by Paul Bristow
Contents
Prologue...
Chapter 1. Up and Down
Chapter 2. Here and There
Chapter 3. Time and Place
Chapter 4. Lost and Found
Chapter 5. Dark and Dank
Chapter 6. Muck and Brass
Chapter 7. Law and Order
Chapter 8. Sound and Fury
Chapter 9. Code and Theory
Chapter 10. Bricks and Mortar
Chapter 11. Smash and Grab
Chapter 12. Ways and Means
Chapter 13. Art and Craft
Chapter 14. Paper and Pens
Chapter 15. Fact and Fiction
Chapter 16. Doctors and Nurses
Chapter 17. Names and Faces
Chapter 18. Old and New
Chapter 19. Dots and Dashes
Chapter 20. Chips and Sauce
Chapter 21. Trails and Tracks
Chapter 22. Time and Again
Chapter 23. Heart and Soul
Chapter 24. Rivers and Monsters
Chapter 25. Hide and Seek
Chapter 26. Springs and Magnets
Chapter 27. Gods and Monsters
Chapter 28. Now and Then
Chapter 29. Waves and Tides
Chapter 30. Skin and Bones
Chapter 31. Bells and Whistles
Chapter 32. Toys and Games
Chapter 33. Breaking and Entering
Chapter 34. Furs and Feathers
Chapter 35. Two and Three
Chapter 36. Heroes and Villains
Chapter 37. Tooth and Claw
Chapter 38. Sugar and Spice
Chapter 39. Look and Learn
Chapter 40. Bumps and Bruises
Chapter 41. Friends and Foes
Chapter 42. Heads and Tails
Chapter 43. Toil and Trouble
Chapter 44. High and Dry
Chapter 45. Sink and Swim
Chapter 46. Hello and Cheerio
Chapter 47. Beginnings and Endings
For Sharon with love
With me every step of the way
Even on the shoogly steps
Prologue...
Chapter 1.
Up and Down
There was something strange about the way Megan’s gran had exploded. The strangeness wasn’t that she was on holiday at the time; it wasn’t that it was particularly unlucky because she had won the holiday in a competition; it wasn’t even that she was water-skiing when it happened. No. It was that before exploding on faulty water-skis on her unexpected holiday, she had not phoned Megan when she said she would. Gran always phoned. Always.
Megan’s mum suggested that it was ‘maybe because of all the sangria’, but still, it didn’t feel right. None of it felt right. Everyone made a sad, understanding face when Megan said this, so she decided to stop talking about it.
Now, weeks later, she sat on her bed, holding a letter her gran had left for her. Megan brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and stared at the envelope some more, not quite ready to open it yet.
The week that followed the explosion had been very strange. Exploding on holiday is clearly quite an inconvenient thing to do; serious black-suited people kept turning up at the house with forms for Mum and Dad to fill in. Newspapers and a television crew wanted to speak to them as well, because it was such a ‘tragic’ and ‘unusual’ story. Megan was pretty sure her gran would have been delighted to be tragic and unusual.
Lots of people were big fans of Megan’s gran’s books, and sent emails, cards or flowers to say how sad they were at her death. Some even sent little cuddly knitted toys of her monsters. Mum really didn’t know what to do with those; even though they were woollen, a few of them were still pretty terrifying. Gorskyn had always been Megan’s favourite, so she took one to keep in her room. Its little tentacles had tassels on the end.
She had not been allowed to go to the funeral, because Dad said it would be too sad, which Megan sort of thought was the point. Even clown funerals must be sad. There were no understanding faces when she said this, though. She was certain Mum quietly phoned the doctor.
Instead, while everyone else went up to the hillside cemetery, Megan’s great-aunt Gerty had taken her to a café in Gourock. The only good thing about this was that Megan had been allowed to take her best friend, Cameron, along too. Cam was slightly more interested in the selection of ice cream than in comforting Megan, but Megan was relieved to have something normal to do. It hadn’t felt like a proper goodbye, especially because her aunt had refused to talk about Gran.
“Best not,” she had said. “Your granny Sarah was a lovely lady, but a strange one. All that sad business when she was wee.”
***
Megan stared at the envelope in her hand. It was from the stationery set she had made Gran for Christmas last year. It had taken ages, but she had made everything by hand, from the paper to the little wooden box it all came in. The letter smelled of Gran’s perfume. The last time she’d smelled that perfume was on their pre-holiday walk round the dam, feeding the swans. Gran had said something Megan couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Do you remember when I used to read you The Ugly Duckling?” asked Gran.
Megan nodded, hoping this wasn’t her gran’s attempt to start talking about growing up. “You always did a funny duck voice,” she said.
“Well… it’s a load of rubbish. People spend years waiting to be beautiful swans. What a waste of time. Just be a beautiful duck and get on with it.” Gran had turned and grinned at Megan, but her grin had faded into a look Megan didn’t recognise, before she quickly changed the subject. “Come on, you can help me pack – don’t let me forget my Nintendo.”
Megan had wanted to tell Gran her secret that day. She knew she would understand, know what to do.
It was too late to tell her now. All too late. All she had was the letter.
No one else was allowed to open or read it: “Your gran made it very clear that we must advise you to open the letter alone,” the lawyer had said when she handed it over.
Now her parents were in bed and it was pitch-black outside, Megan knew it was time. She pulled at the envelope, carefully, as if it were full of diamonds and gunpowder. Inside was a very small piece of paper, some of the vellum parchment Megan had made by flattening out wood pulp.
There can’t be much written on that, thought Megan, a little disappointed.
There were two other items in the envelope: a piece of old newspaper and one of those fold-out street maps of the town. For now, though, Megan was only interested in her letter. Sure enough, it was very short, but the first line said almost everything Megan hoped it would.
Dear Megan, I know why you can fly.
Chapter 2.
Here and There
It was true. Megan could fly. Properly fly. Out of windows and up through clouds. It had started happening a few months ago – she had woken up with her nose squashed almost flat against her ceiling.
At first she thought there must have been an earthquake – there had been a few tremors earlier in the year – but then she realised everything else was still where it was supposed to be. Only she had moved. Megan spent a few moments not falling, and gently moving about by pushing her hands across the ceiling. Then she pushed away and floated, horizontal and happy in the middle of her room.
The best bit, the strangest bit, was how flying had been so easy to work out, how quickly she became good at it, like it was something she had always known how to do – not at all like riding a bike. When Megan was learning how to cycle, she had dented three cars, knocked over a shed and broken a leg. It wasn’t even her own leg.
Megan continued reading her gran’s beautiful old-fashioned handwriting:
I really want to be able to explain it all to you, but if you are reading this, it’s because they finally caught up with me. I can’t risk writing it all down. But Megan, I need you to find out for yourself. Follow the map. Then you’ll know what you have to do.
All my love sweetheart. Fly safe.
Next, Megan carefully unfolded the map, laying it out on her bed. Greenock, Port Glasgow and Gourock and Surrounding Environs 1953 Ordnance Survey. Megan stared at the map, at street names and places she did not recognise, avenues and parkland from long ago. There were five numbered circles on the map. None of them in places she knew.
Number one was a hillside in Port Glasgow; number two down by the docks in Greenock. The circle for number three was marked beside what looked like a hospital, but it wasn’t where the hospital was now. Four was a cemetery with the date 1786 scrawled above it in Gran’s messy handwriting, and five was at the massive old sugar warehouses where they were building a new marina.
This was exactly the sort of thing her gran would do. She used to make treasure hunts for Megan all the time. Most grans just dished out sweeties; Megan’s gran would write her strange rhyming clues and have her searching all over the house. The sweets always tasted better when she found them herself.
The best hunt was in the summer holidays a few years ago, when she had Megan searching all around the garden for clues. Each clue led to a trickier one, sending her through the bushes and behind the sunflowers, past where the goldfish were buried, until finally, under the garden shed she’d found the prize: a kite. Megan’s gran had made it herself from green and purple silks and some old bamboo cane. It was beautiful. They went up into the hills behind the town for a picnic and flew the kite all afternoon.
I wonder what she’s hidden this time.
The letter and the map made some sort of sense to Megan, but the newspaper page was a complete mystery. There was a story about a weird fish washing up from the river, an advert for Golden Syrup, and a photo of a scary-looking old building. She folded it back up and put it with the letter in her China-print keepsake box under her bedside cabinet. The map she put in her schoolbag.
Excited, she did her best to fall asleep, because unfortunately, none of those mysterious things were going to stop her having to go back to school tomorrow.
Chapter 3.
Time and Place
A pale thin man in a suit stood at the front of the class beside Miss McCue. He was completely bald, in that really shiny way, and the fact that you could see his whole head meant you could see how bumpy it was.
“Maybe he’s got a really big brain or something,” said Cam, not even all that quietly.
Cameron and Megan sat together in most classes and had done since Primary 1. Even then he was the tallest in class. He pretended he wasn’t, though, always hunching up or curling in on himself, like some massive spindly legged spider constantly trying to hide under the nearest rock. Except there were no rocks big enough. Sometimes, when he said rude things far too loudly in class, Megan really wished there were.
“Right first year!” Miss McCue looked at Cam very briefly before beaming her award-winning smile across the class. “Today we have a real treat for you. Mr Finn is here from Waterworx, the people who are regenerating the old parts of town and building all the modern sculptures you’ve been looking at in art class. We’ve been given the opportunity to help design the next one! Isn’t that great?”
Cam had his hand up, always a danger when a visitor came.
“Yes Cameron,” said Miss McCue, looking like she was trying to send him a telepathic message along the lines of, Please remember how upset that fireman got last time.
“Are they going to pay us?” asked Cameron.
Miss McCue did her best charming laugh. “No Cam, we’re helping design a sculpture because we’ll all learn something and it will be good fun.”
Cameron had his hand up again, even though Megan had just elbowed him.
“Yes Cameron,” said Miss McCue through gritted teeth.
“It says in the paper Waterworx have millions and millions of pounds.”
Miss McCue smiled nervously at Mr Finn, who thankfully seemed to be taking it all in his stride.
“That’s actually true, Cameron,” said Mr Finn, “but most of it is to spend on regenerating the town to make it better for everyone. I tell you what, though, I’ll do you all a deal. You want to make a deal?”
The class perked up a bit, now there was a potential opportunity for free stuff.
“This is an old building you have here. Your head teacher was telling me you have a very leaky roof… is that right?”
Stacey’s hand went up this time.
“Yes?” said Mr Finn.
“There was a big bulge in the ceiling in French class and it burst and all this water poured out onto Steven Barclay and there were drowned pigeons in it.”
Everyone laughed.
“Dear me. Well, if you help us with a new sculpture, we’ll make sure your leaky roof is no longer a problem. How does that sound?”
The class was unimpressed.
“And, of course, the person with the winning design will get a new Playstation,” Mr Finn added quickly.
Result.
“Ok everyone,” said Miss McCue quickly. “Mr Finn is going to take us to see one of the new sculptures being built at the shipyard in Port Glasgow. Yes Cameron?”
“How much can our sculpture cost? Can ours be made out of platinum?”
“No,” said Miss McCue.
***
Megan and Cam sat in the middle of the bus, far enough away from the snogging at the back, but not near enough the front to be involved in rehearsing songs from the school show. It was the first time they had properly talked since the day of the funeral.
“Gran left me a letter.”
“That’s nice. My gran left us lots of out-of-date cat food and an old handbag full of raffle tickets.”
“It had a map with it.”
“I did get fifty quid, though, so I bought a new game,” said Cam, drifting off.
“Cam, are you even listening?”
“A map. Your gran gave you a map.”
“Yes. A map of round here. It’s marked with numbers. I think she wanted me to find something.”
“What? Treasure?” Cam laughed.
“I don’t think so. This is something else, just for me.”
“Right.”
“And I want you to help me find it.”
Megan saw a smile flicker briefly across Cameron’s face. Right now, she wasn’t totally sure how to get Cam to help her find the secret of why she could fly without actually telling him that she could fly. But she knew she could trust him and that she needed his help.
“Let’s see it then,” said Cameron.
Megan took the map out of her bag and unfolded it. “There are five places she’s picked out. Number one is in Port Glasgow.” Megan pointed to the tiny red circle. “I think I’m supposed to go to each place in order. That’s the way her treasure hunts used to work.”
Cam traced his long fingers across the streets. “This is a really old map. Some of these places aren’t there any more.”
“But I bet you still know where to find them?”
“Maybe. I’m pretty sure that one is the old hospital, and that’s the tobacco warehouses, which have been empty for years.”
Megan smiled. “See. I knew you’d be able to do it. What’s this one?”
“Behind the new flats in the ropeworks? It’s just a supermarket I think. Wait…” Cam took out his phone. “Map app, I’m gonna save them all as locations,” he explained and started tapping and swiping as the coach they were on pulled up outside the shipyard. Cam ignored everyone else undoing their seatbelts and filing off the coach as he stared from the map to his phone and back again. “The first one is really close! An old bomb shelter apparently.”
Megan grinned.
“No,” said Cam, “absolutely not. We’re here to appreciat
e some rubbish art. I was grounded for a month after we got caught skidging last time.”
“But how good were those monster trucks?”
“Cameron! Megan! We haven’t got all day!” Miss McCue called from outside.
Chapter 4.
Lost and Found
Mr Finn led them into a big warehouse. There were bits of scaffolding and old boats in the far corner, and random traffic cones were scattered around, presumably warning about some unseen health-and-safety issue. In the centre of the warehouse was an enormous metal egg. Mr Finn was pointing at it, looking very proud.
“This sculpture is called Phoenix Egg. It’s going in the new town square beside our offices. Can anyone guess why we’ve chosen the name Phoenix Egg?”
“Do you really like eggs?” asked Scott Malcolm.
“I do really like eggs,” said Mr Finn, “but that’s not the reason.”
“Could you just not think of anything better?” asked Cam.
Mr Finn was a very quick learner, so he was already ignoring Cam. “The sculpture represents rebirth and the future of the town,” he said, “because a Phoenix rises from the ashes to live again.” He paused dramatically, as if he was waiting for a round of applause.
“Our town hasn’t been burnt to ashes though,” said Megan.
“No,” smiled Mr Finn. “Of course it hasn’t. Shall we take a closer look at the sculpture?”
Cam took out his phone.
“Sorry,” said Mr Finn, “no photos yet. We don’t want to spoil the surprise for everyone.”
“It’s for my collection,” said Cam. “I took photos of the other ones.”
“Really?” said Mr Finn, unsure whether Cam was being truthful or rude – or both. “Which is your favourite?”
“I like the round one near the old dam,” said Cam.
“Evolve,” said Mr Finn, making it sound more like an instruction than a name. “What do you like about that one?”
Miss McCue had zeroed in on their conversation and was now hovering nearby waiting to calm things down when Cam said something cheeky. It would only be a matter of time.