'Shimlara, maybe you should wear your baseball cap,' hissed Nicola. 'So you don't get sunburned.'
'Oh, I quite like a tan,' said Shimlara.
'No, I really think you should,' said Nicola meaningfully.
Shimlara blinked. She was obviously reading Nicola's mind. She said, 'Oh yes! Good idea!' She grabbed her cap from her backpack and put it on so that only the smooth tresses falling over her shoulders were visible.
The red-haired man came up to Shimlara and bowed low. 'I am Philippe. It will be my pleasure to be your pilot for today. They've forecast a minor hurricane so it might be a bit bumpy at times, but don't worry, I have plenty of experience. Now, I believe you also have some guests?' He looked around for the guests as if the rest of the Space Brigade was invisible.
'Yes,' said Shimlara. 'These are my friends, Nicola, Sean, Tyler and Greta.'
'These are your friends?' said Philippe disbelievingly. Then he smiled as if he'd worked it out. 'So you're a charity worker! How inspiring! Well, if you and your "friends" would like to climb aboard, we'll be off in a jiffy.'
He helped Shimlara climb into the basket, holding her elbow as if she was a delicate old lady.
'How are we going to get rid of him?' whispered Sean as they crowded in behind Shimlara. Not surprisingly, Philippe didn't bother to help the non-hairities.
'I've got an idea,' Shimlara replied under her breath. She grabbed her ear and looked panic-stricken. 'Oh, no! I've lost a very expensive, irreplaceable diamond earring with sentimental value! Philippe, will you see if I've dropped it on the ground over there?'
; Philippe had been just about to climb into the basket with them.
'Of course,' he said immediately.
'I think I dropped it way, way over there.' Shimlara pointed vaguely into the distance.
Philippe obediently scurried off in the direction she was pointing.
'Hey!' called out someone in the crowd. 'What's happening to the hairity's hair?'
Nicola saw that Shimlara's tresses were fast becoming curls and tendrils. The heat from the balloon must have been making her sweat. And sweat, Nicola knew from her mother, was the enemy of straightened hair.
'She's not a hairity at all!' cried someone else. 'She's a fake! Her hair is curly.'
Philippe turned back to look at Shimlara. He froze in horror.
'Time to get out of here!' said Sean. He produced the big bread knife he'd brought from home and lunged for the ropes that were keeping them tethered to the ground.
Philippe's face turned tomato red. 'I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING NOT RIGHT ABOUT YOU! YOU'RE JUST A LOT OF DIRTY COMMONERS! GET OUT OF MY BALLOON NOW!'
Tyler was bent over the balloon's burner muttering urgently to himself.
Philippe came running back and grabbed for the edge of the basket. Sean used the knife to slice through another rope and the balloon lurched sideways. Philippe jumped again and this time he managed to grab hold of the side of the basket.
'Excuse me, we are not dirty commoners!' screamed Greta (although she didn't sound exactly lady-like, Nicola noted). She took off her shoe and used it to bang hard at Philippe's fingers.
'OW!' Philippe released his hand and toppled to the ground just as Sean cut the final rope.
At the same time Tyler said, 'Aha!' and turned a control on the burner. There was a hiss and a burst of hot air.
The hot-air balloon floated straight up into the sky.
27
There was no sound at all.
They were floating silently through the arch of a rainbow. It was like flying through a tunnel of shimmering colour. The fabric of the balloon fluttered gently in the breeze. The basket swayed softly.