The Tunnels Below by Nadine Wild-Palmer (have you read this book .txt) 📗

watch so much. And boy-oh-boy, did the two of them scrub up nicely. Cecilia stood before her friend in a dress of patchwork lace; Mrs Hoots must’ve been collecting the scraps and stitching patterns for decades. Tiny pieces of tinfoil and sequins, the odd pearl and diamanté; there were remnants of chocolate-bar wrappers and, well, anything that sparkled in what little light there was had been sewn into each section like faded stars; the dress looked like a morning just before daybreak. Luke wore a midnight-blue suit jacket and a pair of patchwork trousers in different shades of dark green. He had a T-shirt with the collar of an old shirt sewn onto it, and his tufty hair was arranged neatly over the antlers on his head. “You look wicked, Luke. You could be, like, twenty years old or something! I definitely wouldn’t ask you for ID!” Cecilia said with mountains of excitement.

Luke laughed. He managed to spit out the words “Nice dress” in return and Mrs Hoots clapped.

“Here you go,” said Mrs Hoots as she handed Cecilia a small rucksack designed and stitched in a similar way to her dress.

“Oh, now this is cool. My friends would be super jealous.” She beamed.

“What friends?” teased Luke.

“It matches and it’s practical!” Cecilia folded all her belongings neatly in her rucksack, checking she still had everything: the marble, her remaining Cherry Drops, an Oyster card, a handful of buttons, a ten-pence piece and the papers Jasper had made her, as well as the programme from the Ride or Sigh competition. In the meantime, Mrs Hoots added a tinfoil bow tie to Luke’s look.

“Thank you for everything, Mrs Hoots. I feel like a million bucks… I mean, buttons!” Cecilia said chirpily.

Luke picked up his old trousers and took out a handful of brass buttons and gave them to Mrs Hoots, who smiled with gratitude.

“My pleasure, darlings,” she replied.

“Yeah, cheers, Mrs Hoots!” He picked up his hoody and jeans and stuffed them in Cecilia’s bag.

“Urgh,” she remarked, refolding them properly and putting the rucksack on her back.

“Wait! Just one more thing,” Mrs Hoots said as they made to leave for the colourful lights of the lanes. “You’ll need these.” She handed them both a pair of gorgeous jet-black wings. She looked like a proud mother. “And my work here is done!”

“These wings,” said Cecilia, admiring them. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yes, they’re exquisite, I know.” Mrs Hoots flattered herself.

“Why do we need them?” asked Cecilia, looking up at Mrs Hoots standing by the door.

“Usually I’m all about trying to look your best and stand out from the crowd…” Mrs Hoots approached them and gathered them both into a huddle, Luke under one wing and Cecilia under the other. “But you never know when you might need to fit in.”

“Right,” said Luke. “A tad cryptic.”

“Now scoot! The work is never done for Mrs Hoots!”

“Thanks again, Mrs Hoots!” said Cecilia.

Luke and Cecilia looked completely different to when they first entered the shop. They were filled with confidence and walked with a proud bop in their steps. Cecilia turned to Luke, smiling, and asked, “Right, where do we go now?”

“Hold on a sec, I’ve got an idea. Stay put!” Luke bolted into the crowd. Cecilia tried to follow but her dress slowed her down. She called out, “Luke! Where are you going?”

He was back in a flash and he replied, “To get that guy!” he said, pointing to a dog-face walking slowly towards them with a sad look about him. The dog-faced chap looked very sorry for himself indeed and Cecilia tried to work out what was going on. He had wisps of coarse brown and white hair all over him, a stubby snout-like brown nose, big pointy triangular ears, hazel eyes, and a red cravat and a name badge that read WILLOW.

“Where to then, you lot?” he grumbled.

Cecilia paused a moment, looked at his heavy shag-pile rug and whispered in Luke’s ear: “Luke, I thought we needed the sighs to ride? I think this guy is a bit loopy.”

“You’ll see,” said Luke as the old dog flicked out the rug and laid it on the ground. Under the back end there was a small black box that looked like a tape deck. He flicked a button and the sound of sighs began murmuring below the machine. A little cloud of blue and violet began to hang around the carpet and they were ready to go.

“Oh, it’s like a taxi!” Cecilia clapped and giggled, climbing onto the back.

“It doesn’t go very fast,” said Luke. “Recorded sighs don’t have quite the same power, especially now Zephira has moved on, but at least he’ll get us to where we are meant to be. Anyway, it’s not far. Just thought it would be fun to arrive in style!”

“OK, where to, cowboy?” said the old dog-face.

“El Porto Fino, please, sir,” said Cecilia and Luke excitedly.

“Might have guessed, the way you two are dressed. You’ll turn a few heads for sure! Lovely. El Porto Fino it is then. Toot-toot!” And off they went with a lot of huffing and puffing to fuel the way. It didn’t take long but on the way Luke pointed out the sights.

A bright lime green, pink and blue neon light shouted EL PORTO FINO above a crowd gathering outside; people buzzed around the entrance in their finery. Cecilia was certainly glad they had got dressed up and she glanced down at herself to check that she hadn’t already messed up her dress. In the old days she’d usually be covered in jam or glue or toothpaste by now and her teachers always had something to say about that! Luke paid the old dog-face, who barely paused before gliding on and shouting back, “Don’t want to run out of steam! There’s still life in the old dog yet!”

As they drew nearer to the entrance Cecilia felt butterflies in her stomach. What if they didn’t turn heads, what if they didn’t get in? All this trouble would be for nothing!

“Oi, numb-nut, snap