss of this boat, I am, and if I say you need to keep your big mouth shut, you shut it – understood?’
Ambassador Crew glanced at the silver knife glimmering in the pirate’s hand, and he kept his mouth firmly shut.
‘And if I say you jump up and down, then you jump up and down, got it?’ said the pirate.
Ambassador Crew nodded.
‘So jump up and down,’ snarled the pirate.
Ambassador Crew jumped.
IT WAS 8AM ON SATURDAY MORNING and Clancy Crew was doing as Coach Newhart had suggested: swimming as if his life depended on it. At this rate he was going to win the trophy for Twinford Junior High single-handed. He was way out in front and almost at the buoy. He even thought he could hear Ruby’s shouts, urging him on, but of course he couldn’t, not with the earplugs in. What he could hear was the thumping of his heart and the voice in his head which said, ‘Why am I in the water? Am I out of my mind? I’m going to die!’
A couple of times he thought he saw something; a couple of times he thought he felt something brush past him. He tried to focus on a rule Ruby had taught him many, many years ago when he was just a tiny kid at a Halloween party. It had been his turn to stick his hand in the Halloween barrel; the barrel always contained everyday items – a hard-boiled egg with shell removed – but your imagination could easily lead you to believe that it was a misshapen eyeball you were holding. Sometimes, it is important to shut down the creative part of the brain, just tell yourself it’s OK and you will find that it is OK. RULE 21: DON’T THINK BACK, DON’T THINK AHEAD, JUST THINK NOW.
So Clancy tried to do just that. Things went fine until he got to the marker, turned and began to swim back to shore. This was the worst bit, the bit he dreaded. Now, he couldn’t see what was behind him; now, he would never know if some large fish with big sharp teeth was following him, waiting for exactly the right moment to open its jaws and bite down on a leg, or worse – his whole body. He imagined the blood gushing up out of his mouth, the feeding frenzy that would ensue.
Clancy closed his eyes and swam.
He swam so hard and so blindly that he only realised that he had reached the beach when he felt the rough sand graze his stomach and the strong hand of Coach Newhart pulling him to his feet.
‘Nice swim Crew. I knew you had technique, but I had no idea you were fast.’ The coach draped a towel round his shoulders and slapped him on the back. ‘Grab a hot drink son and get warmed up.’
Clancy staggered towards the support team, all of them smiling, all of them cheering congratulations, but Clancy was only aware of the sensation of sand underfoot; feet, all two of them, back on terra firma. He was alive.
When the swimathon was over and all the participants were out of the water and back on the beach, pulling on their tracksuits, Clancy went to find Ruby. She was sitting on the beach, her head resting on her knees, her eyes focused on the horizon. She looked up, smiling. ‘See Clance, I told you you could do it!’
‘Can we just get out of here?’ he pleaded.
Once they were safely installed in their favourite booth in the Double Donut, Ruby picked up the conversation. ‘Mind over matter is all it took you – of course, guts too,’ she added. ‘I don’t deny that.’
‘Well, never again,’ said Clancy, clutching a mug of hot chocolate. He was still shivering even though it was eighty degrees outside.
‘Don’t let Coach Newhart hear you saying that,’ said Ruby. ‘He thinks he just discovered the swim talent of the century. My guess is he’s got big plans for you my friend.’
‘Can we please talk about something else?’ pleaded Clancy. He was beginning to turn green. It was fair to say that Clancy Crew looked all washed out, which wasn’t surprising since he had just faced his biggest fear and lived to tell the tale. Ruby thought about her darkest terror, the total fear of being buried alive. Would she have fared so well if forced to confront her own nightmare? She decided to cut Clancy a little slack and changed the subject.
‘So I’m guessing Spectrum might issue me with some new spy gadgets – you know, dive-related ones.’
‘Talking of which…’ Clancy pulled something out of his pocket. ‘I found this on the beach, you musta dropped it.’ It was the rescue watch.
‘Thanks Clance! I didn’t even realise I’d lost it. It’s the clasp – the darned thing keeps coming loose. Hey, but that little problem with the retractable grab cable should be all hunky-dory now so I can abseil out of anywhere.’
‘Wish you’d grabbed me out of the ocean an hour ago,’ muttered Clancy.
‘Nah,