Milo and the Pirate Sisters (2 page)
Read Milo and the Pirate Sisters Online
Authors: Mary Arrigan
‘
W
here did you get the trolley?’ asked Shane, as we walked towards the town.
‘I borrowed it,’ Mister Lewis chuckled.
‘You nicked it?’ I exclaimed. ‘If you’re caught—!’
‘Oh, I won’t be caught,’ he said. ‘But you boys make sure
you’re
not caught.’
‘Us?’ put in Shane. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you have offered to help,’ said Mister Lewis.
‘Why can’t you just go invisible and push the trolley?’ I asked.
‘How do you think that would look, Milo?’ Mister Lewis went on. ‘A full trolley steering its way through the town all by itself?’
Well, he had a point. There was no answer to that.
‘So will you help me, boys? We’re close to town and I have to go invisible in case old ladies faint or cars crash, or my nose wobbles or I accidentally waft off the ground, or—’
‘All right, Mister Lewis,’ I interrupted. ‘We’ll do it. But you’d better stick around.’
‘No worries,’ said Mister Lewis.
‘I wish I could go invisible too,’ Shane whispered. ‘Especially if someone squeals to Big Ella that I was up to no good with a supermarket trolley full of stuff.’
‘What about me?’ I hissed into Shane’s ear.
You see, my dad is a Garda. Imagine having to haul your own son before some judge with a face like broken granite. My dad says judges have to have granite faces before they can qualify to wear those woolly wigs made from sheep’s ringlets.
So Mister Lewis did go invisible, which made good sense: how would me and Shane explain why we were walking along the busy street with a waxy-faced man wearing a long, dusty old coat and crooked hat, wheeling a supermarket trolley full of junk? The only scare was when we took a short-cut past the old abandoned knickers factory. The wee-waw of a speeding Garda car caused me and Shane to duck, but luckily my dad wasn’t in it – the Garda car, I mean, not the knickers factory. When we’d left the town, Mister Lewis appeared again, sitting on top of the stuff
in the trolley. He yawned and stretched his skinny arms.
‘Ah, that was a grand sleep. Thanks, lads.’
‘You mean we’ve been pushing you all the way?’ spluttered Shane. ‘Cheek!’
‘But I weigh nothing at all,’ laughed Mister Lewis as he wafted off the trolley.
‘Cool,’ Shane laughed. ‘I wish I could weigh nothing at all.’
‘And miss Big Ella’s awesome cakes and buns?’ I put in.
Shane patted his roundy tummy. ‘Hmm. Maybe not,’ he grinned.
B
eyond the town, we stopped just before the bridge across the river.
‘Here we are,’ said Mister Lewis.
‘Is this it?’ asked Shane. ‘You’re going to live in the river? I know you’re a kinda ghost, Mister Lewis, but you shouldn’t need to live with fishes.’
‘Fishes, Shane? Look over there,’ Mister
Lewis went on, pointing farther up the river.
‘The old mill? I exclaimed. ‘It’s a bit …’ I couldn’t think of a single comforting word.
‘It’s a dump.’ Trust Shane to be upfront about it. ‘A total dump, Mister Lewis. And scary,’ he added. ‘Nobody goes there, ever.’
He was right. From here the mill looked derelict. The big wheel was falling apart and there were slates missing from the roof.
Mister Lewis sighed and shook his head. ‘This was built after my, eh, sudden death,’ he said. ‘How very strange that it’s already in ruins. Mills were built to last a long time. I saw it for the first time only yesterday. See, it has decent walls and some of the roof looks quite OK.’
‘Did you go inside?’ I asked.
‘No, Milo,’ he replied. ‘I figured that if the outside is sound, the inside will be dry. And the scenery is quite picturesque,’ he went
on, pointing to the distant trees and a bunch of horses munching grass in a field.
‘Yeah, all very pretty if it was a picture hanging on a wall, Mister Lewis,’ I said. ‘But as a place to live in? No way.’
‘It will do, Milo,’ he sighed. ‘At least I’ll have a roof of some sort over my head.’
‘And hopefully over your toes,’ said Shane. ‘Big Ella goes mental about wet feet. It’s to do with when we lived in Africa. She says people can get deadly diseases from dirty water.’
‘I haven’t actually seen my feet for well over a hundred years,’ laughed Mister Lewis.
‘That’s gross,’ I said. ‘Don’t they smell?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never had a reason to take off my boots – even if I could bend down that far.’
‘You mean you haven’t washed your feet since you died?’ I exclaimed.
‘Well, I hate having a bath too,’ Shane put in. ‘No matter what way I sit I nearly always get stuck. They make baths far too small,’ he grunted.
‘And perhaps they make crisps and chocolate far too big,’ said Mister Lewis.
We all laughed at that.
We pushed the trolley down the road towards the bridge.
Mister Lewis stopped halfway across. ‘See, boys,’ he said, ‘the mill’s not so bad, looking at it from here. Some of those windows are not even broken.’
When we went along the track through the field towards the mill, Mister Lewis had to stop and sit down beside the trolley. ‘I’m pooped,’ he wheezed. ‘Just give me a minute to crank up the old lungs.’
Shane and I ran over to where there were horses corralled and climbed onto the
wooden gate. We were totally thrilled when the horses galloped over to us and let us pat their noses and ruffle their manes.
‘This is so cool, Milo,’ laughed Shane. ‘I’ve never touched a horse’s nose before. It feels like velvet.’
We patted each of them in turn as they jumped in front of one another to get our attention.
‘This must be what a king feels like when his subjects dance all around him.’ Shane beamed. ‘I’d like to be a king. Where could you learn how to be a king, Milo?’
I laughed and shook my head. Sometimes Shane has the most amazingly mad ideas.
‘Mister Lewis,’ he called out, ‘come and see the horses. They’re so tame and friendly and their noses are made of velvet.’
Mister Lewis eased himself up and half walked and half wafted over. When he
leaned on the gate, the strangest, creepiest thing happened. All the horses backed away in a sort of stomping panic. They jostled one another to get as far away as possible. Their shrill, screechy screams were so loud that we had to put our hands over our ears. They thundered away across the field, still snorting and kicking up grass and mud.
Mister Lewis shrugged his shoulders. ‘Noisy creatures,’ he muttered and headed back to the trolley.
Strangely enough, when he was gone the horses stopped whinnying.
T
ogether we wheeled the trolley across the bumpy field towards the mill. There was a scruffy-looking boat moored in the river. We laughed when we saw the big, badly painted skull and crossbones flapping on a stick at the rear end of the boat. As we came nearer we could see two guys fishing. They were turned away from us, but there
was no mistaking the backs of their bony heads.
‘It’s Wedge and Crunch!’ exclaimed Shane.
‘It’s OK, Shane,’ I said. ‘You’ll sort them out, won’t you, Mister Lewis?’
We both looked around, but there was no sign of our ghostly buddy.
‘Mister Lewis,’ Shane hissed.
But there was still no sign of the only person who could sort out those two bullies.
‘Quick!’ said Shane, wobbling with fear. ‘Let’s move it.’
We tried to turn the trolley around, but it was too late. They’d spotted us. There was no point in running away as they’d catch us anyway because of the trolley.
‘Well well, it’s the dozy duo again,’ said Wedge with a smirky smile. ‘We’ll have to stop meeting like this.’
They both put down their rods, hopped
off the boat and came towards us, Crunch waving a cheapo toy sword.
‘Going for a picnic, guys?’ Crunch called out, his bee-stung nose covered with green ointment.
‘Yeah,’ shouted Wedge. ‘What’s all that stuff in the stolen supermarket trolley? Tut, tut, Milo. Won’t Daddy-the-cop throw a fit?’
As they came closer, Shane and myself stood together like a pair of clowns in a circus waiting for someone to throw a bucket of water over them. But the thing that hurt me the most was that Mister Lewis had abandoned us.
‘Milo,’ whispered Shane as I braced myself for the first whack.
‘Shush,’ I said through my clenched teeth. The enemy were almost on us.
‘But Milo,’ Shane hissed. ‘Look behind!’
So I did, and my lungs began working
again when I saw a pair of dusty boots beginning to materialise. Just as Wedge grabbed my tee-shirt and Shane was being hassled by Crunch, the almost complete body of Mister Lewis rose up – apart from one side of his head, which was missing!
‘Hello boys,’ he said softly.
Wedge and Crunch froze, then screamed and ran like they’d seen a ghost – which is what they did see, of course.
‘Wait, you chaps!’ Mister Lewis shouted, waving his hat as he wafted after them.
Howling like sick wolves, Crunch and Wedge were racing across the bridge.
Mister Lewis stopped and wafted back to us, most of his head in place again, except for an ear and an eyebrow.
‘Not using your head was a mighty stroke, Mister Lewis. How did you do that?’ I asked.
‘Do what, Milo?’ he asked.
‘Your head,’ laughed Shane. ‘Half of it was missing.’
‘Oh dear, my head,’ sighed Mister Lewis. ‘Not again! Last time that happened was years ago when I first moved into the castle in town.’
‘What’s that got to do with losing heads?’ I asked.
‘Oh,’ Mister Lewis sighed again. ‘It’s a well known fact that moving house is one of the most stressful things in one’s life. And here I am about to move into a derelict old mill. And,’ he went on, ‘the bees, I was sorry about the bees. I just wanted to apologise to those young boys.’
‘You
what
?’ we both cried out.
‘But … but they’re the ones who snatched the bag,’ I reminded him.
‘I know,’ Mister Lewis sighed again.
‘And why did you disappear, anyway?’
Shane asked. ‘We thought you’d done a runner on us.’
‘I’d never do anything like that to my best friends,’ Mister Lewis said. ‘I disappeared when we saw people on the boat and then I simply decided that I should come together very slowly so that those boys wouldn’t be scared.’
Shane and I hooted with laughter so much that I thought Shane would choke as he rolled around on the grass.
‘Why is that funny?’ Mister Lewis muttered with a scowl.
‘Think about it, Mister Lewis,’ I said, wiping my eyes. ‘How would you feel if you were a kid and you saw boots and legs and skinny hands crawling out of a supermarket trolley?’
Mister Lewis’s frown went as he finally got the picture. ‘Oops,’ he quipped, ‘just as well I didn’t catch up with them, eh?’
T
here was a KEEP OUT sign hanging sideways on the half-open door of the mill. Inside, it was eerily dark in some places and, apart from pigeons giving the odd warble above our heads, it was silent. The sort of worrying silence like when the principal stomps into the classroom to find out who has drawn the mad, crossed eyes on her
photo in the entrance hall, and you’re so scared that you almost put your hand up, even though you didn’t do it.
‘Hmm,’ Mister Lewis mused as he looked around the dreary emptiness in the mill. ‘This place didn’t last long.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ he went on. ‘When I was a lad there was a dilapidated house right here in this field. Rumour was that it was haunted, so nobody came here – people were more superstitious back in those days. Then, shortly before my unfortunate demise, work began on building a mill, using the stones from the knocked house. I didn’t get to see it, of course,’ he sighed and then paused. ‘But the good part is that I got to have the best friends ever,’ he said, grinning with his yellow teeth.
‘Who were they?’ began Shane.
‘Us!’ I said. ‘Me and you, Shane.’
‘Oh yeah,’ he laughed.
Mister Lewis looked around at the patchy walls and the dirty floor. ‘I think I should like to live upstairs,’ he said. Which meant me and Shane puffing and panting as we pushed and pulled the trolley up the winding, rickety stairs.
When we reached the first landing, there was a loud cackle of hideous screeching. I ducked under the trolley and Shane curled up on the step, his hands over his head and his big bum in the air.
‘It’s all right,’ Mister Lewis laughed. ‘It’s just a couple of crows.’
Sure enough, when I looked up through the skeletal rafters and some missing slates, I saw two screeching crows flapping about like plastic bags in the wind. ‘I knew that,’ I fibbed. ‘I was just checking the wheels of the trolley.’
‘Of course you were, Milo,’ winked Mister Lewis.
‘They look like witches,’ put in Shane, still gaping upwards.
‘You have too much imagination, Shane,’ I muttered. ‘They’re just croaky old crows.’
When we finally got to the top of the stairs, we discovered two doors – but they were locked.
‘There’s probably just old machinery stuff in there, Mister Lewis,’ said Shane. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere for your old bones.’
But Mister Lewis was totally fed up by now. ‘It’s no use, boys,’ he sighed.
Then I noticed there was a third door around the corner, and this one was slightly open.
‘There’s an unlocked one here,’ I called out, and politely stood back to let Mister
Lewis go in first.
‘
Bawk
, bawk,
chicken,’ Shane muttered in my ear. ‘Scaredy cat …’
‘I was just being mannerly,’ I interrupted, hoping my ears wouldn’t light up with the fib. Like Dad says, you’ll always know a liar when the blood surges into his ears while he’s being questioned in court.
‘Ah, this will do nicely,’ Mister Lewis was saying as we followed him in.
There was a musty smell – just like my damp football gear when it’s left in the bag over the Easter holidays – but Mister Lewis said the smell didn’t matter because his nose wasn’t up to much anyway. Other than that, the floor was fairly clean and the windows were intact. There was even a small fireplace.
‘This is grand,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘It must have been the watchman’s place. See,’ he went on, his eyes shining with delight, ‘I’m
not going to be a derelict down-and-out spook looking longingly through windows or sheltering from the wind behind tombstones. I have a ROOM!’
We helped him to do a bit of cleaning and put his cushions on the floor. I placed his cat statue on the window ledge. After half an hour, the room seemed almost cosy.
‘Well,’ said Shane. ‘That was a good day’s work—’ He didn’t get any further because a loud, creepy droning sound prompted the two of us to back away towards the door, clinging to each other.
‘Ah!’ said Mister Lewis, waving his gloved hands and running to open the window. ‘It’s my bees! I told them where to come. Wait, boys, and say hello to my sweet beauties.’
But we were already halfway down the stairs. I mean, it was OK when they lived high up in the tower, but a cloud of stinging
bees buzzing all over a small room is a definite reason to run.
*
Later that night, just as I was sinking into a dream about screaming horses, giant bees and claustrophobic baths, there was a tap-tapping at my window. At first, I thought it was part of my weird nightmare, but when I saw Mister Lewis’s crooked hat and white face, I knew it was for real.
‘Mister Lewis,’ I said as I opened the window, ‘what are you—?’
‘Milo,’ he panted, clutching my arm, ‘it’s the mill – it’s haunted!’
