The last jobs were to place two planks in the pumpkin across the inside so they’d have somewhere to sit, and erect the sail so they’d have wind power even if the engine failed. They set up the mast between the horizontal planks and hauled the sail up it so it sat in a perfect triangle. Grandad was good at knots, so he did those, and by the time the sun had started to set, the pumpkin was ready.

Marty and Grandad sat down, exhausted. Their arms ached. Their backs ached, but neither of them had ever felt so happy. She was a beauty, an absolute stunner. A dream realized. Marty just looked at her, her majestic sail flapping gently in the moonlight.

“Tomorrow morning we sail,” murmured Grandad quietly.

Marty looked at him and, for the first time, saw a tired look in his eyes.

“It’s going to be great!” he said. “We’ll show them!”

Grandad saw Marty’s eyes glance toward Gracie’s house.

“I thought she was supposed to be back tonight?” Grandad asked, scratching his head.

Marty nodded.

“She was.”

Grandad frowned.

“Something must’ve come up.” Marty shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be here by morning.”

Marty had soon fallen into a deep sleep, but the cold woke him up again. He got up and rummaged around in the shed for Gracie’s sleeping bag and draped it over himself to keep warm before realizing that Grandad wasn’t there.

“Grandad?” he asked the darkness. Marty frowned and lay back down again. He was probably outside making some last-minute preparations. Marty closed his eyes. Tomorrow was going to be a very big day.

Grandad looked up at the house and pulled off his hat. There was a light on inside. He cleared his throat and knocked gingerly at the door. He heard footsteps on the tiles inside.

Gracie’s dad opened the door, took off his glasses, and looked out into the gloom. There he saw a man with a dirty jacket. It was him. Crazy Allotment Man.

“What do you want?” he asked irritably.

“You’re Gracie’s dad, aren’t you?” said Grandad. “I think you and me should have a little talk.”

TWENTY-SIX