Gauge (3 page)

“I don’t know,” said Liz, but her thoughts, like the planets in Gauge’s watch, were steadily whirring. And though she couldn’t see how Gauge could possibly help with it yet, those thoughts kept returning to the problem of saving the library clock.

In the meantime, however, Lucy’s question, “What use is a dragon that times things?” was quickly answered. It soon became apparent that Gauge had an inbuilt desire to learn how to measure anything whatsoever, particularly anything to do with time. He first demonstrated this when he caught sight of the clock on the wall above the door of the kitchen. It was quite an ordinary clock, as clocks go, but the motion of the second hand ticking around seemed to throw the special dragon into a frenzy of delight. He flew out of Liz’s hands and hovered in front of it. He tapped the plastic casing. The clock ticked on. Gauge consulted his watch, as if he were using it as a device to check the clock’s accuracy. Then something extraordinary happened. Gauge put his watch away and hurred at the clock. Suddenly, its two large hands began to spin, faster and faster, until they were just a blur of black lines. At the same time, Gauge was copying the movements with his paws. This continued until the clock hands had spun all the way back to the correct time again. Then it ticked on as if nothing had happened.

Gauge blew a smoke ring and fluttered down onto the kitchen table.

“Mum, what did he just do?” asked Lucy.

Liz ran a finger down the scales on Gauge’s spine, a tickling process all the dragons loved. “I think he just learned to tell the time,” she said. “Earth time, at least.”

“What other time is there?” Lucy asked, wrinkling her nose. She was finding this dragon very puzzling indeed.

Liz just smiled and said, “What time is it, Gauge?”

Gauge stretched his arms and held his paws at the 11:27 position. Perfect, according to the clock.

“Do three o’clock,” said Lucy, just to test him.

His paws swept into the correct places.

“Quarter to seven?”

He was spot on again.

“Midnight?”

He clapped his paws together, high above his head.

Lucy made a slight
hmph
. She put her hands behind her back and leaned forward until her nose was almost touching Gauge’s snout. “Try…my bedtime,” she grinned.

Gauge frowned and looked sideways at Liz.

“That’s not fair. He can’t know that,” said Liz. “Mind you…” She paused a moment and tapped her chin. “Lucy’s bedtime is half past eight in the evening, Gauge. And she’s supposed to be asleep no later than nine.”

The little dragon sat up and blinked his eyes twice, making a sound like a cash register.

“Why did he do that?” asked Lucy. “Why did he make that noise when he blinked?”

“I can’t imagine,” Liz said, trying to stop a crafty smile from showing on her face. “Maybe we’ll find out later, eh? Now, what are we going to do about the library clock?”

“Who cares about the silly library clock?”

“I do. I think we ought to stage a protest.”

Lucy didn’t like the sound of that. At school, Miss Baxter had once told the class about a group of women who had chained themselves to railings because they weren’t allowed to vote in elections. When Lucy had asked, “What happens when you want to go to the toilet, Miss?” her teacher had said with a flourish, “You just go where you are, my dear!” It was all part of the protest, apparently.

“I’m not being chained to any railings,” said Lucy. What if a fly was to land on her nose? Or squirrels hopped up and nipped her ankles? There were lots of squirrels in the gardens next to the library. Besides, if her friends saw her, they would laugh.

“Don’t be silly,” Liz said. “You can hand out leaflets while I walk up and down the library precinct with a sign.”

“It’s Sunday,” Lucy pointed out. “No one will be there, Mum. Anyway, it’s raining.”

Lucy was right about that. The sky had turned a dull grey colour and raindrops were already spattering the windows.

“More time for us to prepare, then,” Liz said.

“Time?” Gauge said, pricking his ears.

“Thirteen o’clock,” said Lucy.

“Don’t tease him,” Liz warned her. “You might regret it.”

“How?” Lucy snorted. “I’m not frightened of a dragon who times things.”

But Liz was right. Later, Lucy did come to regret her words. As the day crept into evening and the time approached 8:30, she was sitting in the lounge reading a comic when Gauge jumped onto her knee and hurred.

“What?” she asked.

He pointed to the ceiling.

“It’s your bedtime,” Liz muttered. “Thank you, Gauge.”

“I haven’t finished my story,” Lucy said grumpily. She lifted her comic again.

Gauge spiked her gently with his tail.

“Ow!” she protested.

“Bedtime,” her mother repeated. She hadn’t even looked up from the book she was reading. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly to tuck you in. And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

Lucy put down her comic and stomped upstairs.

When the door had closed Liz said to Gauge, “Teeth cleaning – two whole minutes.”

Gauge blinked and made the cashing sound. He flew upstairs.

He kept Lucy at the sink until the toothpaste was practically foaming from her mouth. He made certain that she brushed, flossed and swilled out – all of which took precisely two minutes. At nine on the dot, he switched off her light. At eight the next morning, he woke her with a
hrrr
inside her left ear. At breakfast, he timed the perfect boiled egg (three minutes and fifty-eight seconds) and made Lucy chew every mouthful of cornflakes thirty-two times, so that she would not suffer indigestion.

It was driving her mad. “Mum, he’s getting on my nerves,” she said. “I’m going to chain myself to…the toilet if he doesn’t stop timing me!”

“He’s just doing his job,” Liz said. “There, what do you think about that?” She turned round a large sheet of paper. On it was a rhyme:

TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK,

SAVE THE SCRUBBLEY LIBRARY CLOCK!

IF YOU CARE ABOUT OUR TOWN,

JOIN OUR PROTEST!

JOIN IT NOW!

“Yeah, Mum. Dead impressive.”

“I thought so, too,” Liz beamed. “I bet lots of people will join in.”

Lucy chewed her cornflakes. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two. She took another spoonful. “Then what?”

Liz’s green eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “When we’ve got enough people on our side, we’ll take over the library, sit on the floor and lock ourselves in.”

“What?!”

A spit of milk landed on Gauge’s snout. He licked it off with one quick sweep of his tongue.

“Mum, have you gone barmy?”

“It’s important to protect Scrubbley’s traditions, Lucy.”

“But we’ll be arrested! We’ll be in the papers!”

“Mmm, with any luck,” Liz said brightly. “We’ll probably make the front page. Goodness, I’d better go and brush my hair!”

Lucy could not believe it. She was going to be a criminal – at the age of nine! She had been to a police station once before when she was four and she had lost her bike. The police officers had been very kind, then, and given her a lollipop because she had cried. But if her mother’s plans to storm the town library were successful, the police officers would be sure to take a much dimmer view. She would be put into a prison cell and made to eat porridge. Porridge! Yuk! It was horrible stuff. And they would take her photograph – from her worst side! And make her do inky fingerprints. They might even march her off to court. She would have to see a judge and try not to laugh at his funny wig. It was hopeless. She might be sent to prison for years. All for the sake of a silly clock!

She frowned at Gauge. He was sitting on her bedroom table in front of her, timing her doing her homework. She was supposed to spend half an hour at the weekend on her school cookery project. This week it was a recipe for soup. Lucy had come up with the idea of bacon soup, because she blamed Mr Bacon for telling her mother about the library clock in the first place. The project wasn’t going well. She looked at Miss Baxter’s notes.
Your soup should make the taste buds tingle whilst still being nutritious. Do not be afraid to experiment with your ingredients!
So far, Lucy’s list of ingredients were water and bacon. It didn’t sound very tingling at all.