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They had already decided on a story. The truth would
not do, but something close to it was safe enough, and
anyway, it generally paid to stick as close to the truth
as possible. Michael sat quietly while Lea explained
how he had walked her home the previous evening, and
they had seen the lightening strike the tree in the
park, and they had sought shelter from the rain, and
ended up by the hedge, and then the flashing lights
in the Professor's house caught their attention and
that was how they came to see the policemen."
The Professor listened carefully. "Police?"
he asked, with evident concern. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Police."
"Yes," Lea confirmed. "We wanted to
warn you."
The Professor nodded. "Well. Thank you. I'm very
grateful." He stood up and moved to the door. "Goodbye."
Lea was astonished. This was not going according to
their plan.
"Professor," Michael began.
"What is it?" His manner was distracted now.
His thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"Professor, what were the flashing lights that
we saw?"
"Probably the television set."
"And the humming sound?
"The television set."
"A TV that hums?"
"Needs a repair. Terrible Japanese thing. I should
never have bought it."
"And the boarded up windows?"
He looked at them through eyes that were starting to
narrow.
"Someone broke in last week. They stole my watch.
Shame they didn't steal the television set."
"And the Police?"
"How should I know? That's your story."
"And all these thunder storms?"
"What?"
"And power cuts?"
He squinted, first at Lea and then back at Michael.
"What do they have to do with me?"
"They're always right next to your house. Isn't
that a bit of a coincidence?"
"Must be." He swung his arm in the direction
of the front door. "I think you should leave."
"Professor," said Lea. "Have you seen
the park?"
"No. Why?"
"It looks like it was bombed."
"Does it really? Have you called the Town Hall?"
He moved out into the hallway and, reluctantly, they
followed.
"Thank you for calling. Please do stop by again
if you're in the neighbourhood. Well, young Lea it was
nice to see you and, errr," he peered at Michael
and searched for his name. "And your friend. Sorry
about the toffee apple. Goodbye."
By this time they were on the doorstep outside. With
evident relief the Professor grabbed the door and moved
to close it. The hinge squeaked again, but this time
the squeak was masked almost entirely by the brief but
unmistakable sound of an explosion from somewhere inside
the house.
The Professor grimaced. "Got to go," he said,
very abruptly, and slammed the door.
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