
“Uncle? Where are Molly and Lucy?”
“In the priest hole. Why aren't you out fighting the hun?”
“The hun? That war was over a long time ago. The one out there's a golem.”
“But I saw it on telly last week. Looked just like that one. There was a war on and everything.”
“There's always a war on somewhere, Uncle. In the mean time I want you to help Gillian stall the golem while I fetch Lucy.”
“You're leaving a sinking ship?”
“Uncle Frederick, much as I love you I don't have time to debate the symantics of metaphor. This is neither a ship nor is it sinking. I need Lucy because I believe she is the only one of us who actually has a hope of defeating the thing outside.”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“I don't know. Scramble its sensors or something.”
“And how do I do that? Gillian said it's not electronic.”
“Well..” Harold held his hands up hopelessly. “Just give it a go,”
“I can't promise anything, Harold, but I'll try.”
“You always manage to disrupt the television when I'm watching it.” Harold set off at a half-run. “I'll be as quick as I can.”
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