ISOF by Pete Townsend Page B

but…’ A burst of stifled laughter interrupted him. Pinchkin’s eyes gave the rest of the group a severe warning.
    â€˜Anything else, Ben?’ she asked with an encouraging smile.
    â€˜It doesn’t matter’, he answered angrily. Feeling annoyed with everything and everybody, Ben distracted himself by studying the book in front of him.
    The book appeared to be about the size of an ordinary paperback book. Ben was amazed at how rough and ragged the surface appeared at first glance, but no matter how hard he examined the book, he couldn’t see any obvious scratches or tears in the surface. Leaning closer to the book, Ben examined the rough piece of string that served as a clasp to hold the book closed. As his nose got closer to the book, he was suddenly aware of an odd smell. At first he wasn’t sure whether the odour came from the book or someone close by. He lowered his nose even further towards the book and was given a noxious welcome.
    â€˜Struth!’ he exclaimed, jerking his nose away from the book, ‘it’s an old goat!’
    Several heads turned at the outburst. Concerned with all the unwanted attention, Pinchkin playfully smacked Ben’s hand.
    â€˜That’s no way to refer to Cedric,’ she chided, quickly pressing a finger to Cedric’s lips as he began to protest. ‘Only teasing,’ she said slowly removing her finger. Cedric sat back in his seat and folded his long arms around his body. It was obvious to everyone that he was far from happy with Pinchkin’s humour. Fully aware that Cedric was in a huff, Pinchkin nudged the book towards Ben.
    â€˜A little gift for you,’ she said, her hand lingering on the book. ‘Guard it well because it will prove invaluable.’
    Ben shook his head.
    â€˜I’m not carrying that around,’ he said angrily. ‘No way.’
    Pushing the book even further towards him, Pinchkin looked directly into his eyes.
    â€˜It contains a reference to many things and,’ she winked, ‘some that might come in handy when you least expect them to.’
    â€˜I haven’t time to read,’ flushed an angered Ben.
    â€˜Pah!’ spat Mak, making a grab for the book. ‘I won’t ask how you’re so familiar with the smell of an old goat.’ Anything more that Mak might have wanted to say was suddenly stifled by four of his fingers making a forced entry into his mouth. ‘Aargh!’ he grunted through the mass of pained flesh.
    â€˜Oh goodness,’ exclaimed Pinchkin. ‘I’m so sorry, I should have said, but the book can only be held and read by those it has chosen.’
    â€˜Now you tell me,’ grunted Mak, his eyes beginning to moisten.
    â€˜Well,’ replied Pinchkin defensively. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to perform a snatch and grab so quickly.’
    â€˜So, who can touch it?’ asked Noj trying to take the sting out of the situation if not from Mak’s fingers.
    â€˜Well,’ began Pinchkin. ‘That’s difficult to say with any certainty. At times, the book seems incapable of making up its mind.’
    â€˜Obviously a book written by a female author,’ grinned Ben.
    â€˜I’d be careful what you say young, man,’ said Pinchkin sternly. ‘It appears that you are developing the male trait for speaking before thinking somewhat prematurely.’
    â€˜So,’ asked Telu, conscious of Ben’s embarrassment. ‘How are we supposed to know if we can hold the book safely, even if I am a woman?’ she said grinning at Ben.
    â€˜You don’t,’ replied Pinchkin.
    â€˜What?’ exclaimed Trep. ‘You mean…’
    â€˜I’m definitely not touching the daft book again,’ snapped Mak, still sucking at the little beads of blood forming on his pricked fingers.
    â€˜All I can tell you,’ answered Pinchkin to the question on the group’s faces. ‘Is that if someone