Rugby Heroes

by Gerard Siggins

  Dedication

  To Peter and Nuala, great friends

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my family for all their support and encouragement. As ever, the brilliant editing of Helen Carr has helped me see this book into your hands. She has been a true Rugby Hero over the six books of the series.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  CHRISTMAS was Eoin’s favourite time of the year. He had a stack of memories of joyful mornings when he benefited from being the only child – and grandchild – in his family.

  As he stretched out in his bed and lifted his legs over the side he wondered what delights would be under the tree for him this year.

  Since he had started to do well at rugby there was no point asking Santa or his family for the usual presents of sportswear, as his wardrobe was stuffed solid with jerseys and tracksuits in both Leinster blue and Ireland green.

  He had dropped a few hints about how he missed cycling since he’d outgrown his bike, and how good it might be to help him vary his fitness training. While he had been rested during the Mini World Cup he had borrowed a bike to get around the university campus and enjoyed the freedom it gave him.

  Although it felt like so long ago, it was only a week or so since Ireland had won the final and Eoin had helped solve the mysterious theft of the William Webb Ellis Cup – with a little help from the man after whom the cup was named. Thinking of those days brought him back to the exciting moments of glory when Sam Farrelly had scored the winning try and Charlie Bermingham had lifted the trophy over his head. He felt a warm fuzzy glow rush through him and he jumped up from the bed, lifting an imaginary World Cup over his own head and taking the applause of the crowd.

  He had been surrounded by newspaper reporters and cameramen after the game, but the Garda detectives had told him it was important he didn’t say anything about the crime or the operation to recover the trophy as it might prevent the thieves from being sent to prison. Eoin was happy to keep quiet as he hated being the centre of attention anyway.

  The IRFU was particularly delighted with his detective work, however, and he was chuffed when he got down home to Ormondstown for the holidays to find a letter of thanks from its president. He was even happier when he noticed that the paperclip on the top of the page was attached to four thin pieces of cardboard: ‘Ireland versus England at Aviva Stadium, Saturday 30 March’ was all Eoin bothered to read before he whooped with delight and rushed to show his mum.

  He’d decided to say nothing to his grandfather, but instead slipped one ticket inside the pair of socks he always bought him for Christmas. That would be an excellent present!

  Eoin dressed quickly and rushed down the stairs as quickly as he had every Christmas morning since he’d been able to walk. He popped his head into the kitchen, where his parents were already hard at work preparing breakfast and dinner.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mam, Happy Christmas, Dad!’ he smiled. ‘I wonder what’s under the tree for me?’

  He hugged his parents and handed over his gifts to them, before crossing to the sitting room, where a shining bicycle awaited him.

  ‘Just what I wanted!’

  ‘Why don’t you run over to see Dixie?’ suggested his mother. ‘He’s been on the phone already so he’s up and about. Tell him your dad will collect him about one o’clock.’

  ‘That would be great – but are you sure you don’t want a hand peeling sprouts?’ asked Eoin.

  ‘Does the great detective Sherlock Holmes peel sprouts?’ asked his dad. ‘No, run on there and see your grandad.’

  Eoin winced at what his father had said – he really hated the attention he had got over the incident, and got particularly embarrassed when people called him a hero – but then he grinned gratefully and wheeled his bike out of the house, pausing to admire its perfect dark blue paintwork.

  Eoin’s grandfather, Dixie Madden, was once a great rugby player, and he had become Eoin’s greatest supporter. He lived in a cottage nearby and Eoin called to see him every day he was home from boarding school.

  ‘Hi, Grandad, merry Christmas to you,’ Eoin called as he spotted the old man opening the curtains at the window.

  Dixie lifted his hand in salute and moved to open the door.

  ‘Well, was Santa Claus good to you?’ he asked.

  ‘Very!’ replied Eoin, hopping off and pointing to his brand-new bike.

  ‘Oh, that’s a beauty,’ smiled Dixie. ‘Does she move well?’

  ‘Like a dream,’ replied Eoin. ‘I got over here in about two minutes flat,’ he pointed to his watch. ‘I’ve never run it faster than five.’

  ‘That’s good news, you’ll have that bit more time to spend with me when you call over now,’ Dixie chuckled.

  ‘Dad says he’ll call over at one o’clock,’ Eoin said, as the old man ushered him inside.

  ‘That will give us plenty of time to talk about rugby,’ said Dixie. ‘We will have to get that project of yours finished too.’

  Eoin’s face fell.

  ‘Grandad… it’s Christmas Day! You don’t expect me to do school work today, do you?’

  ‘Ah no, sure this isn’t work at all,’ laughed Dixie.

  ‘Hmmm,’ mused Eoin. ‘It certainly sounds like it. What do you have in mind?’

  ‘Well, your project is on the origins of rugby and William Webb Ellis – the chap whose trophy you discovered. But besides Ellis spending some time here as a boy, there’s nothing about the early days of rugby in Ireland. So, well, I thought you’d like this…’ said Dixie, handing Eoin a parcel. ‘I’ve a few other presents for you, but this will be useful.’

  Eoin tore open the wrapping and saw that it was a book on the history of the rugby stadium on Lansdowne Road. He riffled through the pages, catching sight of old players whose names Dixie had mentioned to him. His friend Brian, too, had told him about the stars he had seen play at the ground.

  ‘Wow, thanks Grandad, this is excellent,’ he grinned. ‘I promise I’ll start reading it tonight.’

  Dixie laughed. ‘Well, I don’t expect you’ll allow it to get in the way of the important Christmas things such as eating and watching TV…’

  Chapter 2

  After lunch, Eoin dished out his presents – socks and chocs – but he especially enjoyed seeing the delight on his grandad’s face when he saw there was a surprise bonus tucked inside. They made plans to meet up before the g
ame and have a full day’s fun with his parents.

  The rest of the day flew by, but over the evening several visitors arrived, and each set wanted to hear Eoin recount his adventure.

  He was therefore delighted when the last of them left, and with a yawn he said good night and hauled himself upstairs.

  Eoin was tired and happy as he lay down on his bed. He reached over and picked up the book Dixie had given him, and read through the early chapters before he decided it was time for sleep. He flicked on a few pages and was amazed to see there was a whole chapter on his friend Brian.

  He had heard the story of the young Lansdowne player, and how he had lost his life, but it was still interesting to read about it in detail, and the book told him a lot more about Brian than the modest ghost had let on. Eoin read that Brian had been a seriously good prop, and had just been selected for the Leinster junior side to play Munster when he became the only player to lose his life playing on the ground. He grinned at how his friend had faced the same dilemma as he had in opting to play against his native province.

  He studied the photo of Brian, amazed that he looked the same now as he had almost a century before. He felt a tinge of sadness that he wouldn’t see his pal for a couple of weeks, and wondered what ghosts got up to over Christmas.

  Eoin closed the book and nodded off quickly, sleeping deeply and soundly until a loud knock came to his front door early the next morning.

  ‘Howya, Eoin!’ came the call as he peered round the side of the curtain. ‘Get down here and we’ll go for a spin!’

  Outside was his great friend and school-mate Dylan, and he was pointing at a shiny bicycle of the same make as Eoin’s, although his was painted red.

  ‘Santa got the rugby colours right, anyway,’ chuckled Dylan as Eoin wheeled his own bike through the doorway.

  Eoin was startled at what Dylan had noticed. Although Eoin was from Munster, he went to school in Leinster and had been selected to play for that province. It meant he got a bit of slagging thrown at him around Ormondstown, but he had got used to that and reckoned it was just some people’s way of acknowledging his success. Still, he never wore a blue Leinster shirt around town, reckoning that might be just a little bit too provocative.

  Dylan had no problem with wearing rugby shirts though, and was rarely seen in school or over the holidays without the red Munster shirt he had earned in the interprovincial championships the previous year. He was even wearing it today.

  ‘I might repaint the bike green to keep them guessing,’ laughed Eoin.

  ‘But they’d think you were just being cocky about playing for Ireland,’ frowned Dylan.

  Eoin laughed. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Everyone has an opinion about me now that I’ve been on the TV news. I’ll just paint it purple and hope nobody notices it’s me cycling it.’

  The pair rode around town twice, which didn’t take very long. They stopped for a chat with Dylan’s sister Caoimhe and her pals, who were out on their new bikes too.

  ‘They’ll have to put cycle lanes in Ormondstown soon,’ laughed Dylan. ‘Looks like everyone got a bike for Christmas.’

  ‘I saw you in the paper for rescuing that trophy,’ said Iris McCabe. ‘You were very brave.’

  Eoin blushed and laughed it off. ‘I didn’t do much, I was in the back of a Garda car when all the action happened.’

  ‘The papers said you were a “brave schoolboy star”, chuckled Caoimhe. ‘I cut it out for you in case you missed it.’

  ‘Did you stick it in the scrapbook you have about him?’ asked Iris.

  Eoin and Caoimhe blushed, and Eoin changed the subject. ‘I wonder is there anywhere we could buy locks for the bikes? I wouldn’t leave them out around town without being chained up.’

  ‘I’d say you’d be all right,’ said Iris. ‘Sure, everyone knows everyone in this town. No one would steal from their neighbours, would they?

  Chapter 3

  The school holidays, as usual, went by quickly. Eoin spent a couple of afternoons chatting with his grandad about his project, adding to it from his new book, and a couple more nights putting it all together.

  He was happy he had completed it before he went back to school as it was one less thing he had to worry about. The next six months were going to be busy – Castlerock were mad keen to defend the Junior Cup he had helped them win the year before, and he had his Junior Certificate exams at the end of the school year. The mini World Cup had been a big distraction and he knew he was behind with his studies, which annoyed him. He knew he wasn’t a top ten student but if he worked hard he could get good results.

  He spent the last morning of the holidays putting together a timetable right up to the exams and was just finished when his mother told him the postman had a letter for him.

  Eoin has glad of the distraction and skipped down the stairs two at a time. He was even happier when he saw that it was another letter with the words ‘Irish Rugby Football Union’ stamped in green along the bottom of the envelope.

  ‘Maybe they’re sending me more tickets for the England game?’ he grinned at his mother.

  But the letter had a different purpose entirely.

  ‘Dear Eoin Madden,’ it began.

  ‘The recent World Rugby Under-16 World Cup was an unqualified success, and we were delighted that you played an important part in Ireland’s ultimate victory. The board of the Irish Rugby Football Union were so impressed by your team’s efforts that it has approached other members of the Six Nations about setting up an Under-16 version of the championship. Four unions have agreed to take part.

  ‘We appreciate that many of your team will be busy with Junior Cups and examinations, so we propose to run the event off in one week in mid-March. We will be back shortly with precise timings and fixtures, and hope you will make yourself available for selection by replying to this by email by 5pm next Friday.’

  Eoin jumped in the air in delight.

  ‘They’re having a Six Nations for Under 16s, Mam!’ he squealed. ‘Looks like it will be around St Patrick’s Day. It’s around the mid-term break I think, too’.

  ‘Are you picked?’

  ‘No, but they’ve asked am I available. I should be OK to make the squad, maybe even start.’

  Eoin made for the front door, but stopped.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked his mum.

  ‘I was going to cycle over to Dixie to tell him but I better get upstairs and start shifting around my timetable again. This makes a mess of my plans to come home and study that week.’

  ‘Ah, that can wait. Run down and tell him, he’ll be so delighted.’

  Eoin grinned and dashed outside where he found his bicycle chained to the fence.

  ‘Your dad got you a lock, the key is hanging inside the door there. You can’t be too careful with a new bike,’ his mother told him.

  Eoin thanked her, unlocked his bicycle and sped over to Dixie’s house. He checked his watch as he reached the gate and saw he’d knocked four seconds off his personal best for the journey.

  Dixie was delighted at the news from the IRFU, and wrote the date in his new pocket diary. After a few minutes’ chat Eoin explained he had to get back to his study plan and waved goodbye.

  But as he mounted his bicycle, around the corner came Caoimhe and Iris, who were both crying.

  ‘What’s wrong, Caoimhe?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s our bikes,’ she replied. ‘And Dylan’s. They’ve been stolen – all of them.’

  ‘Ah no, that’s terrible,’ gasped Eoin.

  The girls stared at the chain hanging from his handlebars.

  ‘My dad bought me a lock, otherwise I never would have thought of it,’ Eoin said.

  Iris, who looked more angry than upset, asked, ‘Who would be stealing three bikes?’

  ‘Five actually!’ gasped Dylan, who had just jogged around the corner. ‘I met the Savage brothers and they had two nicked from their back garden.’

  ‘It’s a total crime wave,’ said Caoimhe, still sobbing.<
br />
  ‘I’ll have a look around the town,’ suggested Eoin, hopping back onto his bike. ‘I’ll call down to your house if I see anything.’

  Dylan nodded, and told him he’d check out the back alleys and the car parks in case they’d been hidden there.

  ‘It’s probably an organised gang, with a van, so be careful,’ said Iris.

  Eoin cycled away, taking a wide circle of the town and coming back towards Dixie’s house. Through a gap in the high wall, he looked towards the old Lubov mansion that had been the starting point for one of his adventures last summer. He was surprised to see a white figure walking up and down the steps of the house in an agitated state.

  ‘Alex,’ he whispered to himself.

  He decided that this wasn’t the time to renew his friendship with the ghost of the old Russian prince who had once played rugby for England.

  He circled back to his grandad’s house but, as he hadn’t seen anything of the bike thieves, he decided to head home.

  Chapter 4

  Eoin spent the evening reorganising his schedule, making copies of his rugby project, and packing his kit for the term ahead. In earlier years his mother had filled the suitcase for him, but now she left him to make his own choices. He carefully laid out his favourite t-shirts and rugby tops, before finally cramming in the school uniforms wherever they would fit.

  Conscious that he would be back at training the next day, he had a small portion of pasta before making one last call down to Dixie to say goodbye. The old man had got Eoin’s Ireland shirt framed for him for Christmas and offered to do the same with the Leinster one for his birthday.

  It was dark and as Eoin hadn’t got around to buying a lamp for his bike, he put on his heaviest coat, stuffed the blue Leinster shirt into his pocket, and strolled down through the town with a hat and scarf keeping the biting wind at bay.

  Dixie was tired, and ready for bed, but said he was looking forward to watching the international in Lansdowne Road. Eoin told him about the thefts around town and asked him had he seen anyone or anything out of the ordinary.