Who is it this early? wondered Freddie.

    Munching the Snickers, he sauntered into the hallway and opened the front door.

    As he did so, a gust of wind blew in, riffling the pages of a telephone directory that lay on a nearby table.

    He peered out.  But all he could see, dancing at his feet, was a tiny dust devil and a little eddy of dried, brown, autumn leaves.  There was no one at the door and no one on the path that led from the house to the street. He stepped outside.  Looked about.  Checked the bushes along the side of the house.

    There wasn’t a soul anywhere.

    And then he noticed the sky. It was full of thunder-clouds threatening rain. The weather had turned far earlier than he’d expected. The air was chilly. Goosebumps suddenly ran down his arms.  The hairs on the back of his neck bristled and stood on end.

    He knew the signs. They meant that his intuition was on High Alert. It was telling him … something isn’t quite right here.

    Glancing over his shoulder, he stepped back inside and shut the door. Then opened it again very quickly …
   
    Nothing.

    He shrugged, slammed the door shut and stuffed the last bit of Snickers in his mouth.  He stood for a moment, enjoying the delicious sweet stickiness oozing between his teeth, wondering if he’d imagined the knocking.  Not only was he suffering from hurricane-paranoia, now he was hearing things too …   

    “Hey! Weatherman! Let’s get this show on the road!” 

    … including, it seemed, strange voices. 

    He looked around. Blinked. Opened his eyes. The hallway was completely empty. Yep, he was definitely losing it. Big Time.

    “Oh, sorry, hang on a minute,” said the voice. It was closer this time, though he couldn’t pinpoint the source exactly.

     But there definitely was a voice. He wasn’t imagining it. There was only one problem. The voice wasn’t attached to anything, like voices were supposed to be. A body, for instance.

    And then he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye.  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the air in front of him began to shimmer and shift, rippling in tiny pulsating waves, like a mirage in a desert.

    To his amazement, the hazy outline of a face started form a few feet away from where he stood. A nose emerged first, followed by a mouth, and, finally, two big,  blue, watery eyes.  The face seemed unable to keep still for very long and kept drifting off, first one way, and then the other, before eventually settling in a position that it seemed completely happy with.

    It shook itself a couple of times, growing more visible as it did so, until, at last, its features were fully-formed. 

    Freddie was dumbstruck. There it was. A big Smiley face. Hovering in the middle of the hallway. He’d heard that you saw things like this if you took drugs.

    But he’d never indulged.  What was going on?
   
    A huge grin spread across the face. “Is that better?” it asked.

    “Nuh,” said Freddie.  He couldn’t think of what else to say.

    "Good. I’m a wind, ” it said.

    “Nuh,” said Freddie.
   
    “Didn’t get you out of bed, did I? You look a bit stressed out. Probably all that hurricane business. Sorry, wait just a tick.”

    As Freddie watched, speechless, the creature’s body – which was really more like a tail – slid out from under the floaty face and flopped onto the floor, twisting and turning like an eel. Soon, it stretched the entire length of the hallway.  It occurred to Freddie that it looked like the tail of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  Except that it was transparent and had things tumbling about inside it. He could clearly see leaves, twigs, a broken spider’s web, a couple of chocolate-bar wrappers, pages of an old newspaper and a very surprised frog.  It was seriously hacked off. It looked up at him wide-eyed and croaked, obviously disgruntled.

    Then, suddenly, the T.Rex tail twitched and all the stuff fell into a heap on the floor.
   
    The wind-thing looked down at the mess apologetically.

     “Sorry about that. Just a few things I picked up on my way here. ”

    Freddie watched as the frog, sensing that this was a good time to make his escape, hopped off along the corridor. It was an excellent idea. Freddie was thinking that maybe he should do the same thing. He tried to take a step forward, but found that he couldn’t move. His feet seemed glued to the floor. Also, his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. And his heart was beating twenty-to-the-dozen.

      He was in shock.

     “Nuh,” he said.

    The wind smiled. Or seemed to. It was difficult to tell, really, since it was a wind. A wind? Weird, thought Freddie, trying to take in the idea, before it peered at him and asked: “Shall we have the discussion now? Or later? Whichever suits you.  I’d suggest later because time is short and we really ought to be leaving a.s.a.p. But if you’d prefer now, I quite understand.”

    “What discussion?” Freddie blurted out.

    “You know … I say: ‘ I’m a wind.’ And then you say: ‘A wind? That’s not possible! A wind can’t talk!’ And I say: ‘Actually I can,’ and so on. You get the picture.”

    “Let’s have it now,” said Freddie, “ That wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

    “No problem.  I must say you’re taking this rather well. Some people freak out totally when I appear like that in mid-air. But then, you are a Weatherman.”

    “A what?”

    “A Weatherman,” said the face. It looked puzzled. “This is 4 Sycamore Close, isn't it?”
   
    Freddie nodded.

    “And you are Freddie McBain? The Freddie McBain?”

    Freddie nodded again.

    “Just checking,” said the wind, breathing out a long sigh of relief, causing a gentle draught that ruffled Freddie’s hair. “Thought I’d got lost. I should really get myself a GPS system. It would make life so much easier. Shall we be off then?” it said, moving closer to him.
   
    “I’m not going anywhere!” exclaimed Freddie, stepping back in alarm.

    The wind looked concerned. “Are you about to freak out?”  it asked.

    “I will if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Freddie replied. And then a thought struck him. “I’ve got it. Cap’s behind this, isn’t he? I mean, this is a joke, right?”

    “Cap? Is that your friend with the baseball cap I’ve seen you hanging out with?  Always got his mobile glued to his ear? No,” said the face, floating off slightly to the left before straightening itself up again. “Nothing to do with him.”

    “You’ve seen me with my mates?” asked Freddie, astounded.
   
    “I am a wind, " said the wind. "I get around quite a bit."

    A shimmering smile appeared on his face. "Perhaps I should introduce myself. The name’s Sirocco.  You may have heard of me. From North Africa originally. One small, humble wind amongst the many that criss-cross the planet. Bit old to be doing much zooming around these days, though.  Mind you, I’ve picked up quite a few Air Miles in my time.”

    A smirk crossed his wobbly face. “That’s a wind joke, by the way.”

    Freddie didn’t react. 

    “Oh, never mind,” shrugged Sirocco, floating off to the right.

    But, amazingly, Freddie could see that, sure enough, there were deep creases on Sirocco’s face.

    Winds grew old and got wrinkles? And they had a sense of humour?

    Getting his head around all this wasn’t going to be easy.

    “Oh, come on,” he said.  “A wind is something you can’t see and it certainly can’t talk.”

    “See? I knew you’d say that!” replied Sirocco, jiggling up and down excitedly, before fixing Freddie with his huge blue eyes.

    “You’ve heard the wind whistling in the trees sometimes, haven’t you?” he asked.

     “True. I’ve always loved that sound,” Freddie said.

    “Then perhaps you can also accept that it may have a voice,” continued Sirocco.  “That it has energy and power and moves of its own volition, like a living thing. Not too difficult a concept, is it? You already know this. You’ve been thinking exactly the same thing about your killer hurricane, haven’t you? “

    Now how did he know that?

    Sirocco caught Freddie's puzzled expression.

    “ Causing a bit of bother up there in Florida, isn’t he?  People are very worried. They should be. He and his kind are a menace.  But, together, we'll sort out his nonsense. Won't we?”

    "Er, right," said Freddie, doubtfully. "No problem."

    Sirocco let out a little chuckle.

    “I know this all comes as a bit of a surprise. Shall we go through to the kitchen and talk? It’ll be more comfortable.”

    Sirocco turned and headed off into the kitchen.  Hesitantly, Freddie followed.  This is totally mad, he thought to himself. But, oddly, a strange feeling that he’d met Sirocco before began niggling him. Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on where or when. 

    Sirocco curled his tail around a chair and pulled it out from the kitchen table.

     “There you go,” he said. “I’d sit down too, except I’d sink right through the chair.  Bit undignified. I’ll stand. Swirl, rather.” 

     He began circling curiously around the kitchen, creating a draught that rattled tins and jars and utensils with invisible fingers. Freddie watched him closely, more intrigued then ever. There was a question he was itching to ask. 

     “Why did you call me ‘Weatherman’?” he said, finally.

    Sirocco was floating above the sink, looking down disapprovingly at a stack of dirty dishes. “Because you are one, of course,” he said, peering at a plate smeared with 3 day-old baked bean sauce. “Gross! Don’t you and your mother ever do the washing up?

    Freddie shrugged. “Not if we can help it. You were saying?”

    “You’re a Weatherman. I don’t mean like the ones who do the weather on TV. They’re not even in your league. The weather and the elements are part of your soul. You have given them long study. You love them. Your heart glows when it is sunny. Your bones shiver to the marrow when it is cold.  You make predictions. Rather good ones. In fact, some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

    Freddie felt himself flush. “Really?”

    Sirocco chuckled. “Oh, yes.  You’re a natural. It has always been this way. Since you were a child.”

    “How do you know all this?  You talk like you’ve known me for years.”

    “I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on you for some time now,” Sirocco replied, blowing open a cupboard door and peering inside. “Hmmm. Mr Muscle doesn’t visit this kitchen often, does he?" He turned to Freddie.  "Cast your mind back for a moment. You remember when your mother took you to Brighton on that day trip when you were small?”

    “Vaguely. I was just a toddler. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

    “I was hovering above the pier, watching you make sand castles with your bucket and spade. Then, when you weren't looking,  I zoomed down and stirred up a few waves to wash them away."

    “I remember!” said Freddie. “I spent ages making them. I bawled my eyes out. Why would you do that?  I was only a kid!”

    “I’m sorry.  It was just a little game. To test your resilience. I observed how you rebuilt the castles. You may have been upset. But you were defiant and strong. You weathered the storm. Precisely the qualities we need right now. You see, I knew I’d have to come and collect you some day. That day has come.”

    He turned and glanced anxiously at the kitchen clock.

    “Is that the time? Dear me. Look at us, standing here chatting! We should be going. Straightaway. Everyone’s waiting. They’ll be worried.”

    “Going?  Going where?”

    “Why, to save the world, of course,” replied Sirocco, as if it was completely obvious.  “Sorry, didn’t I mention it?”