The Monster of Shiversands Cove Read Free Page B

it senses danger.
    So . . . could it be part fish, part mammal and part reptile? Was that possible? Maybe it was even a
mutant
, a giant mutant. It could be. It could be some kind of freaky creature, caused by all the muck us humans keep dumping in the sea.
    I just did
not
know. All I knew was this. Whatever it was, it was a
big
shock, seeing something that huge, that weird, leaping out of the water.
    And next morning – more shocks were in store.
    * * *
    Next morning, Dad arranged for Magnus to do a morning’s fairy taming with Claudia, then he set off across the beach with me. We were heading for an arrow-shaped signpost at the bottom of the cliff path, with writing on it which read:
    TO LIGHTSANDS BAY
    The cliff path was steep and rocky. It wound higher and higher and higher, round the side of our cove and up to the headland. I stared as we climbed. I stared left, right and far out to sea, but there was no sign of the whale thing. I couldn’t see it anywhere. Shame. I wanted Dad to see it, to find out what he thought it was.
    We puffed our way up to the top, then stopped. We looked all around us: at the big views, at Shiversands Cove behind us and at the island far below. It was a dark and craggy island with just one small building huddled on the rocks.
    Tide Island,’ said Dad, pointing. ‘We can walk to it across the sand at low tide.’ Well, we couldn’t walk to it now. The only way out to it was over the rickety bridge, stretching from the edge ofour cove. Apart from that, it was surrounded by water, completely cut off.
    â€˜Tides are very big around here,’ said Dad. ‘That end of Tide Island, the end nearest our cove, it’ll all be sand at low tide.’
    I know about tides. It’s the moon that makes them happen. Twice every day, the moon slowly pushes the sea right up the beach and then slowly pushes it back down again. Right now, the moon had pushed the tide almost as high as it could go.
    We walked on along the headland, and then, ahead of us, far below, there was Lightsands Bay. It was a much bigger bay than our cove with a long sandy beach, wide and curving, with a hilly sort of seaside town stretching up behind it.
    There were steep winding streets, all cobbled and narrow, with houses squashed either side, painted pale seaside colours.
    A promenade stretched above the beach, the whole way along it. On the promenade there was a lady dressed as a lobster, I have no idea why.
    The lobster lady was handing out leaflets. ‘Join in the fun and festivities!’ she said, pincers wobbling. Then, she gave Dad a leaflet.

    Now, the lobster lady was peering closely at Dad, pincers wobbling even more.
    Oh no. I knew what was about to happen.
    It did.
    â€˜Mr Wizzywoz!’ she gasped.
    Mr Wizzywoz is my dad. He’s a kiddie entertainer, with his own show on tv and a
lot
of fans among the under-fives. He spends his time dancing about dressed in baggy green trousers, with a big red nose and a wizardy sort of hat. Hegoes on wizardy adventures, sings wizardy songs, does magic tricks, acrobatics, unicycling, juggling, balloon animals . . . You name it, Dad does it.
    When I was small, I liked Dad being Mr Wizzywoz but
not
now. I keep nagging Dad to get a normal job and be like other mums and dads: to get a grown-up job like a teacher or a doctor. But he never does.
    Mum’s just as bad. She does acting as her job and she was acting this week. She was being filmed for TV, running about in a big green costume pretending she was an alien and attacking other actors who were pretending they were time travellers.
    Dad and the lobster lady got chatting and I had a horrible feeling I knew what would happen next.
    It did.
    The lobster lady asked Dad to do a turn as Mr Wizzywoz at the Lightsands Bay Festival, down on the beach, on Saturday. I felt my heart sink. Why did I have to have Mr Wizzywoz for a dad? It was just
embarrassing
. Still, at least no one