yet, too intent on what he was doing. His arms were bare and sheened with sweat. He looked like he could lift a car up over his head with one hand, no problem.
Ziggy was grinning. “Now this is my idea of a cool summer job,” he said loudly to the others, over the sound of the hammering. “You’d be covered in muscles in no time. I wonder if he needs an apprentice.” The blacksmith looked up, smiled at them, and tipped his head, inviting them in.
“You’ll be the new go-fers, I bet,” he bellowed. “Mabel Tench told me she had some fresh blood coming in today.” He whacked the piece of hot metal once more with his hammer, lifted the tongs up to squint at his work—he was making a horseshoe, Alan decided—then plunged it into a nearby bucket of water, which hissed in a most satisfying way.
“Ivor Smith, at your service,” he said and extended a large, grubby hand, which they all shook. “Smith’s the name, smith’s the occupation, if you take my meaning.”
“Why is he shouting?” Josée whispered to Ziggy.
“I think maybe he’s a little hard of hearing,” Ziggy whispered back. “Comes of whacking metal all day, I guess.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Alan said, in a loud voice. He’d come to the same conclusion. “I’m Alan, and this is Ziggy and Josée.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Len,” the blacksmith said. “Likewise, Iggy and Joey.”
“Is there anything we can do to help around here?” Ziggy asked.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Can we help?” Ziggy said, louder.
“I’m very well, thanks,” Ivor Smith said. “Now where’d my assistant get to? I need some more coal on the fire. She was here a minute ago. Must have slipped away to the biffy.”
“I’ll get it,” Ziggy said. He’d noticed the large bin of coal as they came in. He filled a shovel with the black lumps and turned to ask the smith if that was enough, and where to put it, just as a slim young woman hurried in. She was wearing a leather apron, too.
“Hey,” she said to Ziggy. “What are you doing? Get away from there.”
“I was just getting some more coal . . .” he began.
“That’s my job,” the woman said. “And anyway, visitors aren’t allowed to touch the artifacts.” She strode over to Ziggy, took the shovel away from him and began to do the job herself.
“Très gentille,” Josée muttered, sarcastically.
“They’re not visitors, Ellen,” Ivor Smith said. “They’re staff. These are the new go-fers Mabel told us about. Meet Len, Iggy and Joey.”
“Oh, you’re the new kids, are you?” she said, turning to look at them. She had a very white face and very black hair, as well as several piercings (nose and eyebrow), which glinted in the light from the coal fire. Spooky, Alan thought. She smiled, not very nicely. “Well, you’d better scoot outside double-quick then, because Sheldon’s looking for you.”
“Uh-oh,” Alan said.
“No kidding, uh-oh,” Ellen said. “He’s covered in white paint, and he didn’t look too happy.”
Alan, Ziggy and Josée exchanged frantic looks.
“We are so dead,” Ziggy said. And they ran.
THREE
That was awesome,” the little girl said, coming to meet them when she saw them hurrying towards the fence. “Too bad you missed it.” It was the girl from before, who had been with her brother, talking to Alan and Ziggy just before they’d found the gun in the manure pile.
“What happened—Lisa, isn’t it?” Alan said. The girl smiled shyly, obviously pleased that he remembered her name. “Yes, well, my brother Ben, he was doing that paint race on the fence, and he tripped over the bucket and then had one of his thingies, and started throwing paint at the other kids, and it turned into a paint fight.” Her eyes were shining. She had a splotch of white on one cheek and a smear on her T-shirt.
“He had one of his thingies?” Josée repeated.
“Uh-huh. Tantra-somethings.”
“Tantrums?”
“That’s it. Ben’s got issues, my mom says.”
There was a mess at the fence. People were arguing. They could see Sheldon in the middle of it, and another staff person had appeared with a bucket of water and was handing out pieces of rag for people to clean themselves up with.
“Anyway,” Lisa said, “when the paint started flying, a man with a camera stepped in and got a sploodge right in his face, and then it was like something in a movie.”
“Okay, you guys,” Alan said. “I guess we better go and face the firing squad.”
“They’re not going to fire us, are they?” Ziggy said. “It’s our first day.”
“We’ll see,” Alan said. “Come on.” And he, Ziggy and Josée marched resolutely up to Sheldon.
“It was these here kids who started it,” the camera man with the loud shirt said, pointing, as soon as he saw them. “They shoulda never let my boy try painting—he’s only six.” His son, the one who had been the first one to try the paint race, was fidgeting as his mother (whose loud print shirt was now smeared with white) was wiping off his face with a wet cloth.
“Well, he did want to, m’sieu,” Josée said sweetly. “Did you get lots of good pictures? You were filming the whole thing, weren’t you?”
“I knew you kids were trouble from the moment you showed up,” Sheldon said. “We could’a got sued over this, you know, if some brat got paint in his eye or something.”
“It was only for fun,” Alan said. “People liked it. It’s not our fault if one kid had a tantrum and started throwing paint.”
It was at this point that Mrs. Tench arrived on the scene.
“What’s going on here?” she said. “It looks like a PETA demonstration. Any minks damaged?”
“Huh?” Ziggy said.
“She means those animal rights people who throw paint at people wearing fur coats,” Josée said. “I saw it on the news once. She was just making a joke, I think.” It certainly didn’t look like Mrs. Tench was very upset. In fact, she looked like she thought it was funny. Sheldon filled her in, taking her aside and talking rapidly and crossly, occasionally stabbing a finger in the direction of Alan and his friends.
After a minute, she stepped over to where a few parents and kids were gathered around the water bucket, cleaning up. “Don’t worry, everybody,” she said. “It’s only whitewash. Water soluble, as no doubt you’re discovering. It’ll come out in the laundry, trust me. And if anybody wants us to pay for dry cleaning, just drop in to the main office on your way out and let me have your contact information.
