Rugby Flyer

by Gerard Siggins

  Dylan stopped, not sure whether to smile or not. He had been so convinced it was a mean trick that he had never considered that it might be true.

  ‘Let’s check it out,’ said Eoin. ‘Come in here and we’ll ring the Munster branch.’

  They dialled the number on the letter and a nice lady answered the call. Dylan explained who he was and how he wasn’t sure if the letter he had received was a hoax.

  The receptionist asked him to wait and returned a minute later, laughing, to say that the letter was genuine and that he was to send a reply today.

  Eoin grinned and patted him on the head. ‘And you from County Louth – I wonder do they know that at all?’

  CHAPTER 4

  The friends threw themselves into rugby practice with renewed energy, going through drills they had learned in school from early morning until it was too dark to see anymore. Eoin wore out the instep on his right boot with the number of kicks at goal he took.

  One afternoon during a rare break in training they lay on the grass, staring up at the clouds drifting past.

  ‘It’s gas, isn’t it, that we’re going to be doing the same thing but for different teams on opposite sides of the country at the same time?’ said Dylan. ‘I wonder is this leading to some sort of interpro Under 15 competition. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

  ‘Nah, the Munster lads wouldn’t be let near Dublin in case they got frightened by all the traffic,’ laughed Eoin.

  ‘Have your laugh, Eoin,’ grinned Dylan, ‘but at least I’ll be able to wear my red Munster shirt with pride around Ormondstown after the weekend. You’ll have to put yours in the back of the wardrobe for ever more. Don’t even think of wearing that blue one around the town!’

  Eoin’s face fell. Dylan was right. He started to think how much easier it would have been if Munster had called him up. He loved the red jersey that his grandfather had bought him which, although it was getting a little tight, he wore more often than any other item of clothing he owned.

  He didn’t have much time to worry about what he would be wearing that autumn, though, as they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

  ‘Hey, lads, you don’t look like you’re training that hard. I wonder would Leinster give me a trial too.’

  Dylan and Eoin clambered to their feet to greet their best friend from Castlerock College.

  ‘Alan!’ they shouted together. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Eoin’s mum appeared at their friend’s shoulder.

  ‘Alan’s mum rang me last week and said he was a bit bored with the summer and suggested we take it in turns to host you all for a few days’ sleepovers. I thought I’d keep it a surprise!’ she said.

  ‘Ah, that’s brilliant, Mam,’ said Eoin.

  ‘So what have you been up to, Alan?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Not much. It’s a bit boring up in Dublin. All my mates are in Irish college or away on holidays. I was playing tennis with myself up against a wall for about three days when Mam came up with this idea.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Eoin’s mother, ‘dinner will be around seven o’clock so no visits to the chipper!’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Madden,’ said Alan, ‘I’ll keep them all straight and working hard at the rugby.’

  The trio laughed – Alan was an enthusiastic player but wasn’t very good at all. While Eoin and Dylan had leapt forward through the age groups and were now stars of the Castlerock Junior Cup team, he was still struggling to hold his place on the 14Cs.

  They sat around the field chatting for a while, before Eoin and Dylan resumed their session. Alan was happy to help out running after balls and collecting them from the ditches as Eoin took his pot-shots at goal. It was good to be around the guys again.

  With meal-time approaching, Alan kept checking his watch and Eoin got the message.

  ‘That’s enough for today,’ he announced, tucking the ball under his arm.

  As they walked back to town they bumped into Mrs Madden, who had a kitbag in her hand.

  ‘I just dropped down to your mum, Dylan, and she said its fine for you to stay over for the next few days. Here’s your pyjamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah, thanks a lot, Mrs Madden, this will be like going on holidays!’

  The three devoured their dinner and started making plans for the next few days. Rugby training couldn’t be slackened off, but they had to make time for Alan too. The young Dubliner insisted he was just happy to be in the same town as his buddies.

  As Alan lounged on the spare bed in Eoin’s room – with Dylan on the blow-up mattress on the floor – he spotted the ornament that Dixie had presented to his grandson.

  ‘What’s that thing?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s some sort of broken rugby ball,’ said Eoin. ‘An old Russian lad gave it to Dixie years ago and he just gave it to me. I think he was making a joke about it being blue and me playing for Leinster. I think it’s more green than blue.’

  Eoin told Alan about the old house beside where his grandfather lived and the rumours that it was haunted.

  ‘A real haunted house? We have to go there – NOW!’ said Alan, who was a great fan of scary stories and horror movies.

  Eoin looked at Dylan and nodded. ‘Well… I suppose it would do no harm. It won’t be dark for ages so we’ll be safe enough,’ he said.

  The trio scurried out of the house and trotted up towards Dixie’s house. The old man’s car wasn’t in the drive so they kept going, stopping when they reached the gates of the nearest big house.

  Eoin had no fear of ghosts. He knew that visitors from the spirit world didn’t wear white sheets and go ‘woooo-wooooo’ like those in films. He had encountered four ghosts around Castlerock since he started in the school and all had been just ordinary men, although some had done extraordinary things.

  But even though he didn’t feel scared of what might be inside, the way the old house appeared made Eoin and his pals slow down. Although it was a bright, warm, summer’s evening, as soon as they stepped through the broken-down iron gates it seemed to grow a little darker, and a little colder.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Lubov house was built with dark stone and the windows were covered with shutters that had once been white. The front door had been broken off its hinges and hung at an angle, so that the whole structure looked like a face that was slightly twisted and screaming in agony.

  Dylan and Eoin exchanged glances, and Eoin could see that his friend was nervous.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go in, Dyl?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, sure what’s the worst thing that could happen?’ said Dylan.

  ‘Well, I suppose we could caught in the crossfire between Frankenstein and the Mummy,’ laughed Alan, ‘And get eaten alive by zombies as we try to escape.’

  Dylan went another shade whiter, regretting all the scary films he had watched with his sister.

  Eoin led the trio up the driveway, which was overgrown by brambles, and past a dusty red sports car whose four tyres were flat and had begun to rot.

  ‘What a waste,’ said Dylan, ‘That was a serious car in its day.’

  They stopped at the front door and peered into the hallway.

  ‘The floorboards might be unsafe…’ said Eoin.

  He pressed his foot to the floor and found it sturdy. He clambered through the gap where the door hung and called back to his pals.

  ‘It’s grand,’ he said, ‘The floorboards are all in place and they seem fine. We’ll need to open the shutters to get some light in, though.’

  Eoin crossed the hallway into the main room and threw back the shutters in a cloud of dust and scrambling spiders.

  Alan and Dylan followed him slowly, peering over their shoulders into every dark corner.

  The house had obviously been cleaned out of anything valuable, but some rickety pieces of furniture remained. There were large white spaces on the wall where paintings had once hung.

  ‘This must have been an amazing place when it
was lived in,’ said Alan. ‘He must have been a very rich old man.’

  Eoin told him the rest of the story, explaining that the little rugby ball had once been owned by the ruler of Russia. ‘Mr Lubov must have been very well connected. He certainly had some amazing stories. Grandad really enjoyed the chats they had together.’

  ‘I wonder is there any more treasure about the place,’ said Dylan.

  ‘I’d say it’s long gone,’ said Alan. ‘It looks like anything half-decent was taken away or robbed.’

  They wandered into the last of the downstairs rooms, where a piano had collapsed in on itself after a chandelier had fallen on top.

  Eoin opened a shutter to get a better look at the room. He noticed that something thin and flat was lying on the mantelpiece and walked over to pick it up.

  ‘What’s that, Eoin?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘It looks like a photo frame,’ he replied. ‘It’s covered in dust though.’

  Eoin crossed back over to the window and wiped his sleeve across the glass that covered the picture. He stared at the photograph which was brown and stained with age, but the most surprising thing was that it was of a man dressed in a white jersey and shorts running with a rugby ball clutched to his chest under his huge right hand. His flicked-back hair rippled in the wind as he ran, and he looked as if he was just about to touch down for a try as the opposition chased him in vain.

  ‘Is that an English shirt?’ asked Dylan as his friends peered over his shoulder at the picture.

  ‘I think you’re right, Dyl,’ replied Eoin. ‘I think I can see a rose on the chest there.’

  ‘I wonder what that’s doing here,’ asked Alan. ‘I thought your man was Russian.’

  ‘Yeah, and no one ever heard of Russia playing rugby, did they?’ said Dylan. ‘Sure the snow would make it impossible.’

  ‘Ah now, it’s not all snow in Russia, I believe,’ laughed Eoin.

  ‘And Ireland played them in the World Cup in 2011,’ chipped in Alan. ‘We won 62-12 and Keith Earls got two tries.’

  Eoin and Dylan stared at their pal. ‘For a fellow that can’t play rugby, you know an awful lot about it,’ Dylan quipped.

  As they moved to leave the room, Eoin stopped in his tracks and held up his index finger, pointing at the ceiling.

  ‘Something’s moving around upstairs,’ he whispered.

  ‘Probably rats, or a cat,’ said Dylan, acting braver than he felt.

  ‘Sure we’ve seen everything we want to see, no point delaying any longer,’ said Alan, now very keen to leave the spooky mansion.

  Eoin was the bravest, however, and walked to the foot of the tall, wide staircase that led to the upper floor of the Lubov home.

  It was getting darker outside, and there were fewer windows allowing light into the giant hallway. But Eoin was sure he could see some movement at the top of the stairs. He took one step upwards as a figure came into view. There on the wide landing stood a man in all-white rugby gear, with a bright red rose sewn into the chest.

  Eoin called out, ‘Who are you?’

  The man stopped and stared down the stairs at Eoin. Silently, he turned and slowly walked away.

  Eoin considered following him, but as Dylan and Alan had both backed away quickly and were now clambering noisily through the front door, he decided against it. He looked back as he made his own exit and saw the figure raise a right hand in farewell. Eoin did the same then jogged after his pals, catching up as they reached the road outside.

  ‘Who was that?’ gasped Alan.

  ‘Was it another ghost?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Eoin, ‘probably. But one thing I am sure of is this – your man on the staircase is the player in that old photo.’

  CHAPTER 6

  The boys ran home as quickly as they could and slipped into the front room, where they sat silently.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ asked Mrs Madden as she popped her head around the door.

  ‘All fine,’ said Eoin. ‘We were just out for a run up by Grandad’s,’ he added, omitting some important details.

  ‘I’ll drop you in a drink and a snack, then,’ she announced before departing for the kitchen.

  ‘That was all a bit weird,’ said Dylan. ‘I wonder if it was a ghost – Alan and I were able to see them when we were with you before, too.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Eoin. ‘I must ask Grandad does he know any more about Mr Lubov – and that rugby player too…’

  He stopped talking as his mum entered with a glass of orange squash and a granola bar for each of the boys.

  ‘I hope today wasn’t too boring for you, Alan,’ she said. ‘These two are rugby mad and they spend all their time at it. Hopefully you’ll find something else to put the colour back in your cheeks. You do look a little pale…’

  ‘I’m fine, Mrs M, thanks. There’s plenty to do around Ormondstown, it seems.’

  ‘Really?’ she replied. ‘Well that’s good. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Do you think she suspected anything?’ asked Dylan after Mrs Madden had closed the door.

  ‘Nah, she hadn’t a clue. And we didn’t do too much wrong anyway besides trespassing in an old house that nobody owns,’ said Alan.

  ‘Well, unless you count this as stealing,’ gulped Eoin, as he took the brown, fading photograph out of his back pocket.

  ‘Aha,’ started Dylan, with a big grin on his face. ‘I’m not sure what else you can call it, Mr Goody Two-Shoes!’

  Eoin went red. ‘Ah, that’s unfair, I’m no Goody Two-Shoes!’

  ‘Well you certainly aren’t now,’ quipped Alan, ‘But seriously, what are you going to do with it? You can’t leave it back there.’

  ‘But I can’t ask Dixie about it either, can I? I suppose I could say I borrowed it?’

  ‘From who?’ asked Dylan, with a grin.

  Eoin was embarrassed and slipped the photo into his pocket once more.

  ‘Alright, I’m off to bed,’ he snapped. ‘See you in the morning.’

  The next day was too wet for the boys to practise rugby so they lounged around the house watching DVDs of old matches that Dixie had given Eoin for Christmas. Eoin had a good eye for spotting moves and had already learned some interesting things about tactics and how the game had changed. Alan was just as keen, but Dylan bored easily and wanted to be outdoors.

  ‘Anyone fancy a return trip to the haunted house? We could bring torches this time and maybe a weapon or two.’

  ‘What would we need a weapon for?’ asked Alan. ‘Sure if it was a ghost we wouldn’t be able to hurt him, and if it was a human then we’d be better off running as fast as we could. Anyway, he didn’t seem too interested in talking to us last night.’

  ‘He never got a chance to talk because you pair were gone quicker than a snowflake on a pizza,’ laughed Eoin.

  Alan blushed. ‘I’d like to go back. Sure what harm could we do?’

  Eoin paused the DVD. ‘I don’t know, I think we should keep out of there for the moment. We don’t want to risk doing ourselves an injury ahead of the Leinster and Munster things.’

  Dylan nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. You’d look pretty stupid ringing up the Leinster branch saying you broke an ankle exploring a haunted house. They wouldn’t be ringing you back in a hurry.’

  Eoin switched the rugby back on. ‘Look at this break by O’Driscoll, Dyl, he leaves the French fella sitting on the ground. That’ll be you in a red shirt in a couple of years, wiping grass stains off your shorts.’

  Dylan threw a cushion across the room, catching Alan on the back of the head.

  Alan turned and fired his half-eaten chocolate bar at Dylan, and the three soon collapsed into a friendly scrum as they wrestled across the bean bags that covered the floor.

  CHAPTER 7

  The days flew by while Alan was around, and the trio got up to plenty of fun without risking life and limb. Eoin’s trip to the Leinster academy meant Alan’s holiday was nearly over.r />
  They could tell Dylan was getting nervous about his own rugby camp as he had been getting more and more cranky as the days drew nearer.

  ‘Hey, Eoin, I’ll tell the Savage brothers you were asking how the knitting lessons were going,’ he snarled one morning as they walked back to Eoin’s house from training. ‘And I’m sure Curry Ryan will be glad to hear you’ve joined the dark side.’

  Eoin wasn’t worried about what his old Ormondstown national school mates thought of his switch, but he was getting fed up of Dylan’s constant baiting of him and his new province. He was happy he had made the right decision to take up Leinster’s offer, and anyway, Munster hadn’t bothered to ask him either.

  ‘Listen, Dylan,’ he growled back. ‘I’m delighted you got the Munster call-up. They obviously think you’re a far better player than me. And if that’s what their academy thinks, then it is obviously the best academy to be in,’ he smiled. ‘So best of luck with that.’

  Dylan was even more incensed. ‘You think this is funny? This is some excuse to be sarcastic? This is Munster ye’re talking about. It’s no joke! I know you’re a better player than me, but I’m going to take my chances and turn myself into a top star.’

  Eoin wasn’t sure whether he should smile or keep a serious face, but in the end, as Alan made a face behind Dylan, he just spluttered out a laugh. Dylan leapt at him, fists flying, and connected one with his eyebrow before Eoin pushed him away and Alan held him back. Eoin put his hand up to his face and felt the sore spot where Dylan had made contact. He checked his fingertips and was angry to see a few drops of smeared blood.

  ‘What did you do that for, you muppet?’ roared Eoin.

  Dylan had calmed down and now looked at Eoin with a horrified expression.

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean to cut you,’ he moaned.

  Eoin jogged ahead home and seethed as his mother mopped up the cut and applied a plaster.

  ‘It was just horseplay,’ he lied. ‘I hope there isn’t a scar, or the Leinster coaches might think I’m some sort of trouble maker.’