Big Change for Stuart (29 page)

‘Yes, but
we're
not,' said Stuart.

‘No,' echoed April. ‘And if we don't agree to sell them, then maybe she'll spend her cash on something better.'

A small smile appeared on Maxwell Lacey's pale, composed face. ‘You would be turning down a life-changing amount of money.'

‘My life's already changed,' said Stuart.

‘And I don't know that I want to change my life
that
much,' said April. ‘I already argue with my sisters most of the time. Imagine the arguments we'd have if I was the only millionaire in the family. And anyway, I'd rather become a millionaire by doing something brilliant and useful.'

Maxwell Lacey nodded. ‘Yes, I can see that
happening,'
he said drily. ‘And you,' he asked Stuart. ‘Will you become a stage magician like your great-uncle?'

Stuart tried to imagine himself standing in a spotlight in front of a huge, expectant audience, and hastily shook his head. ‘I think I'd rather do something adventurous. Outdoors. Crossing deserts on camels, mapping out uncharted territories.'

‘Bravely rescuing people who've got stuck,' added April, nudging him.

‘Yes, that sort of thing,' he said, a bit embarrassed.

‘So what will you do with Tony Horten's legacy,' asked the lawyer, ‘if you don't sell it to my client?'

All three of them turned to look at the illusions, and Stuart thought of his great-uncle's message:

The Well of Wishes, the Pharaoh's Pyramid,
the
Arch of Mirrors, the Fan of Fantasticality, the Reappearing Rose Bower, the Cabinet of Blood, the Book of Peril: seven miracles of engineering, seven gateways to magical worlds (now closed for ever), seven tricks in need of skilled and loving attention and an admiring audience.

‘I've got an idea,' said Stuart.

‘See you tomorrow then, Stuey,' shouted one of Stuart's friends as he turned the corner into Beech Road.

‘See you.'

It was a crisply cold day in November, the sky a brilliant blue, and Stuart was just arriving home from school. Everyone in his new class called him ‘Stuey' and he quite liked it. It was certainly no worse than anyone else's nickname, and a lot, lot better than Shorty Shorten. No one ever called him
that
any more.

‘Hail,' said his father. ‘Another satisfactory day at your pedagogic institution?'

‘Yeah, it was pretty good,' replied Stuart.

‘And how was the inaugural meeting of the
after-school
Explorer's Club?'

‘All right. In fact I've, er … I've been voted president of it. Unanimously.' He tried to sound casual, but it was hard not to show how pleased he was.

His father smiled. ‘Splendid.'

‘Dad, can I go round to April's after supper? She's writing an article on dog-training for the school magazine and we want to try and teach Charlie to balance a biscuit on his nose.'

Although what Stuart
really
wished he could teach the dog was to come when he was called. He opened the back door and tried out another couple of names he'd thought of on the way home.

‘Chuckle! Chopper!' The dog carried on sniffing round the garden.

‘A duo of postal missives arrived for you,' said his father.

‘Two letters? For me?'

The first was a large envelope with a cluster of Canadian stamps. Stuart opened it and drew out a rectangle of cream card, edged in gold.

Grinning, Stuart turned the card over and saw a few lines of handwriting.

The other envelope contained a small object wrapped in tissue paper, a newspaper cutting and a postcard of a theatre, with a cheerfully scrawled pencil message on the back.

Stuart picked up the small object wrapped in tissue paper. He could feel through the wrapping that it was small and circular.
It's a coin
, he thought, and then drew a quick breath.

A coin.

A coin that had been found in the Well of Wishes.

He gripped the object, not knowing quite how he felt – anxious? Scared? Excited? Could this, he wondered, be the start of a whole new quest? He hesitated for a long moment before putting it down again, still wrapped, and unfolding the cutting from the
Beech Road Guardian
.