Inkheart Read Free Page B

hem of its garment. The alarm clock said just before five, and Meggie was going to turn over and go back to sleep when she suddenly sensed someone else in the room. Startled, she sat up and saw Mo standing by her open closet door.
    "Hello," he said, putting her favorite sweater in a suitcase. "I'm sorry, I know it's very early, but we have to leave. How about cocoa for breakfast?"
    Still drowsy with sleep, Meggie nodded. Outside, the birds were twittering loudly as if they'd been awake for hours. Mo put two more pairs of jeans in her suitcase, closed it, and carried it to the door. "Wear something warm," he said. "It's chilly outside."
    "Where are we going?" asked Meggie, but he had already disappeared. She looked out of the window, feeling confused. She almost expected to see Dustfinger, but there was only a blackbird in the yard hopping over the stones, which were wet after the rain. Meggie put on her jeans and stumbled into the kitchen. Two suitcases, a traveling bag, and Mo's toolbox stood out in the hall.
    Her father was sitting at the kitchen table making sandwiches for the journey. When she came into the kitchen he looked up briefly and smiled at her, but Meggie could see he was worried about something. "Mo, we can't go away now!" she said. "The school holidays don't start for another week!"
    "Well, it won't be the first time I've had to go away on business during the school term."
    He was right about that. In fact, he went away quite often, whenever an antique dealer, a book collector, or a library needed a bookbinder and commissioned Mo to restore a few valuable old books, freeing them of dust and mold or dressing them in new clothes, as he put it. Meggie didn't think the word bookbinder described Mo's work particularly well, and a few years ago she had made him a sign to hang on his workshop door saying MORTIMER FOLCHART, BOOK DOCTOR.
    And the book doctor never called on his patients without taking his daughter, too. They had always done that and they always would, never mind what Meggie's teachers said.
    "How about chicken pox? Have I used that excuse already?"
    "Yes, last time. When we had to go and see that dreary man with the Bibles." Meggie scrutinized her father's face. "Mo. Is it. . is it because of last night we have to leave?"
    For a moment she thought he was going to tell her everything — whatever there was to tell. But then he shook his head. "No, of course not," he said, putting the sandwiches he had made into a plastic bag. "Your mother has an aunt called Elinor. We visited her once, when you were very small. She's been wanting me to come and put her books in order for a long time. She lives 11

    beside a lake in the north of Italy, I always forget which lake, but it's a lovely place, a day's drive away." He did not look at her as he spoke.
    Meggie wanted to ask: But why do we have to go now? But she didn't. Nor did she ask if he had forgotten that he was meeting someone at midday. She was too afraid of the answers — and she didn't want Mo to lie to her again.
    "Is this aunt as peculiar as the others?" was all she said. Mo had already taken her to visit various relations. Both he and Meggie's mother had large families whose homes, so far as Meggie could see, were scattered over half of Europe.
    Mo smiled. "Yes, she is a bit peculiar, but you'll get along with her all right. She has some really wonderful books."
    "So how long are we going to be away?"
    "It could be quite some time."
    Meggie sipped her cocoa. It was so hot she burned her lips and had to quickly press the cold blade of a knife to her mouth.
    Mo pushed his chair back. "I have to pack a few more things from the workshop," he said. "It won't take long. You must be very tired, but you can sleep once we're in the van."
    Meggie just nodded and looked out of the kitchen window. It was a gray morning. Mist drifted over the fields at the foot of the nearby hills, and Meggie felt as if the shadows of the night were still hiding among the