Twelve.  Nick.

They had reached the edge of the forest. Nick had told Elly everything that had happened last night, and how Tink had appeared and made a poultice; before suddenly disappearing when they were in the lane.

“Maybe he’s a tramp, they sometimes camp in the forest,” said Elly.
“Perhaps, there was something odd about him though. He said he’d been called lots of different names over the years.”
“Well, maybe we’ll see him today; I’d like to thank him. What did you want to show me anyway?”

Nick smiled, “You’ll see, you’re definitely going to like it.”
“Nicholas King, if you’ve bought me here to play one of your silly jokes…”
“No, of course I haven’t. Look, I’ve said I’m sorry about teasing you; I didn’t realise what a prat I was being. I didn’t think about how you were feeling, it was meant to be a laugh.”
“At my expense. And those two idiots you hang around with, were they having a laugh too last night?”

Nick felt his cheeks burn, she really had a knack of making him feel small. “I’m sorry about them too; I didn’t want you to get hurt. They went way too far last night, and I’ll make sure they realise that when I catch up with them.”
Elly looked at him, she seemed to be considering whether she could trust him or not.

“I suppose you think I can forgive you just like that and we can be friends?”
“Well, I’m not asking you to be my girl-friend; we’ve only just started talking to each other!”

Nick could have bit off his tongue; where had that come from? And he was blushing again; he certainly wasn’t acting cool at the moment. But to Nick’s relief Elly burst out laughing.
“I think being friends is quite enough, thanks. You’re not really my type!”

They were right on the edge of the forest now and Nick signalled for Elly to be quiet.

They crept closer to where the workmen were gathered; the protestors were singing happily and Clifford was shouting at his foreman, Evans.

“Don’t give me excuses, where is my machinery?”
“I don’t know Mr Clifford, it arrived last night; it was here when I left. The site was secure, the police had moved that lot,” he gestured towards the protestors, “there was no-one here except the night-watchman.”
“He was probably drunk or asleep; somebody has come in here and stolen my machinery. I want answers Evans; this is costing me time and money. Where is the night-watchman? I want to speak to him.”

A man built like a body-builder came forward, looking decidedly unhappy about it.
“This is Briggs Mr Clifford,” said Evans. “He was on duty last night.”
“So what happened, where are my diggers? Where are the vans and all the tools?”
“I don’t know Mr Clifford, I made my rounds every half hour like I’d been told. They were there at eleven-thirty; when I checked again at twelve, everything was gone.”
“And where were you for that half-hour between rounds, asleep?”
“No Mr Clifford, I was in the cabin having a brew. I never heard anything, it was as quiet as you like.”
Clifford stamped his foot like a small child, “someone is going to pay for this,” he snarled.

Nick and Elly moved away so they could talk without being overheard.
“What’s happened,” asked Elly. “Who’s stolen the diggers?”
“I don’t know, Clifford came round to see my father this morning. They were in the study but Clifford was shouting so loudly I could hear every word. I saw the diggers arriving last night; they were making loads of noise, smoke everywhere. I don’t know how the night-watchman didn’t hear anything.”
“Maybe he was asleep.”
“Maybe, but the weird thing is there’s only one set of tracks. Those diggers were tearing up the ground, leaving really clear tracks. But there are no tracks coming back out, it’s like they’ve vanished into thin air, like magic.”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” said Elly.
“Aint there lass, now who told ya that?” said a voice behind them.
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