Gruffen (4 page)

Oh yes, there was an accident, sadly.

Fast as he was, agile as he was, Gruffen was no match for solid objects – like wardrobes. He was just about to roll his body and release his second jet of flame when he thudded into a corner of one. Everything went black and he fell to the floor. The last thing he remembered before the dizziness overcame him was what he thought might be the smell of the monster. It turned out to be the smell of Lucy’s socks.

He had landed inside her slipper.

“No damage, only bruises,” Gruffen heard Liz saying. He opened his eyes. The kitchen ceiling swam into view. It was daytime. He was lying on his back in Liz’s hands. The last thing he remembered was chasing a monster. The monster! Where was it? With a shake of his head he jumped to his feet.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Liz said, catching him. She helped him up onto the kitchen table where he tottered for a second and had to hold a banana in the fruit bowl for balance. He felt between his ears where there seemed to be an extra bit of clay he didn’t know about. It was shaped like an egg.

“You’ve had a bump,” said Liz. “You’ve been asleep for quite a while.”

Hrrr, went Gruffen, looking around. Lucy was sitting at the end of the table with her chin propped up in the cup of her hands. “Thanks to you, we’ll have to redecorate,” she said.

“Nonsense,” said Liz. “It’s only a small scorch mark. We can move the wardrobe in front of it.”

Lucy went hmph. She flicked her gaze at Gruffen. The little dragon seemed slightly perplexed. “You burned my wallpaper,” she told him.

“Not intentionally,” said Liz. “He was doing what he thought was right.” She tapped Gruffen on the shoulder. “Can you remember what you saw, Gruffen? Can you describe what this monster looked like?”

Gruffen sat on his haunches and blew a deep sigh. It was all coming back now. The zigging. The zagging. The sudden crash. Apart from that moment where he’d tried to fight it, the monster had had no shape at all. He remembered the wings and the tiny head, though. Perhaps he could show Liz and Lucy that?

“It was like this,” he hurred. Softening his scales, he stretched his wings until they resembled two flowing capes. Then he squeezed his head down into his shoulders and somehow produced two pointy ears as well.

Lucy gave a gasp. “Huh! He’s turned into it!”

“So he has,” said Liz, clapping his cleverness. “Now the mystery is solved. I know what it is. That’s no monster. That’s a—”

The doorbell rang before she could finish.

“A what?” demanded Lucy.

“In a moment. Let me answer the door,” said her mum. “Now, Gruffen. You know what to do if visitors come into the house, don’t you?”

To be on the safe side, Gruffen looked up “Visitors” in his book of procedures. It said, Visitors are welcome, but can become suspicious. Always be on guard. Act solid at all times or move quickly enough not to be seen by them. He glanced at the listener on top of the fridge. It had already hardened its scales. Gruffen put his book away, flew onto a wall shelf and did the same.

“Good boy,” said Liz and went to the door.

Moments later, a tall, elderly gentleman came striding into the kitchen.

“This is Mr Bacon,” Lucy said to Gruffen. “He lives next door.” She had not forgotten the rules. She just liked to tease Mr Bacon now and then.

He twizzled his moustache and looked at her sourly. “Of course it’s me. Who on earth were you talking to, child?”

“My guard dragon,” said Lucy.

Her mother frowned darkly.

Mr Bacon cast a quick glance at Gruffen. On the whole, he didn’t think much of the dragons or Lucy’s love for them. “Strange girl,” he muttered.

Lucy stuck out her tongue.

“Henry, why are you here?” asked Liz, steering Mr Bacon round to face her.

“Bats,” he boomed. “In the attic, Mrs P.”

“Yes, I know,” said Liz, in reply to his statement. “There’s been one flying around outside Lucy’s bedroom window.”

“Has there?” gasped Lucy. Her mouth fell open in astonishment.

On the shelf, Gruffen raised an eye ridge. He drummed his claws quietly against his book. Bat. Now he had a name for the monster. He needed to look that up. But how could he, with Mr Bacon standing right beside him?

“Need to speak to someone at the Council,” said Henry. “Have them removed, before they breed.”

“Breed?” asked Liz, glancing at Gruffen. The young dragon was hiding by an ornamental jug where he was quietly flicking through his book.

“Like rabbits,” said Henry. “Hundreds in the rafters before you know it.”

“Mum, they might bite me and suck my blood and turn me into a vampire!” cried Lucy, who knew a thing or two about someone called Count Dracula, who regularly turned into a giant bat.

“I don’t think so,” said Liz, wondering which was worse: Lucy’s imagination or Henry Bacon’s.

“Of course, we could just smoke them out,” Henry said.

Which seemed to be a cue for Gruffen to snort a small puff of smoke into Henry’s left ear. He had just found an entry for “Bats” in his book: small, harmless, nocturnal creatures. Many species are protected, it said. Protected!

“What the…?” Henry turned round sharply to look at the dragon with the guilty expression and the open book. For a nanosecond of puzzled time he did ask himself if the model could have been a different shape the first time he’d seen it, but what was of far more importance was the strange sensation that the hairs in his ears had somehow been singed.

Liz moved quickly to right the situation. She picked up a tea cosy and dropped it over Gruffen and the jug.

Henry threw her a quizzical look.

“Too distracting while we’re chatting,” she said. She put her hand on Henry’s shoulder and guided him down the hall. “Thank you for telling us about the bat, but I really don’t think we need to do anything too drastic. As it happens, I know an expert in bat…technology. He’ll sort it out in a jiffy, you’ll see.”

“Expert?” asked Henry, poking his ear. Why was there ash on his fingertip, he wondered?

“Oh, he’s the best there is,” said Liz. And she pushed Henry out and came back into the kitchen.

Straightaway, Lucy echoed Mr Bacon’s confusion. “Expert?” she said, with a twitch of her nose.

Liz lifted the cosy off Gruffen and the jug. The young dragon was blushing a deep shade of green. He blurted out what he’d found out about bats in his book.

“Exactly,” said Liz. “It needs to be protected. And what better champion could it have than a guard dragon going by the name of Gruffen…?”

That evening, Gruffen abandoned Lucy’s bedpost and sat on her windowsill instead. By now, Lucy was not afraid. All afternoon she’d been poring through her wildlife books, reading up on anything she could about bats. She had discovered, for instance, that bats were mammals, just like people, and gorillas – and whales! They lived all over the world, she read, in caves and trees and even under bridges. There were mentions of barns and farm buildings too, but nothing about house roofs with loft insulation. For food, they caught insects, moths and the like. And – but this was something she knew now, anyway – they were fantastic at flying. Indeed, she stressed to Gruffen, bats were the only mammals that could fly.

At bedtime, she reminded Gruffen of these facts again. Being a patient, sensitive dragon he had found it interesting – the first time he’d heard it. By the tenth time he was beginning to wish that Liz would make a special lullaby dragon that could send Lucy off into a deep, deep sleep. But her mother soon did what mother’s always do when children go to bed and stay awake too long: she came into the bedroom, took the book out of her daughter’s hands, put it on the bedside table and said, “Head on the pillow now, please.” Then she turned out the light. And that was that.