Rugby Heroes

by Gerard Siggins

  ‘No, nothing changes very much around here,’ replied Dixie, as he searched through his memory. ‘But there was one little thing that surprised me. I always go out for a walk past the Lubov house and I know exactly how the front gate hangs. This afternoon I noticed that it had been moved – opened fully and then closed because the grass was ripped and a rut had been cut in the mud. I examined the ground inside and it looked as if a car had been driven over it. I couldn’t see anything so I walked on. But I can’t imagine there’s anyone living in there now – half the roof fell in a few months back.’

  Eoin thanked his grandad and they said their goodbyes. Eoin looked up the road towards the mansion as he left, wondering what had caused the tyre marks.

  He walked quickly to Dylan’s house and told him what Dixie had seen. He was also reminded of his glimpse of Prince Obolensky earlier in the day.

  ‘Do you think all this has something to do with the bikes?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘Probably not,’ said Eoin, ‘but we’re off to Dublin in the morning and if we don’t check it out now we’ll never know. I’m certainly not going to go in on my own, so get your coat on and let’s head up to see if anything’s happening. Bring a lamp if you have one.’

  Dylan’s face fell. ‘I had one – but it went with the bike…’

  Chapter 5

  The mansion on the hill at the edge of town had been owned by a Russian gentleman who died many years before. Whatever relatives he had either didn’t know about the house, or didn’t care, and it had fallen into a bad state of disrepair due to vandals and the Irish weather.

  Eoin and his friends had visited it a few times the previous summer but now, on a cold winter’s night and with the roof missing, he had no intention of venturing inside.

  The boys climbed over the gate, reckoning it would make less noise than swinging it open.

  ‘Take it easy, Dyl,’ hissed Eoin. ‘Don’t rush.’

  Inside the grounds, and with the moon tucked in behind a cloud, Eoin struggled to make out the shapes of the out-buildings.

  ‘I don’t think there’s any point going into the main house,’ he whispered. ‘If there’s anyone here they would be parked around the back.’

  He gestured to Dylan which way he thought they should go. They struggled through the knee-high, wet grass, taking care to dodge around Mr Lubov’s old sports car which had become rusted and overgrown by weeds.

  Eoin looked up at the house, whose windows were long broken and was startled to see that Prince Alex was waving at him from the balcony upstairs, over the doorway.

  ‘Do you see him, Dylan?’ whispered Eoin.

  ‘I do, that’s Alex, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, he seems to be pointing behind him into the room.’

  ‘Maybe, but he could also mean to go around the back of the house,’ suggested Dylan.

  The moon flooded the grounds once again, allowing Eoin to get his bearings and work out the shortest route to the side of the house. He moved quickly into the shadows, fearful that they might be spotted out in the open.

  Eoin spotted the tyre-tracks again, and followed them around the side of the mansion. He waited at the corner but, peering around it, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  Dylan pointed to the clump of apple trees and suggested they make for them, but Eoin took another look up at the house and again spotted Alex pointing.

  ‘He’s saying to go to that building over there,’ whispered Eoin. ‘It looks like a barn, or a stable…’

  Dylan darted across the yard to the largest of the out-buildings, peering in through where a plank had rotted and fallen away. He hurried back to Eoin.

  ‘Alex was spot on. There’s a white van in there, and two lads sitting in the front seat. There’s a load of bikes stacked up against the wall, too, I’m nearly certain I saw my own Red Rover.’

  Eoin grinned. ‘Well look, we’ll run down to the Garda station…’

  Dylan interrupted. ‘There’s no one there at night anymore. You have to ring them – and they come from twenty miles away anyway.’

  Eoin winced. ‘My phone’s dead.’

  Dylan paused, thinking, before announcing that he had a plan.

  ‘Look, those lads could be leaving tonight. It looks like they’ve cleared the town out of bikes and they’re probably moving on somewhere else. We need to delay them – can you cause a disturbance out here and I’ll sneak around the back and see what I can do?’

  ‘Hang on, Dylan, be careful now. These are criminals we’re dealing with – I don’t want to be caught by them…’

  ‘We’ll be fine. Maybe if you throw a few stones up at what’s left of the windows on the house and make as much noise as you can. Then scarper and ring the police from Dixie’s. Leave the rest to me.’

  Eoin sneaked back to the side of the house, and collected a few fist-sized stones. He tossed one towards a back window and listened as it made a satisfying tinkle. But nothing moved in the barn.

  He chucked another, harder this time, and heard it crash through the window frame, but again, no reaction came.

  He threw three more, in quick succession, clattering off the roof and crashing to the ground below to make quite a racket. Frustratingly, there wasn’t a peep from the barn.

  Eoin selected the biggest three rocks he had left, and decided to switch targets. He turned and aimed at the front door of the barn, and the first rock crashed noisily through the splintering wood. He followed it with a second, and was just about to throw the third when the door swung open and the headlights of the van broke through the darkness. Two men rushed out into the yard.

  ‘Oi,’ called one. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Bloody kids,’ roared the other. ‘If I catch you…’

  Eoin stayed as still as he could as the pair wandered further away from the door, towards the big house. He wanted to delay them as much as possible, and when they both had their backs to him he lobbed the third, and heaviest, rock onto the roof of the mansion. It crashed through the tiles and fell into the room below. The thieves stared up at the house and Eoin took his chance to dash into the trees.

  ‘Little brats,’ roared the first thief. ‘Should be in bed by now!’

  Eoin made his way quickly out of the grounds, vaulting the gate and breaking into a trot as he hurried towards his grandfather’s cottage. He was dismayed though, to find there were no lights on.

  ‘Of course, Dixie was getting ready for bed when I was here an hour ago,’ he muttered to himself. ‘He won’t be happy, but I’m sure he’ll understand,’ he added as he pressed the doorbell.

  It took a second, and a third ring, before a light came on in the room Eoin knew was Dixie’s bedroom. He waited at the front door as the hall light came on, and called through the glass at the old man.

  ‘I’m sorry, Grandad – I have to use your phone. It’s an emergency.’

  The old man opened the door, looking very concerned.

  ‘Eoin, my boy, come in, come in. Now what’s all this about?’

  Eoin explained as quickly as he could, and asked could he ring the Gardaí.

  ‘Of course, of course, and ring your father as soon as you’re finished with them. You can’t be wandering the streets of Ormondstown late at night with gangsters on the loose.’

  Eoin got through to a garda and told him quickly about the bike thefts – of which the gardaí were aware – and how he believed the stolen bicycles were being stored up at the old haunted mansion.

  ‘And how do you know you haven’t frightened them into leaving?’ asked the garda, a question Eoin couldn’t answer. ‘And is your friend at the house still?’ he added.

  Eoin, again, was unable to tell him.

  ‘But, Garda, can’t you come quickly? There’s two of them so bring reinforcements too.’

  The garda said he would be there as soon as he could, and not to leave Dixie’s house.

  Eoin’s dad arrived before the police and he was unhappy at what his son had been up to. />
  ‘Did you learn nothing from that thing up in Dublin?’ he frowned. ‘The best people to deal with criminals are the gardaí, not fifteen-year-old boys.’

  The pair were waiting at the gate when the police car arrived, carrying two uniformed gardaí and two in plain clothes. Eoin quickly explained what had happened again, and drew a sketch of the lay-out of the buildings on one of the garda’s notebook.

  ‘Now stay here, and don’t dare to come inside that gate again, no matter what happens,’ said the senior policeman. ‘Mr Madden, I’m relying on you to keep your son here.’

  Kevin Madden nodded, and again said how sorry he was.

  ‘No need to apologise,’ said the garda. ‘If this works out the lads will be heroes, but if it doesn’t they’ll have a few awkward questions to answer…’

  Chapter 6

  It was all over in less than five minutes. The gardaí moved in quickly and found the two thieves cowering in their vehicle.

  The garda who arrested them warned them that they didn’t need to say anything, but the two just kept gabbling and pointing at the mansion. What they said didn’t make any sense to the guards.

  ‘I wonder why they didn’t make a run for it when they could?’ asked another garda as they peered inside the van which was stacked full of mostly new bikes.

  ‘There’s why,’ said a third, pointing to the rear tyres of the van, which were as flat as a pizza. ‘Looks like someone has taken a knife to them.’

  The guard shone her torch into the corners of the barn, but when she aimed the beam at the back of the building she was stunned as a red blur flew past her and raced out the back door.

  ‘What was that?’ she called.

  ‘Is there a third man in the gang?’ asked one of the detectives. He ran back out into the yard in time to see the unidentified cycling object race around the side of the house and out towards the main road.

  The garda raced after it on foot, and was still puffing when he got to the gate where he saw Eoin, his dad and another boy wearing a blue rugby shirt standing on the footpath.

  ‘Did you see anyone come by here wearing a red Munster top?’ he asked.

  The trio shook their heads.

  ‘OK,’ said the garda, puzzled. ‘Well, I don’t think it was anything important. Probably another kid.

  ‘I’m glad to report that we have captured the two thieves with a van packed with the stolen bicycles. They’ve been doing this for years across half of Ireland – there might even be a reward for you in this. Or a medal. But for now you need to get home to bed!’

  The boys grinned, delighted that their plan had worked and there had been a happy ending.

  ‘The poor thieves look like they’ve seen a ghost. They’re terrified around there,’ he told them, pointing back at the house.

  Eoin looked at the top floor of the Lubov mansion and smiled as he saw a figure waving to him. He was all white from top to toe, except for his chest on which he wore a red rose.

  As they walked back to Dixie’s house, Dylan burst out laughing.

  ‘That was a quick move, Eoin, fair play to you.’

  Eoin smiled. He had realised Dylan was too conspicuous wearing a red shirt and as he had forgotten to give Dixie his Leinster one it made a perfect disguise to throw the garda off the scent.

  ‘Now get that disgusting blue yoke off me before anyone else sees me in it,’ laughed Dylan.

  He rushed into Dixie’s garden and retrieved the red bicycle he had thrown over the fence a few minutes before.

  ‘Those bikes will be locked up as evidence for months,’ he explained. ‘I couldn’t do without my Red Rover for that long.’

  ‘Are you bringing it up to Dublin?’ asked Eoin.

  ‘I am indeed,’ said Dylan. ‘Are you leaving your blue thing behind?’

  ‘Well, I hadn’t thought of it, to be honest. I suppose if I do we’ll have to go up in the train as there’d be no way of bringing one, let alone two bikes, in the car.’

  Eoin looked at his dad.

  ‘Well, if you’re telling me you don’t want me to spend a whole day driving you up to Dublin and then driving home, I’d be delighted. Dylan, be ready by eleven and I’ll drop your bags to the station. The pair of you can cycle over there on Red Rover and… Blue… berry.’

  ‘Blueberry?’ snapped Eoin. ‘That’s a totally uncool name for a bike. I’m not calling it that.’

  ‘Well you better have a new one by tomorrow or I’ll make sure the nickname “Blueberry” sticks,’ laughed Dylan.

  Chapter 7

  It was hard to sleep after the excitement of the evening, and Eoin was still buzzing when he checked the time just after three o’clock. He got up for a drink of water and stood at the window looking out into the night.

  Night-time was magical in Ormondstown: The deep darkness, the silence, and being able to wander down to a kitchen at any time were all things he missed about home since he had begun life in Castlerock College, the boarding school that had become home for the past four years.

  He tiptoed back up to his room where his bags and suitcases were stacked just inside the door. Just before he slipped into bed he remembered Dixie’s present, which he hadn’t finished reading yet. He took it from the shelf and tucked it inside the Leinster kitbag.

  His mother called him early and delivered a huge breakfast to the table when he sat down.

  ‘You’ll need a good meal inside you for the journey,’ she insisted.

  Eoin grinned and gave up any thoughts of starting a disagreement over the diet his rugby coach had asked him to follow. He enjoyed the mountain of bacon, eggs and sausages even more knowing that he would back training soon enough.

  He made his farewells to his mother, and gave the Leinster shirt to Dixie who had called over to see him off.

  ‘That was quite a to-do last night,’ said his grandfather. ‘I’m glad to hear it all worked out in the end – you gave me quite a fright when you called so late.’

  Eoin apologised again, and promised he wouldn’t do it again.

  ‘We’ll see you in the Aviva, Grandad, it’s only a few weeks away now.’

  Eoin’s dad drove the luggage down to Dylan’s house while he cycled behind. They loaded up Dylan’s gear and the boys raced ahead to the railway station. When they got there Eoin’s dad presented them with a serious problem.

  ‘So how are you going to bring that stuff all the way over to Castlerock?’ he asked, pointing at the stack of luggage on the footpath. ‘It would be dangerous to try to cycle with it piled on your crossbar.’

  The boys’ faces fell. ‘I suppose we could push the bikes?’ suggested Dylan.

  ‘It’s about ten kilometres,’ signed Eoin. ‘It would take us hours.’

  ‘And no taxi would take all that amount of stuff – and two bikes as well,’ said Kevin.

  They stared dejectedly at each other before Kevin offered to ring the school to see if anyone would be able to collect them.

  On the train, the boys relaxed and chatted about the new year stretching out in front of them.

  ‘I just can’t wait for the summer,’ said Dylan. ‘For all the exams to be over and a chance to stay in bed all morning.’

  ‘We’ve a good bit to go before we get there,’ laughed Eoin. ‘We’ve got the Junior Cup to win again, and I might get onto this Ireland team for the Four Nations, or whatever they’re going to call it.’

  ‘What’s this?’ bristled Dylan, who had been called up for the mini World Cup as last-minute cover when the Ireland team had an injury crisis. He was a very good winger but wasn’t quite at the standard to be on the Ireland starting team.

  ‘Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it,’ blushed Eoin. ‘With all the fuss over the bikes and that… There’s a competition for the mini World Cup teams – England, Scotland and Wales are coming over – I got a letter from the IRFU yesterday.’

  ‘Fair play to you. I suppose there’ll be no look-in for any of the lads on the fringe of the squad?’
/>   ‘I don’t know, Dyl. Why don’t you ask?’

  ‘Because they’d laugh me out of it, that’s why. I suppose I’ll just have to turn it on in the JCT and see where that gets me.’

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Eoin, ‘They know who you are and what you can do. The injured lads must be OK now, but who knows what will happen in the next ten weeks. Train hard and play well, and there’s no way they can ignore you.’

  Chapter 8

  Mr Finn met the boys at the station, and led them into the car park where he had left the school minibus. Dylan and Eoin lifted their bikes in between the seats and tucked their bags in around them.

  ‘Your dad gave me a call,’ said Mr Finn, a retired schoolmaster who had stayed around Castlerock to help out when needed. ‘Happily, nobody else was using the minibus so here I am.’

  The boys thanked him again, and Mr Finn asked how they had been since he had last seen them – the day they won the mini World Cup.

  ‘Dixie was so thrilled that afternoon,’ said Mr Finn, who was one of Eoin’s grandfather’s oldest friends.

  ‘It was pretty special,’ agreed Eoin. ‘There’s no doubt pulling on that green jersey, no matter at what level, gives you an amazing feeling.’

  Dylan nodded and looked down. He had been part of the winning squad and had a winners’ medal too, but because he hadn’t got out on the field he didn’t feel quite the same way as Eoin. He still felt uncomfortable about wearing the green jersey and would never do so in public like he did with his Munster shirt.

  ‘Well, I hope you both get the chance to wear the Ireland Schools shirt next, then the Under 20s and who knows after that. But get a move on – Dixie and I won’t be around forever, you know,’ he chuckled.

  Mr Finn was a careful driver and the journey back to school took far longer than they had expected, but the boys enjoyed it nonetheless. Mr Finn had taught history and he and Eoin discussed William Webb Ellis and the way he had been credited with inventing rugby.