by Mary Arrigan
‘It’s OK for you,’ I panted, ‘but I have real legs that don’t waft like yours.’ Not yet, anyway!
We’d just got as far as Big Ella’s gate when the clock stopped chiming midnight.
‘Shane!’ I called out as I ran past the house and down towards the stony place. ‘Shane!’
I almost fell down when I saw the shadowy figures standing in a half circle. And there, before them, were Shane and Big Ella. They were totally still, like in a trance. One of the shadowy figures broke away and moved towards them.
‘That’s Amergin,’ whispered Mister Lewis, his voice shaky with fear.
‘The stones!’ I said, pulling the two stone halves from inside my jacket. ‘I have them.’
Mister Lewis shook his head. ‘Too late, lad,’ he said. ‘No good now. Midnight has passed. All is lost.’
I watched, terrified, as Amergin moved. I couldn’t see his face. He wore long clothes and had long hair that wafted about like a dirty cobweb. At a signal from him, the rest of the ghostly shapes also began to move towards Shane and Big Ella.
‘They’re going to turn them into half-ghosts – just like me,’ groaned Mister Lewis. ‘They’re doomed!’
That’s when I got really angry. I was not going to stand by and watch my best mate and his gran made into spooks.
‘Stop!’ I shouted, running into the circle. Shane and Big Ella were kneeling, their heads bent forward, like they were still in a trance.
‘Get away from my friends, you creeps!’ I roared.
Amergin drifted towards me. I could see his face now, all right, and it was not pretty. He had mad eyes that would bore holes in a skyscraper. His voice shook the ground and made my bones tremble. I didn’t understand what he was saying. Terrified and angry, I yelled back at him, any rubbish I could think of to disguise my terror. His deep, earthquaky voice got louder. And then Mister Lewis was beside me. He was trying to pull me away, except that his hands kept going through me.
‘Don’t upset him, lad,’ he whispered.
But I wasn’t listening. I ripped off my jacket and hurled it, and the two stone halves, at Amergin.
‘There’s your crummy stones,’ I shouted. ‘We went to awful trouble to get them − me and Mister Lewis. And you can keep the jacket!’ I added, kicking it towards Amergin. Then I rushed over to Shane and Big Ella.
‘Get them out of their trance,’ Mister Lewis’s voice shouted from behind.
I don’t know what I was thinking, but that was when I pushed Big Ella on top of Shane. She was a big lady and she squashed him like a frog under a tractor. If Amergin didn’t kill him, then Big Ella certainly would.
‘I’ve killed my best friend,’ was my last thought before the circle of foggy shapes began to close in and everything went black.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MISTER LEWIS TELLS ALL
When I woke up, I was lying in the long grass behind Shane’s house. It was still dark. I looked around in terror, expecting to see those spooks looming again. But there was nobody. Was it over? Was I dead? I kicked at a rock, expecting my foot to go through it. It didn’t.
‘Ouch!’ I yelped.
‘What did you do that for?’ It was Mister Lewis. He floated towards me, still a spook.
‘I thought I might be dead,’ I replied.
‘Dead?’ he laughed. ‘Not at all, my dear friend.’
‘But what happened?’ I asked. ‘What about Shane and Big Ella?’
‘They’re back at the house,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘They’re safe. Look, my dear, brave Master Milo Ferdinand, I don’t have much time. I just want to thank you.’
‘Huh?’
‘For getting me away from this dreary place. Shush, listen,’ he went on as I started to ask questions. ‘You want to know what happened out here? I’ll tell you. I can only stay a few moments.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because I have a ticket to go somewhere better than this stony dump,’ he said with a smile. ‘When you pushed the big lady on to her grandson, it was the best move you’ll ever make in your life.’
‘But wasn’t Amergin very angry with me?’ I said.
Mister Lewis shook his head. ‘I thought so too,’ he admitted. ‘But then I heard a sound that I thought I’d never, ever hear.’ He paused, smiling at whatever he was remembering.
‘Yeah? Go on.’
‘It was the sound of Amergin laughing,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine? A powerful Celtic druid laughing. His whole body − at least his whole ghostly body − was shaking with laughter at the sight of Big Ella flattening her grandson. I haven’t laughed so much myself since … since … oh, to tell the truth, I just never, ever laughed like that.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘He actually laughed? The great Amergin?’
‘It really was amusing,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘And then he sent away the circle of druids and indicated to Big Ella to haul the lad back to the house.’
‘So, Shane never saw what went on?’ I asked.
‘No. He won’t remember any of this. You must not tell him.’
I didn’t quite agree. What was the point in going through all this stuff and not being able to chat to Shane about it? And make sure he’d always be grateful to me for the rest of time? But I nodded. I’d have agreed to anything because I was alive, and so were my best mate and his gran.
‘I must go now,’ went on Mister Lewis. He smiled again and rubbed his spooky hands together. ‘I’m all done here,’ he said. ‘My stone-guarding duties are over. The stone halves have been joined together and buried and,’ he smiled, ‘Amergin has freed me.’
‘To go where?’ I asked again.
Mister Lewis winked and shrugged his dusty shoulders. ‘That’s what I have to find out. But it has to be a better place than this dreary wasteland. It’s been great to meet you. So, goodbye, Milo, my friend.’
He held out his hand and I took it. It was surprisingly warm. At least, it left a warm feeling in my own hand and in my heart. In an instant, Mister Lewis was gone.
‘Goodbye, you old spook,’ I whispered. ‘I hope you’ll find harps and sunshine and get to dance on fluffy clouds.’
There were lights downstairs in Shane’s house. I pushed open the back door. Big Ella was in the kitchen. She was painting a huge canvas. At this hour? How mad was this?
‘Milo!’ she said. ‘Mister Lewis told me to leave you alone, that he’d look after you.’
‘What are you doing?’ I asked. This was getting even crazier.
‘I’m doing what Amergin asked me to do,’ she laughed as she splashed on another swish with her paintbrush. ‘I’m painting a picture of the stone. That’s what he wants. He said it was so that people will never forget our ancient history.’
‘Where did he go, him and those other guys in frocks?’ I asked.
‘Amergin took the stones, still wrapped in whatever you’d put around them,’ said Big Ella. ‘And they all simply disappeared. Just me and that nice Mister Lewis left. What a pity he didn’t call years ago. We could have chatted over tea and muffins …’
‘Where is Shane?’ I put in.
She nodded towards the ceiling. ‘He’s upstairs, asleep. Wow, he’s some weight!’
She suddenly looked serious. ‘He mustn’t know about tonight’s events, Milo,’ she said. ‘He couldn’t cope with all that’s happened. Mister Lewis promised me that Shane won’t remember any of it. You and I are the only ones who know what went on here tonight. Now, how’s about a warm muffin to help you get back to normal before you go home, eh?
‘Normal?’ I said. ‘What’s normal, Big Ella?’ Could I ever be normal after all this?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SWIRLING COLOURS AND ROUNDY DESIGNS
‘Let’s go to the museum,’ Shane said, after school a week later.
‘What?’ I said. ‘Why do you want to go there? We were there last week.’
‘I want to see it again.’
‘Oh, all right,’ I groaned. I’d had it up to
my tonsils with druids and circles-inside-circles, thank you very much.
At the beginning of the alley I stopped to shake a stone from my shoe. Shane was still chatting to himself, didn’t even know I’d stopped. When I caught up with him around the corner he had company. Yes, it was my night-time pals, Crunch Kelly and Wedge Murphy. They were hassling Shane. They had him pressed against a wall, one searching his pockets, the other trying to steal Shane’s new runners. I watched for just a couple of seconds.
‘Run!’ Shane yelled at me. ‘Get away from these scumbags!’
That was my best pal – watching out for me. But now it was my turn. I sauntered towards them.
‘Excuse me, boys,’ I said.
It was Crunch who saw me first. I smiled, and he froze. He tapped Wedge who was stooped down, untying the second runner.
‘What?’ Wedge said impatiently. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy, Crunch?’
Then he looked up and saw me. ‘Woooo,’ I whispered. ‘Been in court yet, boys?’ They both looked around frantically and, holding on to each other, they scarpered.
Shane’s mouth opened wide. ‘Hey, Milo,’ he said. ‘How did you do that?’
I tapped my nose. ‘I got that trick from a friend,’ I said. ‘A very old friend,’ I added.
‘Liar, liar, pants on fire,’ said Shane. ‘We go way back, I know everyone you know …’
‘Maybe not everyone,’ I said. ‘Now, come on. Let’s see what’s happening.’
There was a crowd in the museum. Mister Conway was there, like a demented general with piles, fussing and telling people to get in line. Shane and I ducked our way to the centre of the attraction.
‘I’m so proud,’ whispered Shane.
And so he should be. His gran’s painting of the druidstone had everyone excited. The swirling colours and roundy designs were simply magic. Celtic magic. The museum people had bought the picture for permanent display in the newly done-up glass case where the half druidstone had been.
‘This painting is extremely valuable now that the druidstone has been stolen by robbers,’ Mister Conway was saying to the crowd. How would he react if I told him that the robbers were me and the dead Mister Albert Arthur Lewis!
‘OooOOOoo!’ I couldn’t resist, could I?
Mister Conway ducked down and put his hands on his head.
‘Eh, I think I dropped me, eh, keys,’ he muttered when he came up for air. He blushed and ran his eyes over all of us. Just for an instant he focused on me, and then glanced over at the Famine scene. Then he shook his head, probably to shake away that night and stop himself from associating living faces with the whole spooky thing.
‘Just think, Milo,’ said Shane when we went outside, ‘the council are having cards and calendars and prints and stuff done from that painting by my gran. They say it’ll bring tourists to liven up our town. By the way,’ he continued, taking something from his pocket. ‘I found this in the long grass behind our house. Didn’t you have a jacket with this on it?’
I looked at the tatty little bit of the jacket with Bart Simpson’s face on it, and I smiled.
‘Not any more,’ I said. ‘It was nicked by a druid.’
‘Yeah, right,’ laughed Shane. ‘Like, he wore it to Grace O’Malley’s tea party!’
‘Sure thing,’ I smiled.
About the Author
Mary Arrigan studied at the National College of Art, Dublin, and at Florence University. She became a fulltime writer in 1994. Her latest novel for teenagers, The Rabbit Girl, one of her forty-two published books, was selected by The United States Board of Books for Young People on their list of Outstanding International Books for 2012. Her awards include the International White Ravens title (Munich), a Bisto Merit Award, The Sunday Times Crime Writers Association Award and The Hennessy Short Story Award. Her books have been translated into twelve languages.
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Copyright
This eBook edition first published 2013
by The O’Brien Press Ltd.,
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First published 2013
eBook ISBN: 978–1–84717–619–6
Copyright for text and illustrations © Mary Arrigan 2013
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The O’Brien Press Ltd.
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