Milo and the Pirate Sisters (7 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A GARDA VISIT

W
e got up late in the morning. Mister Lewis offered us some honey, but we declined now that we’d seen up close how the bees make it. Anyway, we had to get to school.

We tip-toed past the ghostly sisters’ door, and nobody jumped out at us. They’d probably been out spooking all night.

It felt so good to be out in the morning sun and to breathe in the fresh air that went
all the way down to the bottom of our lungs. Even going to school felt good, though we hadn’t done our homework, and we were late because there hadn’t been anyone to waken us. Across the field we could see that the horses were back on their own territory. Shane wanted to count them to make sure they were all there, but that would have taken ages. When we came towards the school gate, there was a Garda car outside.

‘Oh, oh,’ muttered Shane. ‘Are we in trouble, Milo?’

‘I hope my dad isn’t there,’ I groaned.

Hope wasn’t listening to me just then because Dad
was
there, standing beside Mrs Riley, the school principal, interrogating Wedge and Crunch in the empty schoolyard. We nipped over the wall to hide in the bicycle shed.

‘We didn’t do it,’ Wedge was protesting.
‘We never went near those horses.’

‘Yeah, we were there, but we did nothing,’ Crunch protested.

‘There were raggy people throwing stones at us from the bushes,’ put in Wedge. ‘I bet they were the ones who stole our sword. We paid two euro for that, didn’t we, Crunch? They’d be the ones you should be looking for. And our pirate flag is missing too.’

‘Hold it there, lads! You were seen running from the field,’ said Dad.

‘That’s because we were scared,’ Crunch whinged.

‘Scared of what?’ asked Mrs Riley, her anger making her moustache wobble.

‘Of the ghost—’ Crunch began, until Wedge nudged him in the ribs.

‘A ghost
and
raggy people?’ Dad said with a laugh. ‘Now I’ve heard everything. And, by the way, you were also seen fishing
from Mister Looney’s old boat and now it’s missing. Come on, you two. You have a lot of explaining to do.’

‘NO! Hang on a sec, Dad!’ I shouted, running from the shed.

‘Milo?’ Dad looked at me. ‘What’s all this …?’

‘They didn’t do it, Dad.’

‘And how do you know this, son?’

I knew by Dad’s face he was thinking that Wedge and Crunch had some sort of hold over me and Shane. Which I suppose they had, but I couldn’t see them taking the flak for something they didn’t do.

‘Well, they
were
fishing in an old boat in the river,’ I said.

‘That’s right,’ added Shane, having got over his amazement of me taking sides with two thugs.

‘Then they went home,’ I said. ‘The boat
was there after they left. Shane and me hung around there for a good while, Dad,’ I went on. ‘We saw them later going to the cinema.’

‘That’s the honest truth, Guard,’ said Crunch. ‘My ma would’ve clobbered me if I was home late.’

Dad looked at me again. ‘Are you sure about this, Milo?’

‘It’s true, Dad. I’d be the first to tell you if they messed with the horses, and why would they take the boat away from where they fish?’

‘Fair enough, son,’ said Dad. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘Right, you boys,’ sighed Mrs Riley, looking slightly miffed that she wasn’t getting rid of Wedge and Crunch after all. ‘Back to your classes.’

‘What has made you two late for school?’ Dad asked as he got into the Garda car.

I struggled to come up with an answer, but it was Dad who provided one. ‘I bet it was because Big Ella cooked up a big breakfast for you after your sleepover and you were dawdling along to school.’ He laughed as he switched on the ignition.

‘Whew, that was close,’ I sighed as Dad drove away.

There was a man talking to the class when we went in. He stopped speaking and everyone turned to look at us.

‘You’re late, you two,’ said Miss Lee. ‘Sit down and listen to Mister Sullivan. He is the new football coach while Mister Dunne is away.’

I groaned and rested my head on my arms.

‘Oh shoot,’ Shane whispered to me. ‘If I’d known there was to be more bloomin’ football, I’d have stayed with the hags in the mill.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

STARS OF THE FUTURE

W
e didn’t see Mister Lewis during the next two days because our class had football training in the yard after school. Shane told Miss Lee that he had ‘a wicked bad muscle on his left leg’. And then he sat back and gave me a smarmy grin. Why hadn’t I thought of that? He parked himself on the school wall while the rest of us were marched
out to the yard for the first bit of training. How he gloated at me as we were made to do all the boring exercises like running up and down like a herd of donkeys and doing those up-and-down squats that make your legs scream. The more pained my face was, the more Shane’s belly shook with laughter whenever I glanced his way.

‘OK, lads,’ said Mister Sullivan finally as he clapped his hands. ‘That’s good going for your first day. Tomorrow you’ll work with footballs. Be sure to bring your soccer gear.’

‘Ha!’ Shane laughed when we were walking home from school, and my legs were totally screaming with pain. ‘Poor Milo. Why didn’t you say you had a sore leg – oh no!’ He patted my shoulder. ‘I’d already picked that one. Tough luck. Never mind,’ he went on, ‘I’ll always be there to cheer you on and buy you a soothing ice-cream
on the way home.’

His words went right up my nose and, in spite of my aching muscles, I chased after him. When he turned around to taunt me, he almost ran into Miss Lee coming out of the bookshop.

‘Ah, Shane,’ she said, holding his shoulder. ‘How is that “wicked” leg?’

‘Very s-s-sore, Miss,’ he stuttered.

‘You poor thing,’ Miss Lee tut-tutted. ‘Which leg is giving you such pain?’

Shane looked down at his legs, trying to figure out the ‘sore’ one. Even I remembered it was the left, but Shane is the type who says things and then forgets what he said. Just like now.

‘This one, Miss,’ he said, doing a big limp on his right leg. ‘Or maybe it’s the other one,’ he went on when he saw me shaking my head.

‘Ah, so the bad leg is better then,’ Miss Lee smiled.

‘No, eh, yes,’ Shane continued, making a right ass of himself.

‘A miracle, Shane.’ Miss Lee laughed.

‘Yes, Miss,’ Shane muttered, still looking at his legs as if he’d never seen them before.

‘Well, isn’t that wonderful!’ Miss Lee continued. ‘Now you’ll be able to play football with the rest of the class tomorrow.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BIG ELLA'S PLAN

A
few days later, when we went as usual to Shane's house after school, we were delighted to see Mister Lewis sitting on the sofa with his gloved hands curled around a mug of hot chocolate.

‘What's up, Mister Lewis?' asked Shane, straight to the point as usual. ‘Your mouth is hanging down. Is it those women, huh? They still bothering you?'

‘What women?' asked Big Ella, coming
through from the kitchen with a plate of sandwiches.

Oops! There was a silence.

‘Eh,' began Mister Lewis.

‘Em,' I muttered.

‘A bad lot of crones who are bothering Mister Lewis,' said Shane, even though we weren't supposed to mention Mister Lewis's screechy neighbours.

‘Go on,' said Big Ella, setting down the teapot. ‘Do tell.'

Well, when Big Ella says ‘do something', you do it. So bit by bit we told her about the women who had Mister Lewis in a knot of fear and were probably the raggy people who threw stones at Wedge and Crunch. As we were speaking, Big Ella glanced sympathetically at Mister Lewis as he sank lower and lower in his chair.

‘Well, I'm glad I asked,' she said when we
had told her everything, including how the women ate all her snacks and cakes because they hadn't eaten decent food for four hundred years.

‘My cakes?' she bellowed. ‘The cheek! Tell me what they look like, these mischief-makers?'

‘They wear pirate hats,' said Shane.

‘Filthy clothes,' I added.

‘They look scary,' said Mister Lewis with a shiver.

‘Right,' said Big Ella. ‘At the weekend we'll go and put those madams in their place.'

‘NO, Gran!' Shane spluttered through his biscuit. ‘They're horrible. They'll scare you to death and I'll have to live here by myself and become a lonely old geezer like Mister Lewis!'

‘You wash your mouth out, boy,' snapped
Big Ella. ‘Nobody gets the better of Big Ella. Right?'

‘Right,' muttered Shane.

Then Mister Lewis put in his spoke. ‘The boy is right, my dear,' he sighed. ‘Nobody could tame these women.'

‘Excuse me!' said Big Ella, her eyes blazing.
‘I'm
a woman and I know how to handle them. Now, you lot, tell me everything.'

And so we did as she asked, right down to the women's filthy clothes and scruffy hair.

Mister Lewis got up from his chair reluctantly. ‘I had better go,' he sighed.

‘Don't you worry about a thing, my friend,' said Big Ella, brushing down Mister Lewis's dusty coat, which made us all cough. ‘Those upstarts will feel the wrath of Big Ella.'

Mister Lewis doffed his hat before wafting off to his miserable home.

‘Gran,' said Shane, carefully. ‘Are you sure
you can help Mister Lewis …?'

‘Look at me, boy,' she said. ‘Have you ever seen me fear anything? Ever?'

‘Well, not since the time you freaked out when that spider with hairy legs and shiny eyes—' began Shane.

‘Shush, boy,' said Big Ella. ‘That's different.'

I did everything to stay up late that night so that I wouldn't have nightmares. All that talk of those horrible women and the thoughts of going back to the mill, even with Big Ella, had totally freaked me out. I even asked to wait until Dad came home from night duty, but Mum insisted. ‘Now that you're back playing soccer,' she said proudly, ‘you'll need all the sleep you can get. You look at all those rich soccer players. They go to bed really early so that they'll be well fit for their matches and make stacks of money.'

‘Mum,' I said. ‘I'm not a baby. I know what they do and going to bed early is not one of them. I've seen their photos in your magazines.'

She laughed and ruffled my hair, just like she used to do when I was a kid. I wished I was that kid and that there were no spooks of any kind in my life.

‘Don't forget to close your window,' she called out. ‘I had to open it because I got the smell of socks from the landing.'

That could only mean one thing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A SURPRISE VISITOR

‘
I
know you’re here,’ I whispered.

‘Ah, Milo, lad,’ said Mister Lewis, stepping out of the wardrobe. ‘I just thought I’d, eh, slip over for a chat.’

‘They annoyed you again, didn’t they?’ I said. ‘Those women.’

He shrugged his skinny shoulders. ‘It’s the small one,’ he sighed. ‘Now that there’s
no door she keeps coming into my place because she says her sisters are too loud. She looks through my books and talks to my poor, tired bees. And,’ he added, ‘she constantly asks if there’s any chance of getting food like her sisters had been eating. She never shuts up, Milo.’

‘Well, let’s sleep on it, Mister Lewis,’ I yawned, going over to close the window.

‘WAAGH!’ I yelled, jumping back.

Tara’s creepy, beaming face at the window caused me to fall down in shock.

‘I followed the old man,’ she laughed, climbing into the room. ‘What manner of place is this?’ she asked, running around like a demented spinning top. She bounced on the bed, waving her tacky pirate hat, then pressed the button on my bedside lamp on and off several times before the bulb blew.

‘Hush, girl,’ Mister Lewis whispered. ‘This is Milo’s home.’

‘How many families live here?’ she asked.

‘Just me and my mum and dad,’ I hissed. ‘Now please get down and be quiet.’

‘What is a mum-and-dad?’ she asked.

Trying to catch her was like trying to land a slippery eel – not that I’ve ever tried that, but you know what I mean. In a flash, she was out the door and humming her way down the stairs.

‘Stop her, Mister Lewis! FLY!’ I hissed, taking the stairs two at a time.

Tara had just reached the half-open door of the lounge and was about to step inside.

‘Ah, got you,’ sighed Mister Lewis as he grabbed her with his gloved hands and pulled her away from the door. I ran in instead. Mum was sitting on the sofa, looking puzzled. ‘Oh, it’s you, Milo,’ she
said. ‘I could have sworn I saw a tatty little girl with a hat standing at the door.’

‘Maybe you were falling asleep and, eh, got mixed up with telly and reality,’ I said.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, still looking puzzled. ‘I may even have dozed off. So, what has brought you downstairs?’

This called for quick thinking. ‘A hug, Mum. I forgot to give you a goodnight hug.’