Authors: Gerard Siggins
. . . . . . . . .
T
HE trip down the country had heartened Eoin. Although he enjoyed life in Castlerock, still missed his mam and dad, and his grandfather, of course.
Back at school the history teacher, Mr Dunne, had informed them that even though it was fantastic that Eoin had won the Historian of the Year competition the previous year, there just wasn’t enough time in the school timetable to defend his title. Eoin was secretly happy; he had worked very hard on the project, but he knew the reason he had won was the advantage he had been given by his ghostly friend Dave Gallaher.
Mr Dunne wasn’t letting them totally off the hook, however, as a project was part of the preparation for the state exams and he expected them all to come up with a strong topic by the next History class.
He collared Eoin as the class broke up.
‘I know you’re busy with rugby and everything else, Eoin,’ the teacher started, ‘But you really have a talent for history and I’d like you to spend a bit of time working out a good topic. You could be in line for an A next
year if you get the right idea for a project. See what you come across and we’ll talk next week.’
It was a warm day so after school Eoin and Alan went for a ramble down to the woods. Eoin told Alan how Dylan had also been able to see Brian, but was a bit rattled by the experience.
Alan laughed. ‘I wish I could see Brian more often. He seemed like such a nice lad. And knowing a ghost is so cool …’
They stepped into the bushes and walked past where the stream flowed, where they saw someone digging at the base of the Rock.
‘Hello?’ Eoin started.
The young man stood up, and Eoin realised he had seen him some weeks before. Up close he recognised the Belvedere College rugby jersey that he was wearing.
‘Excuse me,’ the young man said, ‘I didn’t hear you coming. I recognise you from somewhere, don’t I?’
Eoin shrugged, ‘I don’t know how, my name is Eoin Madden, and this is Alan Handy. Who are you?’
‘I’m sorry, of course I should have introduced myself. My name is Kevin, Kevin Barry …’ he replied.
Eoin and Alan’s eyes widened.
‘
The
Kevin Barry?’ Eoin interrupted. ‘We went to Kilmainham Jail a few weeks ago… The tour guide told
us all about your execution.’
‘Yeah, our teacher even sang a ballad about you on the bus back afterwards,’ said Alan.
‘I remember now,’ started Kevin. ‘I’m often up there too seeing some old comrades, and I was in that yard when you guys were being taken around – I remember Alan here acting the maggot – and heard the old teacher mention my name. I didn’t think anyone knew much about me anymore, except for that terrible song I keep hearing …’
‘What’s brought you to Castlerock,’ Eoin asked, ‘Was it because you saw us at Kilmainham?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s something going on, though. I saw another ghost here last night too. He told me that he only appears here when there’s a problem …’
‘That would be Brian,’ said Eoin. ‘He was killed playing rugby at Lansdowne Road.’
‘I remember playing at Lansdowne Road. I think I played rugby here once for Belvedere – we hammered you if memory serves me correct.’
‘Ha, well that wouldn’t happen anymore!’ Eoin grinned.
‘Do Belvo still play?’ asked Kevin.
‘Yeah, they do,’ replied Alan. ‘They’re not bad, but even Castlerock would expect to beat them and we’ve
won nothing in years.’
Eoin stared at the new arrival. He was perplexed by the arrival of a third ghost at the school.
Why me?
he thought.
‘Has anyone else been able to see you since you died?’ asked Alan.
‘No … I don’t think so,’ replied Kevin. ‘It’s hard to know, because sometimes I see people staring at me, but they never approach me. I was always a bit shy too, and I’m not mad on talking about the whole “being dead” thing.’
‘I don’t really understand the ghost thing either,’ said Eoin. ‘You’re the third I’ve met in about two years and no-one else was able to see them. But now Alan can see ghosts if he’s with me.’
‘Maybe it’s because there was a crisis when I saw Brian for the first time?’ asked Alan. ‘Maybe Kevin here is going to solve the mystery of the thefts?’
‘Hold up there, please,’ said Kevin. ‘I’m no detective, I’m just a long-dead medical student. I’m no good at all at mysteries.’
‘All right,’ grinned Eoin, ‘don’t worry about that. I don’t want to even start explaining mobile phones to you!’
The trio sat chatting about school and rugby for a
while, before Eoin had a brainwave.
‘Would you mind if I interviewed you about your life?’ he asked Kevin. ‘We have a big project to do in history class and you would be perfect.’
‘So I’m a part of history now?’ sighed Kevin.
‘Yes, kids in school are taught about you. Don’t you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t. But I suppose that’s nice, really. I just did my bit. It wasn’t much.’
‘I really would like to find out more about you. Please?’
‘Well, alright then. Bring your ink-pen and jotter down here tomorrow and we can talk.’
‘Eh … “ink-pen”? I think you’ve got a lot to learn about modern schools! OK then, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Kevin disappeared and Eoin and Alan wandered back to the dorm.
‘Smart idea, Eoin,’ Alan said. ‘Sorry I didn’t think of it first.’
‘Yeah, well that’s why I’m Young Historian of the Year and you’re not,’ he laughed, turning up the pace and leaving Alan behind as he raced up the staircase.
. . . . . . . . .
T
HE Junior Cup team’s first game was against St Osgur’s, and Eoin took his place on the touch-line in Donnybrook. These games always drew a large crowd both of pupils and past pupils of the schools, heaping even more pressure on the players.
That wasn’t something that concerned Eoin, who had kept his nerve to kick a last-second conversion in front of an almost-full Aviva Stadium to win the Father Geoghegan Cup. That had been an amazing experience, which capped his first year at Castlerock – and his first playing rugby.
It was different now – he was acknowledged as a very good player and his promotion to the JCT squad was recognition of this.
The teams lined up for press photographs, and as they broke up Eoin gave a wave to his classmates as they fooled around in various green and white outfits, carrying banners proclaiming the greatness of Castlerock.
The players certainly showed it on the field, romping to a 24-0 lead at half-time.
‘That was good work, lads,’ Mr Carey said at the break. ‘We are in good control up front, and the backs have kept everything simple. I want to empty the bench over the second half, to give you all a taste of a big crowd, but I won’t do anything till the last twenty minutes. Keep doing what you’re doing and try to build on that lead.’
The second row, JD Muldowney, scored two tries for Castlerock and widened the margin between them and St Osgur’s, and Mr Carey brought on four new forwards half-way through the second period. He nodded to Eoin and the rest of the replacements, and opened his hand wide to show them they would be on in five minutes.
Eoin kept his focus on the game, afraid to even think about his nerves, just preparing for his call-up.
‘Right, Madden, Touhy, Gillespie, warm up there. You’re on at the next break in play.’
Eoin did a series of short sprints up the touchline, ignoring the calls of encouragement and banter that were coming from his pals, and when Mr Carey signalled them to go on, he went straight to his position.
‘No special instructions from coach then?’ asked Devin.
‘No, he just said “keep it tight and keep the scoreline blank”,’ replied Eoin.
Castlerock’s forwards were much bigger and stronger than their opponents and every scrum, line-out, ruck or maul was a walkover. Eoin got a few passes and kicked them all upfield where the forwards were soon feeding them back once again.
Into the last minute the lead had mounted to 39-0 when JD knocked the ball on and the St Osgur’s
scrum-half
gathered and galloped upfield. Eoin was quickest off in pursuit and by the time he had crossed the Castlerock 22 he was on the No.9’s shoulder. The Osgur’s player looked behind him and the sight of Eoin right in his tracks seemed to rattle him into a moment’s hesitation. Eoin struck ten metres from the line, a flying tackle knocking the player and sending the ball spilling out of his hands and rolling end-over-end across the dead ball line.
Eoin helped the St Osgur’s scrum-half to his feet as the referee blew the final whistle. ‘Sorry about that,’ he grinned sheepishly.
‘Ah, sure we were well outclassed,’ came the reply. ‘We didn’t really deserve a consolation try.’
The Castlerock fans cheered as the teams came off, and Mr Carey had a rare, broad grin across his face.
‘Superb stuff, men,’ he said. ‘That was a very efficient performance and you deserve to have won by that
margin. Now, we’re in the quarter-finals and every game from now on will be a lot harder. So let’s see you all for a light run-out tomorrow after school and we’ll discuss what we can do better.’
Later that evening, Eoin lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling until his eyes started to feel heavy. The term was flying past, and he had trained almost every day. He felt really fit, but also needed more sleep than usual.
‘Eoin …’ came a hesitant voice. ‘Are you awake?’
Eoin opened his eyes, and was a little startled to see Brian standing at the end of his bed. Brian had never come into the school before, besides one visit to the library.
‘Brian, what are you doing here?’
‘Sorry, Eoin. A voice came to me telling me to talk to you as soon as possible. I hope you don’t mind me visiting you here.’
‘It’s OK, but what have you to tell me?’
‘I’m not even sure what it means,’ Brian replied. ‘But the message was “get someone to twist the rose on the fireplace as you push down on the opposite corners of the trapdoor”. Does that make any sense to you?’
Eoin asked Brian to repeat the instructions before he explained about the trapdoor and the stolen phones.
Brian was surprisingly up-to-date on mobile telephones, having spent most of the time since his death at the stadium on Lansdowne Road, where he saw the changing fashions and advancing technologies over the best part of a century.
‘Thanks, Brian.’ said Eoin, ‘I’d better wait till the lads get back before I try that. By the way I hear you’ve met the other ghost, Kevin?’
‘Yes, and quite a surprise it was to me. He’s a nice lad but there’s a bit of a mystery about him … I think he’s looking for something down at the Rock.’
. . . . . . . . .
A
LAN and Dylan came up to the dorm soon after Brian had left, and Eoin explained his mysterious message.
‘You really seem to have some serious connections with the ghostly world, Eoin,’ said Alan. ‘Someone’s trying to help us.’
There was a black iron rose in the middle of the old, blocked-up fireplace, and Alan gripped hold of it as the other pair clambered under the bed.
‘Now,’ called Eoin as he and Dylan pushed down at the corners of the trapdoor. The rose was stuck, and needed some serious effort by Alan, but he soon worked it loose and a noisy mechanism cranked into life behind the walls.
The trapdoor felt loose under Eoin’s hand. He pushed hard until the corner came free and he and Dylan got their hands underneath it. They pushed the heavy trapdoor aside and stared down into the hole.
‘Has anyone got a torch?’ Eoin called, and Alan brought him the bicycle lamp he used for late-night reading.
Eoin paused, shining the light down and spotting that a short staircase led up to the opening. He looked at his friends, grinned nervously, and said, ‘Here goes.’
Down he stepped, sweeping the lamp from left to right as he went. At the bottom he called to his friends who followed him down, first Dylan and then Alan. They shone the lamp around as their eyes got used to the darkness. On the left hand wall stood a doorway with a bolt across it, sealed with a huge lock. On the right was another door which appeared to be ajar.
‘Do you want to go in there?’ asked Eoin.
‘Yeah, let’s see where it leads,’ replied Dylan.
‘Hang on, guys, just wait a second. We heard the phones down here – shouldn’t we look for them first?’ suggested Alan.
Eoin flashed the light around, taking care to light up every corner of the room and, sure enough, the three stolen mobiles were sitting on a small bench against the far wall.
‘Hang on,’ said Dylan. ‘We shouldn’t touch them yet – then the thieves will know we’ve been here. They don’t seem to want them immediately; maybe we should leave them here until the teachers come.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Alan.
Eoin turned to the open door and slipped through
without touching the handle. He found himself in a corridor, and about fifteen metres away he spotted a ladder. He showed it to his pals, holding his index finger to his lips to show them he wanted them to be silent, and started up the ladder.
He stopped at the top where he found another
trapdoor
, and listened. There was a muffled sound of talking and laughing, and the edges of the opening leaked light.
He carefully went back down the ladder, again motioning to Alan and Dylan to stay quiet, and led them back along the corridor. He counted his paces as he went, and finished at the foot of the staircase to their own dorm.
‘23, 24, 25 … 26,’ he finished.
‘What was that about?’ asked Dylan.
‘He’s counting the steps from our room to whoever else has been using the passageway,’ said Alan. ‘If he counts twenty-six steps out the door of our dorm he’ll be outside their door.’
‘Exactly,’ grinned Eoin. ‘Now what do you want to do about the phone, Alan? I’m inclined to agree with Dyl and leave it there for the moment.’
Alan went along with the plan and the trio climbed back into their bedroom. Without a second’s delay, Eoin began counting again, strode out the door and turned
left down the corridor. He went silent as he neared the end of his sequence, and mouthed ‘26’ to his friends as he stopped right outside the door to dormitory number 11.
Alan’s eyes widened as Dylan’s face darkened.
The trio turned on their heels and went back to their dorm, closing the door firmly behind them.
They looked at each other, wary of what would happen next.
Alan was first to speak the word they all had at the front of their minds. ‘Duffy!’