The Summer of Serendipity: The magical feel good perfect holiday read

by Ali McNamara

  Not long after that, we had scrambled our way up to the bedroom, ripping each other’s clothes off on the way.

  In fact, I think as I lie in bed gazing at Finn, most of mine are likely still at various points along the staircase.

  There’s some wriggling at the end of the bed, and Fergus pops his head up.

  ‘Do you want to go out?’ I whisper, as he pricks his ears up. ‘Come on then.’

  I slip on my unused pyjamas from last night, and my flip-flops, and Fergus and I head downstairs. I find the key that opens the door that leads out into the back garden, but as I’d suspected, I don’t need it, the door is already unlocked, so I let Fergus out to do his business.

  Fergus immediately heads towards the gap in the fence that leads towards the lake.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ I tell him. ‘Not after last time!’ But it’s too late; Fergus has squeezed through the gap and scampered off.

  ‘Wait!’ I call to the disappearing dog. ‘Fergus, stop!’

  I squeeze through after him and sprint along the path in the hope Fergus has stopped to sniff at something interesting and I can catch up with him. But I get further and further along the path and there’s no sign of him.

  ‘Fergus, you terror,’ I call, starting to get worried. Surely he wouldn’t be silly enough to swim out into the lake after what happened yesterday? ‘Fergus,’ I call a little louder. ‘Where are you?’

  Suddenly, an animal does appear. It’s not the scruffy brown dog I’m hoping to see, but a much bigger animal. It appears as if from nowhere, like its counterpart in Ballykiltara Park, but this time it’s not a brown stag I see in front of me, but a pure white one.

  We stand for a moment, staring at each other.

  I don’t know what the stag is thinking, all I know is I’m completely transfixed. It looks like a normal stag, powerful, with large antlers that stand majestically on the top of his head, but this stag is pure white – exactly as Jackie had described it to us on the boat. I look at the eyes staring back into mine; they’re dark, not red like an albino animal would have.

  ‘Were you watching me last night?’ I ask. I’m not sure what I expect the stag to do by means of a reply, but to my surprise it moves its head up and down.

  Oh wow, it understands me! I think joyously. Then a dragonfly buzzes past my ear and I realise the stag was simply shaking an insect from its nose.

  The stag turns its head and begins to move away.

  ‘Wait!’ I call. ‘Don’t go.’

  But the stag trots slowly away down the path. He pauses for a moment to look back at me.

  ‘You want me to follow you?’ I ask, feeling like I’m in a Lassie film, or an Enid Blyton book. The stag doesn’t reply; he merely continues on his way down the path towards the lake.

  So I follow him.

  When we get to the edge of the lake, the stag stops to take a drink. I watch from a short distance as he bows his head gracefully and laps from the cool water.

  I’m just thinking to myself how amazing this is to watch, when something even more astounding happens.

  In the sky above us a large black bird appears. As I look on, it descends towards the stag, flapping its wings to steer it in the right direction.

  I think for one moment the bird might actually be about to land on the stag’s antlers as I watch in total amazement this strange scene taking place in front of me. But it doesn’t, it simply drops right down in front of the stag’s face, and looks deep into its eyes.

  Oh my goodness . . . it’s a raven again, I realise now that the bird is near enough to see properly. Could it be the same one from the house?

  I watch the stag and the raven interact with each other for a few more seconds, and then the stag moves benignly away from its place on the edge of the lake, disappearing into the head-high undergrowth that lines both sides of the path.

  The raven now takes the stag’s place at the water’s edge; he too takes a drink before flapping his wings and soaring majestically up into the morning sky.

  I run down the path after him. This can’t be a coincidence, surely – to see a rare white stag and then a black raven virtually playing together? But as I reach the water’s edge all I see is the raven continuing to fly in a direct line towards Rafferty Island and the ruined abbey.

  I watch as he becomes a tiny black dot in the blue sky, and then disappears.

  I stand on the edge of the lake and think.

  Donal had said the raven was seen as a messenger in Celtic mythology; was this raven trying to send me a message again? Mad as it sounded, I couldn’t deny the raven had helped me to find the cellar last time he was close by, and Finn had said the other day there was a black bird that could have been the raven in the house, stubbornly refusing to leave.

  This has to be some sort of message, it has to, it’s all too weird otherwise. I mean, what are the chances of seeing a white stag, let alone one frolicking with a raven!

  I try to recall what Jackie had said about seeing a white stag; I know it had some special significance. He’d said when he saw one he’d been up to no good, poaching. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong here on the edge of the lake looking for Fergus . . .

  Fergus, I’d forgotten about him!

  I look to my left along the edge of the lake, and then to my right, and my heart leaps as I see him sniffing at the edge of the water about twenty metres away.

  ‘Fergus!’ I call. ‘Fergus, come back here!’

  Fergus looks up and sees me, and to my relief comes splashing back along the water’s edge.

  ‘Fergus, where have you been?’ I ask, ruffling his head. ‘You mustn’t keep running off like this, it’s dangerous. The stag and raven won’t rescue you if you get into trouble – you’re trespassing on their territory!’

  I’m joking when I tell Fergus that, but something I say resonates with me.

  Wait . . . trespassing. Now I remember what Jackie said: the Celts believed if you saw a white stag you were transgressing, breaking some taboo. It brought a message from the otherworld . . . but what am I transgressing against and what message can be so important that both a white stag and a raven appear at once?’

  I look out to where the raven had flown, out across to the island, and suddenly it hits me.

  ‘Fergus! I have it! Come on, we need to get back to Finn. I might be transgressing, but I believe I’m supposed to do it!’

  Thirty-Nine

  ‘OK, tell me again why I’m rowing you across this lake?’ Finn asks as we set off with Fergus in a little rowing boat that we’d discovered hidden in the back garden in a wooden shed under a lot of other junk. ‘I wish we’d known this was here yesterday,’ Finn had said as we’d dragged it down to the lake.

  ‘Because I need to return to the abbey,’ I tell him, my eyes constantly trained on the island in the distance. ‘I think it might hold the key to all this.’

  ‘Yes, I get that; you told me loudly enough when you woke me up this morning. But why you think that – that’s the part I’m not too sure about.’

  When Fergus and I had got back to the house this morning, we’d lost no time in waking Finn and telling him what had happened. Finn had listened in his usual calm way, and then insisted that we eat breakfast and get dressed before we did anything too hasty.

  I tell Finn in more detail now about the white stag and the raven. I’d felt embarrassed to tell him earlier – it all sounded a bit bizarre, even to me, and I’d seen it with my own eyes.

  ‘I’ve heard there’s white deer around here,’ Finn says when I’ve finished telling him exactly what took place. ‘But I’ve never seen one myself. It’s the sort of thing that’s only talked about in hushed tones by those in the know. You’ll need to keep it quiet, Ren. White deer, especially stags, are worth a fortune to hunters. People will pay a good price to have a white stag’s head mounted on their walls.’

  ‘Eww,’ I say, wrinkling up my nose. ‘Jackie warned us of that too. It’s horrible. I don’t understand why anyone
would ever think that looks good. No animal can ever be as beautiful or as majestic as it is when it’s living and breathing.’

  ‘I totally agree. Do you think it was the stag that you saw last night when we were in the woods? That’s why I was concerned about the horses taking fright. All the previous sightings I’ve heard about have taken place around the hidden lake, not on this one.’

  ‘I think it might have been. So you believe me then, about the stag and the raven?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Finn says, looking behind him to check we’re heading in the right direction. ‘This is Ireland, Ren; there’s more strange tales told over pints of Guinness in this country than anywhere else in the world. And I’m not sure what it is about you, but since you’ve been here in Ballykiltara you’ve managed to find yourself in the middle of most of them.’

  I smile. ‘You’re not far wrong there.’

  I stroke Fergus as we make our way further across the lake. Finn’s strong arms flexing underneath his tight T-shirt is almost as pleasant a sight as the misty view across the lake towards the island, and I find my eyes torn between the two magnificent spectacles.

  Once we reach the island, Finn steers the boat towards the wooden jetty as expertly as Jackie had done on my previous visit. Fergus leaps on to dry land while I clamber out and pull the boat in a bit tighter with the rope. Finn then helps me to attach the rope to the jetty.

  ‘Right,’ Finn says, looking around. ‘Now we’re here, what are we looking for?’

  I lead him up towards the ruined abbey with Fergus bounding out in front of us.

  ‘We’re looking for these.’ I show him the photo of the stone crosses from the cellar on my phone. ‘There’s quite a few of them dotted around in the abbey, I saw them last time I was here with Kiki.’

  ‘What about that one?’ Finn says, pointing to the large cross that stands in the chapel next to the abbey, where Kiki and I had made our wishes. ‘Is that the kind of thing you mean?’

  ‘Yes . . . a bit like that, only I think the ones we’re looking for will be carved into the stone. However,’ I say as I stare at the cross, ‘perhaps we should look at this one first.’

  I hurry across to the stone and begin examining the designs carved all over it. ‘Look at this pattern engraved on the ring and stem of the stonework,’ I call, running my hands over it. ‘I wonder if it means something?’

  The pattern looks similar to many of the other designs I’ve been looking at over the last couple of days in the books Donal and Father Duffy left me – intricate scrollwork, occasional human figures and rudimentary animals all worked into the design. But although a lot of the patterns had been pretty, they had meant little to me, whereas this one seems familiar.

  ‘Look at these people,’ I say to Finn as he catches up with me. ‘Do they look like monks to you?’

  Finn inspects the stonework. ‘Well, they have hoods.’

  ‘But one of them is holding a cross too. Look, follow the pattern around the circle . . . the figures are joined by more hooded figures, and then comes this wavy pattern that looks like water, then it goes back to figures, but fewer of them than before. Then there’s a sort of building, before the whole thing starts again. There’s also this –’ I point to an engraving of a bird. ‘It looks like a raven.’

  Finn pulls a face. ‘It might be, I suppose.’

  ‘And this –’ I point to a horned animal. ‘It could be a stag?’

  ‘Yeah . . . ’ Finn sounds unconvinced. ‘It could well be. But even if they are what you say, what does it all mean?’

  I spin excitedly to face him. ‘It means, Finn, that the answer to the mystery of The Welcome House could be very close by indeed!’

  After I’ve taken photos of the patterns on the cross, we spend the next hour or so on the island, looking for something that might lead us towards a solution to this mystery.

  ‘Ren, we’ve looked everywhere now,’ Finn says patiently. ‘There’s nothing either here in the ruins of this abbey, or anywhere else on this tiny island.’

  ‘There has to be,’ I say, looking at the photo I’ve taken of the engravings on the stone cross. ‘I just know there is.’

  ‘Look I know you’re determined to get to the bottom of all this, but I need to get back. I’ve told Donal I’ll be a bit late in this morning, but it will be afternoon before I get to the hotel at this rate.’

  ‘Yes, I know, and I really appreciate you helping me with this, Finn.’ I take another look around me. ‘I know you’re hiding something!’ I call to the island. ‘If only you’d help me find what it is!’

  I turn to Finn. He’s looking all around him too, and he seems worried.

  ‘Have you seen Fergus?’ he asks.

  ‘Not for a while. The last time I saw him, we were in the abbey.’

  ‘Me too. Fergus!’ Finn calls, walking back towards the abbey ruins. ‘Fergus, come on boy!’ He lets out a shrill whistle, and then stands still in case he can hear his dog.

  ‘What is it with your dog and running away?’ I ask, hurrying along next to him.

  ‘He’s independent,’ Finn says, scanning the island for a sign of Fergus as we walk.

  ‘That’s one word for it.’

  We reach the ruined abbey and Finn immediately clambers inside and calls for Fergus once more. I hesitate in the ruined archway, in case he wanders by outside.

  It’s then that I see it – the raven. He swoops in low above my head so I can’t miss him, and then he flies up high above the abbey, fluttering down so he can perch on one of the inner walls.

  ‘Finn! Over here,’ I call, rushing as fast as I can over the remains of low walls and through stone archways that would once have been entrances to the abbey’s many rooms. ‘Where the raven is perching.’

  I see Finn’s head turn and he hurries towards the bird, but I reach him first.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask the bird, who is gazing intently at me. ‘Have you got another message?’

  The raven turns his head, and jabs with his beak.

  ‘What’s it doing?’ Finn whispers, as he reaches my side.

  ‘I think it’s pointing to something.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Ren! How can it point, it’s a bird.’

  ‘Ravens are very intelligent – I looked them up after I found this one the first time.’ I watch the raven as it watches us, then it jabs with its beak again. ‘They’re supposed to be as clever as chimps and dolphins. Sometimes they even mimic human speech.’

  ‘Maybe it can tell us exactly where Fergus is then?’ Finn says in a sarcastic tone. ‘Where’s my dog, Mr Bird, eh? Where’s Fergus?’

  Not surprisingly the bird doesn’t answer; he merely flaps his wings and moves further along the wall. Then he lets out a low croaking sound.

  ‘You see?’ Finn says as I follow the bird along the wall. ‘No idea.’

  ‘What’s this?’ I ask, noticing a narrow gap in the wall directly below where the raven perches. ‘Look at these Celtic crosses either side of it, they’re just like the ones on the front of the books, and the ones I saw in the cellar at The Welcome House. Do you think it might be a passageway?’

  Finn comes over as I’m shining the light from my phone’s torch into the gap. ‘It looks a bit like one. Fergus!’ he calls into the gap. ‘Fergus, are you in there?’

  There’s a distant bark.

  ‘It’s him!’ Finn says, turning to me. ‘But how the hell are we going to fit into the gap? It’s dog size, but not human size.’

  ‘Fergus!’ I call into the narrow passageway, ‘Come back up here, good boy!’

  But the only response is another distant bark.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Finn asks, looking genuinely frightened. ‘He’s obviously trapped.’

  I turn off the torch on my phone and look at my photos instead.

  ‘Let me try something,’ I say, moving Finn to one side. I study my phone, and then I push hard on one of the crosses. Before Finn can say anything, I move to the second c
ross and do the same, but this time I push twice.

  Nothing happens.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Finn asks.

  ‘Trying something. OK, let’s do it this way.’ I repeat the action, but the opposite way round. To my delight, and Finn’s amazement, the opening to the tunnel widens slightly.

  ‘What the hell?’ Finn says, as I poke my head through the gap, and then manage to slide my body through one shoulder at a time. ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘I said there was some sort of code on the cross, and there is. That’s what I used to open the tunnel up. What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Finn has to push hard to make his broad body squeeze through the narrow gap. ‘Jeez, those monks must have been tiny to squeeze through here.’

  ‘That’s it!’ I squeal as Finn manages to get his whole body through the gap. ‘This is exactly what that pattern on the cross shows: a secret passageway that the monks must have used to get from the abbey to The Welcome House! Why didn’t I think of it before? This must be how they smuggled the travelling monks away from Ballykiltara so they could hide them at the abbey and allow them to complete their illuminated pages in secret.’

  ‘You’ve got all that from a tunnel?’ Even though Finn has made it through the gap he has to bend his head to fit inside the low passageway.

  ‘No, I got all that from the pattern on the cross – that’s what those engravings are all about. They tell the story of how the monks hid their elders. Look –’ I show him the phone. ‘There’s the water in between the two groups of monks, and that explains why there are less of them on the other side. It’s not because they’ve disappeared, but because they’ve been hidden away.’

  Finn looks at me, bewildered. ‘And this –’ I point to another of the engravings. ‘This little pattern told me the order to push those crosses in to make the opening of the tunnel wider. It all makes sense now.’

  ‘Does it?’ Finn peers down the tunnel. ‘Let’s find Fergus, shall we, and then I’ll tell you if it makes sense.’

  Finn lights up his own phone now and slowly we make our way along the dark and narrow stone tunnel, calling Fergus’s name as we go. Eventually we come across him cowering in a narrow alcove that cuts into the side of the main passageway.