As he went to climb on to his ShobGobble he said casually, ‘Let’s hope tomorrow is a nice day.’ He winked and pushed back his hair so they could see the tiny ‘t’ on his forehead. ‘A very nice day.’

37

‘There’s nobody here,’ said Topaz frantically. ‘Do you think –’

Nicola interrupted her. ‘It’s only nine-thirty. They’ll be here.’ She tried to sound as if she really believed it.

It was the following morning and the Space Brigade, Topaz, Serena and Joshua were all sitting astride their ShobGobbles at the deserted Honey Sea Wharf. They had left Topaz’s cave at dawn and made their way down the Cloud-Capped Mountain. It was a beautiful morning, and as their ShobGobbles crunched through the snow (quite slowly, because they were laden down with supplies for the day ahead), their moods had been upbeat. Sean and Joshua had made up a stupid song that they all chanted over and over again:

Enrico, Enrico, your day has come!
Enrico, Enrico, get ready to run!
We know all your phobias, every single one!
Enrico, Enrico, your day has come!

‘The rhyme could be improved,’ Greta had commented, but even she had joined in. But their moods had become serious as they all looked silently out at the Honey Sea, which was frozen, like all of Shobble’s seas at this time of year, according to Serena. There was a huge frozen wave just near the wharf. It must have been just about to crash down when the temperatures plummeted and the sea froze. Now it was an incredible, translucent-green ice sculpture.

Sean squinted at something in the distance. ‘What’s that over there?’

There was a cloud of bobbing black dots on the horizon.

‘They’re Enrico’s flags,’ said Topaz. Her face was pale. ‘They’re coming.’

Joshua looked at his watch. ‘I estimate it will take them about two hours to get here.’

‘We’d better get everything ready for the protest march,’ said Nicola.

‘Nobody is coming,’ said Greta emphatically.

‘Of course they’re coming!’ said Katie, but Nicola could tell by the way she was clenching her hands that she was trying hard not to chew at her nails.

‘If nobody comes,’ said Greta, ‘we’ve got no chance of –’

‘Here comes somebody!’ cried Tyler.

They all turned and saw a lone figure walking towards them. The person was struggling under the weight of a gigantic scroll of rose-coloured parchment.

‘It must be that reporter,’ said Topaz. ‘She promised she’d bring the parchment for the petition.’

They all climbed down from their ShobGobbles and hurried over to help her.

Jenny Jenkins beamed at them. She had pinned her hair back from her forehead so her ‘t’ tattoo was clearly visible and she looked ready for action.

‘We’ve got a perfect day for it,’ she said. She looked around. ‘Um, where is everybody?’