The Shiver Stone

About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
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
Author's note
Acknowledgements
Copyright
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Sharon Tregenza was born and grew up in Cornwall and lived for many years in Cyprus and the United Arab Emirates. She moved back to the UK and ran holiday businesses that included a park full of run down lodges with a bat infestation and a fishing lake (until an otter ate all the fish). She is now settled in a village near Bath, where she happily creates mystery with a touch of magic.

Sharon Tregenza's debut children's novel won the Kelpies Prize, the Heart of Hawick Award and was long-listed for the Branford Boase. She has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Wales, Trinity St David and has recently completed a second MA in Writing for Young People at Bath Spa University.

www.sharontregenza.com

@SharonTregenza

Praise for The Shiver Stone:

An unusual and original novel which hooks you in from the start. Readers will enjoy this mysterious, lyrical adventure with a dark secret at its heart.

Steve Voake

A heart-in-the-mouth adventure story, presided over by the mysterious Shiver Stone, with ‘the gentle swoosh and crackle of the waves' as its soundtrack.

Sue Purkiss

Beautifully crafted, with a plot that perfectly balances family drama with mystery. The beaches of Pembrokeshire are a wonderful backdrop to adventure!

Elen Caldecott

The

Shiv
er Stone

Sharon Tregenza

For

Jean Yvette
Rosewall and

William Herbert Rosewall

Mum & Dad

CHAPTER

1

Tonight, whatever it took, I was going to catch the phantom sculptor. My dad would ground me for a million years if he knew what I was doing, but I was determined.

A full moon shone down on Carreg. It silvered the sea and, high up on the cliff, it turned the giant Shiver Stone as black as jet. I glanced up at the great megalith and made a wish. The same wish I'd been making to the Shiver Stone for over a year.

As I crept across the cool, damp sand, razor clams squirted salt water up at me from below the surface.

Finding a boulder to hide behind, I made myself as comfortable as I could. I checked my iPhone – just gone 1.00 am.

The first sculptures had appeared on the beach overnight – piles of rocks balanced on top of each other in patterns. People liked them and photographed them. We thought it was just kids mucking around. Then they got more interesting: slabs of rock with holes in, rocks made to look like people or animals; one was in the shape of a castle and another morning there was an awesome tower – must have taken ages.

The tourists loved them too. Almost every morning there were different ones. Some disappeared and some changed. It was the talk of the village – no one knew who was doing it. It was a real mystery.

It had been going on for weeks and I was determined to find out who was doing it. Even if it meant sneaking out on my own after midnight. I'd see who it was. I'd get the mystery sculptor on video.

Bubbles of sound floated down from the village – shouts and laughs. Holidaymakers were enjoying the very last of a warm summer night.

Here, on the beach, everything was quiet – just the gentle swoosh and crackle of the waves.

I waited.

Minutes later I heard the crunch of footsteps on pebbles. I ducked down behind my boulder. Dragging my hood up over my head, I curled into a ball to make myself as small as possible.

My heart beat louder and, for the first time, I wondered if this was such a good idea, being here alone on the beach in the early hours. Maybe the phantom sculptor didn't want to be discovered. Maybe he was some crazy, who…

Someone poked me in the ribs. I yelped with fright.

‘It's me. It's me. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.' Looking down on me and laughing was Linette, my dad's girlfriend.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘I followed you.'

I huffed. ‘How did you know where I'd be?'

‘I heard you telling Becca on the phone.'

‘You listened in on my private conversation?'

‘Yup. Here's a tip, Carys Thomas. If you don't want people to be suspicious – don't whisper.'

I gritted my teeth and glared at her.

She didn't look at all bothered. ‘I knew if I told you not to go you'd ignore me. Your dad's at sea so he's not here to stop you. I thought the best thing to do was keep you company.'

‘I don't want your company.'

Linette shrugged. ‘Tough.' She wriggled down beside me. ‘Squidge over.' Elbowing me into a crevice, she rummaged in a bag and brought out two Mars bars. ‘No need to starve while we wait, eh.' She offered me one.

I wanted to say no but… ‘Thanks,' I muttered. ‘If you're staying you'll have to keep quiet for a change.'

‘I can do quiet,' Linette said, rustling the Mars bar paper loud enough to frighten a lion.

The next hour consisted of Linette moaning about how cold she was, how uncomfortable she was and how stupid the whole idea was. I spent the time shushing her and telling her to shut up. The distant voices of late-night revellers grew fewer and fainter, and then stopped all together.

The sea whooshed onto the beach and slid back with a whisper. I felt drowsy and rested my head on my arm against the boulder. I must have nodded off, because next time I looked, a hooded shadow, hands in pockets, was creeping along the water's edge.

Linette was snoring softly beside me. I nudged her. ‘It's him,' I whispered. She woke with a start but, for once, was silent. She nodded.

My heart rate increased as the man stopped just a few metres in front of us.

Quickly, without hesitation, he began to build. He sorted large rounded pebbles, weighed them in his hands, smoothed them, and then accepted or discarded them. The stones ground and clacked as he built one on one on one.

I was so fascinated I almost forgot to video him. I slipped my iPhone from my pocket. I could hear Linette breathing heavily with excitement. She raised her eyebrows at me.

I wedged myself between two rocks with just enough space between them to get my phone in position. I pressed the video button.

Once he stepped back to take a look at what he'd created. He put his head on one side and pulled up his sleeves. He worked even faster, picking rocks it seemed at random. Before long we could see what he'd made.

It was beautiful. What began as a jumble of mismatched stones was now an almost perfect spire. About two metres high it cast a long black shadow in the moonlight. It looked – magical.

He turned in my direction, and almost as if he knew we were there, swiped back his hood. We had a clear view of the beard and the long blonde plaits of … the sculptor?

I mean,
the
sculptor. It was Tristan Penaluna, a local artist: a real sculptor. He was the one everyone thought of first when the strange stone creations began. But he'd denied it was him and so guesses grew more and more ridiculous as we tried to figure out who was building them.

I was disappointed. I mean it would have been more fun if the mystery person was Daisy at the gift shop or Dylan our postman. But, anyway, I had the evidence now and the mystery was solved.

Tristan left as silently and sneakily as he arrived.

As soon as he was out of earshot Linette blew her breath out between her lips. ‘Not much of a mystery there, then. I can see the headlines now: mystery sculptor turns out to be … a sculptor.'

She groaned, stretched, and kneeded the small of her back. ‘Enough of this silliness. I'm for my bed.'

Back in my bedroom I rubbed my eyes and peered out of my window across the bay and up to the Shiver Stone. Dawn lightened the sky in streaks and the first gull squawked. I knew that Dad, out fishing on his beloved
Sea Spirit
, would be able to see the Shiver Stone too.

I thought about my night's adventure. It was a bit of a let down. I was so tired I didn't bother to get out of my clothes. I kicked off my shoes, yawned, and flopped onto my duvet. But, just before drifting off to sleep, I had an idea.

‘Television?' Linette said the next morning. ‘I don't know about that. It's only a little bitty film you took on your phone. Orange or apple juice?'

‘Neither. It's a good little bitty film though. Look at it on my laptop.'

It was good. The bright moonlight helped and you could clearly see the hooded figure building the spire. Then, at the end, Tristan looked right into the camera and there was a full shot of his face.

‘Hmm, not bad,' Linette said. ‘I do have a cousin who works for Radio Pembrokeshire; they might be interested. Could give her a ring I s'pose.'

Dad thought it was a good video too. Luckily for me, Linette decided to leave out the bit about me being on the beach on my own until she got there.

That's how it started. My fifteen minutes of fame. Interviewed on Radio Pembrokeshire first and then the local papers picked up the story. And then, three days later, the phone call from BBC Wales.

I rang my best friend. ‘I'm going to be on telly now, Becca, pretty cool huh?'

‘That's nothing,' she said. ‘My uncle Bryce has been on telly loads of times cause he's on the Tenby lifeboat crew.'

I think Becca was jealous.

The telly thing was great, but Linette had to be there too, which was annoying. You'd think the whole thing was her idea – she didn't stop talking. I hardly got a word in. They did show my phone video though.

We didn't know then how it was going to change the lives of several people. Forever.