Chapter 7: The Nine O'Clock News
On the morning of the twenty-third of December, Fleur was standing in the living room, admiring the Christmas tree and tweaking a decoration here and there. Her mind, however, was next door—wandering through the living room of the "House of the Winds," imagining how she would help Anemo decorate his own tree alongside the furry ones. If it were up to her, she would have knocked on his door ages ago. But "that’s just not done, that's what Mum says!" the tufted-haired girl thought to herself. "If only she knew how many times I’ve scrambled straight over the fence first thing in the morning..."
—Fleur, you’ve barely eaten a thing again! her mum’s voice called out from the kitchen.
—Leave her be, she’s only got eyes for the writer gentleman and his cats, her dad said. I told her she could knock on his door at nine, but not a minute sooner.
Fleur checked her little pink wristwatch again. Exactly nine o'clock. She quickly threw a jacket over her shoulders and, with one foot already out the door, shouted:
—Mum, Dad, I'm off! Don't expect me back too soon, I’ve got loads to do!
Outside, standing in front of the door at number forty-nine, she took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell, holding it down. Nothing. She picked up the bronze knocker shaped like a lion's head and rapped three times, hard. Nothing. The little girl took a few steps over to the living room window facing the street. Pressing her little nose against the cold glass, she tried to catch a glimpse of movement—any movement at all—inside. But everything looked exactly as it had two days ago, when she had personally watched the professor leave with the furry ones to go and meet Anemo and Miss Remi.
Just as she was getting ready to ring the bell again, a flutter of wings caught her attention. It was Gogo, the nosy and cheeky pigeon whom nobody really noticed anymore ever since the incident with the alcohol-soaked cherries, when he had insulted Noel’s little dog.
—Hey, tufty! Gogo shouted, settling onto a branch of the Japanese cherry tree that grew between number forty-seven and number forty-nine. No point ringing, there’s nobody home.
—Do you know something, Gogo? Spill the beans!
—I’ve literally just come from over there! Gogo replied, pointing a wing towards the even-numbered side of the street.
—Gogo, I haven't got time for your jokes! Where are Anemo and the furry ones?
—Hold your horses, I'm telling you. I heard the professor on the phone talking to someone called Sherad or Shaizad...
—Shehrazad! the tufted-haired girl corrected him. That’s the lady I saw on FaceTime, the professor’s colleague from Cairo.
—Whatever you say... The man was absolutely furious. He was saying something about a cave and that "the children are lost in time". That's exactly how I heard him say it... Honest to God! He also mentioned something about a message in the "omen" alphabet and said he’s heading to the airport today to pick up that Shazad lady.
The pigeon ruffled his wings and puffed out his chest, bursting with pride. He finally had a chance to make peace with the tufted-haired girl, and maybe even win Sirocco back over to his side. He had absolutely no idea that the phrase "lost in time" actually included the little ginger ball of fur as well.
***
With two little teardrops glistening in the corners of her eyes, and her heart fluttering like a frightened little bird, Fleur rang the doorbell at number forty-two.
Mrs Aura opened the door, looking noticeably pale, her eyes red from crying. The moment she saw the little young lady on the verge of tears, she pulled her into a hug without saying a word.
Inside, the professor was pacing up and down the hallway and the kitchen while talking on the phone—exactly the way Anemo, and more recently his own wife, always did. He motioned for them to come in.
Aura and the little tufted-haired girl cried together for a while, but then they began to comfort each other. Since there was a message written in the Ogham alphabet (not "omen", as Gogo had misheard), there was still hope.
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