hour late.’
‘2.45,’ muttered Amy. That’s why Singapore wasn’t listed. The screen had room only for flights due in the next two hours.
‘Why is it delayed?’ asked Christopher.
‘Something’s missing. Not the engine,’she said quickly as Christopher’s mouth opened with that question.
Amy watched closely. Was she covering up something? She didn’t seem to want to answer all their questions. Was something really wrong with the plane?
‘What else is missing?’ asked Amy.
‘A person.’
‘Who?’
‘Is it the pilot?’ asked Christopher.
‘No.’
‘Is it a passenger?’
‘Don’t worry about him.’
‘Who is he?’ Amy never gave up.
‘We don’t know. His baggage is here and he isn’t.’
‘How do you know he’s missing?’ Once Amy caught the scent of a mystery, she followed it regardless.’He might just be running late.’
But the giraffe lady was not going to answer awkward questions. Her high heels moved nervously, like well-polished hooves.
‘I’ll ring your parents in Singapore. If they’re not home, I’ll leave a message at Changi which is the Singapore Airport. Wait here.’
‘May I go to the toilet? It’s just over there.’ Amy pointed to the international toilet sign. ‘Then I’ll come back.’
‘All right. But don’t wander off. I’m responsible for you. My name is Rose.’
Amy had read her name tag already. And she smelt of roses, too.
Christopher said, ‘I’ll wait for you out here.’
He pulled out his sketchbook and watched through the window. Yellow lights flashed on busy vehicles. Joined-together trailers piled with bags and suitcases were pulled here and there.
Planes came rolling up. They plugged into the tube. The airport was like a giant vacuum cleaner. People were whooshed out of the planes, up the walkways and out through security. Always the suits with briefcases came out first. Christopher started to design a giant vacuum cleaner for passengers.
Perhaps that’s where the missing passenger could go?
Meanwhile, Amy wondered about the real reason why the plane was late.
Chapter 3
The Lizard Lady
Amy hurried into the women’s toilets. She liked all the coin machines with little packages of toothpaste, perfume and combs. You could have a shower, too.
Ahead of her was a wheelchair. Just the back of a woman’s shoulders and head were showing. The dark hair was cut short. Like a ruff, a neck brace circled her neck. Then Amy noticed the stickers. She always noticed other people’s stickers. Mum and Dad collected stickers for her from all over the world. Most were ‘greenie’ Save The Planet stickers,but she had a few surfie ones like Hot Tuna and Billabong, too.
Amy looked closer. There was a bright yellow sticker she hadn’t seen before. Like a frill-necked lizard. Let Our Lizards Be Frilled, Not Grilled, said the sticker. What did that mean?
Just then, a hand pressed the control on the arm of the chair. On that hand was coiled a big lizard ring. The frills were made from opal. The chair wobbled and the bag on the handles slipped. The zip was half open. What looked like an airport security jacket was stuffed in the bag.
Crack!
A tawny yellow walking- stick fell on the floor. It had a lizard carving on the handle. Amy stared. There was something strange about that frilled lizard head. It matched the ring which the woman was wearing. Near the wheels there was a squeak. Did they need oiling? Or was it something else?
Just as Amy bent forward to pick up the stick, with a quick movement ,the woman swung the chair around further. In her lap she had a mobile phone and a briefcase.
Amy watched as the woman put down the aerial on the mobile phone.
She’s wired for sound. I thought witches had broomsticks, not neck-ruffs, lizard jewellery and mobile phones, she thought.
‘Thanks, dear.’ The woman took the stick from Amy and rolled away. Amy stared after her. The voice had been an after-crying weepy sort of voice.
When Amy came out to wash her hands, the wheelchair woman was still there, putting on pink lipstick. Her bird ear rings dangled. She was sniffing sadly. Her tissue looked stringy damp. She peered into the mirror and rubbed at the runny black mascara marks.
‘Did you say goodbye to someone?’ asked Amy kindly as she washed her hands. An airport was a hullo and goodbye sort of place.
‘Yes, my son. He’s always travelling. Chasing things. I don’t know when he’ll be back. He’s got a dangerous and difficult job. Especially this time.’
Amy fished in her pocket for a clean hanky. Aunty Viv always gave them black hankies before they left . It was in case they caught a cold from the water when they crashed in the ocean. Aunty Viv bought hankies in bulk.
‘Have this.’
‘Thanks, dear,’ said the woman patting her eyes. The black mascara vanished onto the black hanky.
A thin-faced woman with dark glasses, and wearing a big floppy hat walked past .She seemed to be watching them in the mirror. Although her face and neck were thin, she was round elsewhere. Her jacket had lots of outside pockets, a bit like Dad’s photo jacket where he kept his extra film and spare lens. For once, Amy didn’t pay enough attention. Later, she wished she’d looked more closely.
As the hand- dryer whirred in the corner, Amy turned around.
‘They need a drying machine here for tears,’ she suggested. Christopher could easily design one. ‘Or for spraying smiles.’
Once Christopher had designed windscreen wipers for their glasses. They fell off!
Looking at her backpack tag, the old woman smiled. ‘Are you leaving soon for Singapore ,dear?’
‘Yes.’
‘First time?’
‘No. We’re meeting Mum and Dad. They shoot birds and animals.’
‘What?’
‘With their cameras. They’re photographers. They work all
