The Lightning Bolt by Kate Forsyth Page A

‘He’s a bad man, a very bad man. But Father knocked him down!’
    â€˜I showed him!’ the old man shouted, shaking his fist. ‘He dared hurt my girl, the sweetest girl that ever lived.’
    Fresh tears sprang into Fairnette’s eyes. ‘Oh, Father!’
    Mr Smith put his arm about her shoulder. ‘It’s all over now. Come on in, and we’ll see what the damage is.’

    The roundel the children had escaped from was a blackened ruin, and the kitchen was scorched with smoke, particularly around thedoorway. Miraculously the rest of the house had survived, though the floor was a mess of broken crockery and glass, with flour and honey and raisins and dried herbs littered everywhere and ground into the floor with filthy boot prints.
    Fairnette picked up the overturned chairs and set them neatly at the table, and then found a couple of battered tin mugs. The soldiers had not found her secret hoard of mead, a sweet, potent drink made of fermented honey. She poured it into the mugs and they all took turns to drink. The mead made their heads spin and their hearts leap.
    â€˜I can’t believe it,’ Mr Smith said. ‘That rain . . . it came at just the right moment.’
    â€˜Magic,’ Emilia said confidently.
    â€˜Luck,’ Luka said, not quite so confidently.
    â€˜A miracle,’ Fairnette said.
    They smiled at each other.
    â€˜So who are our saviours?’ the old man said. ‘Friends indeed in our time of need!’
    Fairnette flashed a quick look at Emilia and Luka. ‘Father! Let me introduce you. This is Luka and Emilia Finch. They’re the grandchildren of Maggie Finch, who I think you know . . .’
    â€˜Of course, I remember Maggie. She had the most beautiful long hair. Her family used to come for the horse fair in September, and to pick hops sometimes. She married . . . Sylvio Finch, of course. He had a dancing bear, and could play the fiddle like a demon. I wonder what happened to that bear?’
    â€˜We have one of his cubs, though of course it’s not a cub any more,’ Luka said. ‘We call her Sweetheart. She loves to dance too, and play football.’
    The old man laughed uproariously. ‘Sylvio’s bear liked to play football too. I’ll never forget it!’
    Luka and Emilia exchanged a glance of wry amusement.
    Van had shrunk back into his hood, his stump tucked out of sight. Emilia pursed up her lips andmimicked the sound of a swallow. It made him smile crookedly, and glance at her. She looked towards Luka, who had Zizi cuddled up in his arms, then looked back at Van pleadingly.
    His colour rose. His gaze fell.
    â€˜So what brings you and your cousin here to Horsmonden? It’s too early for the horse fair, isn’t it?’ The old man had noticed nothing, as usual.
    So, once again, they told him. He nodded when they mentioned the Graylings tribe and said, ‘Aye, that’s right, they left the roads and went to London, hoping to make their fortune there. Last I heard old Mala’s daughter had married a gorgio , some lawyer fellow.’
    Luka was very interested to hear this, and pressed the old man for details, but if he had ever known any more, he did not remember it. So Luka hurried on to his next urgent need, and this time, when he mentioned the wax imprints, the old man nodded his head jovially. ‘Sure, that’s easy enough.I could do that in my sleep.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been asked to copy keys. In the bad old days, that’s all we Smiths ever did, half the time, before they built the foundry.’ He paused, and his face clouded.
    Fairnette said quickly, ‘Did you used to make keys, Father? I didn’t know. It’d be great if you could make them for Luka.’
    The cloud passed away from the old man’s face. ‘Keys! It’s been a while. The hands don’t forget, though, no. I remember everything I’ve