Daisy Malone and the Blue Glowing Stone

by James O'Loghlin

  They walked along a pathway. On either side were three- or four-storey buildings, some old and made of stone, some new and made of metal, and some middle-aged and made of either stoneish metal or metallic stone.

  The department of archaeology shared an older- looking building with the department of history, the department of pre-history, the department of pre-pre-history and the department of stuff-that-happened-even-before-pre-pre-history. And the mathematics department.

  Daisy and Ben stopped at the front of the building. ‘Sorry,’ said Daisy.

  ‘I know. I can’t come in. That’s fine.’ Ben sighed. ‘I’ll just go and stare into the distance in my dog-like way. Won’t get bored. Could do it for hours.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Whatevs. I hope he can help.’

  Daisy had been here several times with her mum. Inside was a large, unattractive foyer. It had blue tiles on the floor which made it look a bit like a giant bathroom. Daisy almost expected there to be a toilet in the corner with a towel rack next to it. On the far wall was a noticeboard with a list of all the occupants. It stated that ‘Associate Professor Jackie Malone’ was in room 312 (but Daisy knew that she actually wasn’t), and that ‘Professor Trevor Blont, Head of Archaeology’ was in room 316.

  Daisy had had enough of walking so she took the lift. As the doors closed an electronic voice said, ‘Doors closing.’

  ‘Derrrr!’ thought Daisy. ‘What else would they be doing? Star jumps?’

  At the third floor she emerged into a corridor she knew well. She turned left to her mum’s office and tried the wooden door. Locked, of course. A stab of worry hit her. Why hadn’t Mum been in contact?

  She moved further along the corridor to room 316. The door was open, so Daisy walked in. The room contained a window, a large brown desk, a brown carpeted floor and about eight million billion books. Not a glimpse of wall was visible, just books on shelves from floor to ceiling. They overflowed onto piles on the floor and even the windowsill. The desk was covered with papers, a computer and more books, and sitting behind it she could see the top half of an overweight man. The man had thinning blond hair draped messily across his head, chubby cheeks, a short broad nose, bright twinkly eyes surrounded by round glasses and a mouth that was stretching as wide as it could, due to the fact that the man was trying to stuff a cream bun into it.

  Chapter 9

  CREAM BUNS

  ‘Thank goodness! A person!’ said the man in between chews of his bun, and in a much higher-pitched voice than Daisy had expected. He put down the book he had been looking at. ‘I beg you, please come in. I’m sooo bored that I was about to try to eat my book and read my cream bun, just to mix things up a bit. And who are y– Wait. Why, it’s Daisy, isn’t it?’

  Daisy nodded.

  The man pulled himself to his feet, proving that he did have a bottom half, and peered closely at her.

  ‘I’m Trevor Blont. You wouldn’t remember me, of course. For two reasons. One, the last time I met you, you were about the size of this cream bum, and second, years of experience have taught me that for some reason I’m not very memorable. But I recognise you, because your mother keeps a photo of you on her desk. Although you’re a lot bigger.’

  ‘Well, it was probably taken a year or two ago.’

  ‘No, I meant you’re a lot bigger than the photo. The photo’s quite small, about the size of a birthday card. Not that I ever get many of them.’ He frowned. ‘But why are you here? Your mother isn’t here. You know that, don’t you?’

  Daisy nodded again. ‘I came to see you.’

  ‘Me? Goodness, how exciting! Well you’d better sit down and tell me.’ He gestured to the plain wooden chair on Daisy’s side of the desk. Daisy sat and couldn’t stop herself from casting a loving glance at Blont’s cream bun. Blont, seeing the look, grabbed the cream bun and tore it energetically in two. ‘Hah!’ he said triumphantly. ‘Lucky it wasn’t a rabbit, or there’d be blood everywhere!’ He handed half to Daisy. ‘Feel free to speak with your mouth full and spit bits of bun on me.’

  Daisy took a huge bite of bun, stuffing her face so full she could hardly move her teeth, tongue or jaws. You know that feeling you get when you’ve spent the day stealing hotel keys, setting off fire alarms, sneaking into hotel rooms, stealing glowing stones, running away from bad guys and sitting round the wrong side of the school so that your talking dog can’t find you, and then you finally get to stuff the most delicious cream bun in the world in your mouth? You don’t? Well, it feels good. The icing had coconut flakes on top and was stickily, scrumptiously pink, while the bun itself was perfectly, meltingly soft and contained just the right number of raisins so that the flavours of bun, raisin and icing melted together in Daisy’s mouth so deliciously that she didn’t even mind that raisins were fruit. She kept stuffing it into her mouth and before she knew it, the bun was gone.

  That made Daisy feel sad. She missed the bun. But then Blont said the most perfect thing ever in the history of the known universe. He said, ‘Would you like another bun? And perhaps a hot chocolate?’

  ‘Yes, please!’ said Daisy. She had a very good feeling about Professor Trevor Blont.

  ‘I don’t make hot chocolates very well, but I’ll do my best.’ He heaved himself to his feet and as he exited the room, Daisy noticed that he walked with a heavy limp and supported himself on a wooden cane.

  As she waited Daisy started to worry again about her mother again. Why hadn’t she called? She always called on Daisy’s birthday. Had Sinclair and Dennis done something to her? But she was up at Gloomy Gulch and they were down here. And what about the stone? She fingered the bag containing it in her pocket. What the heck was it? And why was Sinclair so desperate to get it? She stared at the bookshelves as if they might hold the answer. They didn’t though. They held books. Obviously. Including one called The Complete History of Potatoes which had once gained third prize in a ‘Most Boring Book In The World’ competition.

  (In case you’re interested [and even if you’re not] second prize had gone to The Innermost Thoughts of Jellyfish [to understand why this book is so boring, you probably need to know that jellyfish don’t have brains], while the winner of the ‘Most Boring Book In The World’ competition had been The Complete History of Potatoes, Volume 2 because all the most interesting stuff about potatoes [which was still very boring] was in Volume 1.)

  Daisy stood up and wandered aimlessly around the room. She glanced at the mess covering Blont’s desk. There was a book called The Joy of Digging, and another entitled Archaeology’s Great Mysteries. Next to it was an electricity bill and several pieces of paper, including one with ‘Semester 1 Lecture Roster’ typed on it, and another with ‘Places to Look’ handwritten at the top.

  Professor Blont soon returned carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate loaded with not two, not four, but six more cream buns! He placed his cane against the side of his desk, unloaded the tray then carefully lowered himself into his chair.

  Daisy sipped the hot chocolate. It was sweet and very chocolatey. Much better than that watered down silliness her dad made. ‘Yum. It’s delicious!’ she said.

  ‘You’re very kind. Another bun?’

  Daisy nodded, then after a few more sips thought she had better get down to business. ‘It’s about my mum. She … well, I can’t get in touch with her and she sent me a letter and she said I should talk to you.’

  ‘To me? Goodness. Whatever was she thinking? Well, you’d better tell me, then.’

  Daisy hadn’t really had time to think about what bits she should tell Professor Blont and what bits she shouldn’t, so she just told him everything from the moment she saw Sinclair in the forest with Paul, to the theft of the stone from their house, to their own theft of the stone from Sinclair’s hotel. The only thing she left out was the bit about Ben being able to talk.

  Blont listened intently, feeding bits o
f bun into his mouth. When the first bun was gone he reached for a second, and when the second was gone he had a third.

  When Daisy had finished she handed over the letter that Jackie Malone had written to Professor Blont. He read it with a furrowed brow, looking like he was concentrating fiercely, because he was. When he’d finished he sat still for a few moments, then took a deep breath and focused on Daisy.

  ‘Well, well, how extraordinary. And Daisy, what an amazing girl you are,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t have done half the things you did. You must be exhausted.’

  ‘I am a bit.’

  ‘I am a bit too, and all I’ve done is sit here, listening to you, read a letter and scoff buns. I think you have done splendidly.’

  The compliment tasted nearly as nice to Daisy as the cream buns.

  ‘You said you haven’t been able to get in touch with your mother. What about your father? Have you told him anything?’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘No. It’s … well, it’s just that he isn’t very good with things like this.’

  ‘Yes, yes I quite understand, I know a bit about your poor father.’ Blont stroked his chin and then chewed a fingernail. ‘Well, I think the question we have to ask ourselves is obvious. What now?’

  ‘Eat another cream bun?’ suggested Daisy hopefully.

  Blont clapped his hands together and chuckled. ‘Excellent advice, my dear.’ He opened his drawer and another cream bun appeared, which he again ripped in two.

  Blont took a big bite, his twenty-second since Daisy had arrived, and then spoke. ‘So your mother found this stone underground, and those men seem to desperately want it. What does it mean?’

  ‘Did Mum tell you anything about this stone? I mean, you’re her boss, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. And no. I mean no and yes. Yes to boss – we call it “supervisor” now … or is it “manager”? Or “director”? I never pay much attention to those emails. And no, she didn’t tell me anything about the stone.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of a glowing blue stone before?’

  ‘I have. When one is uncovering the past one hears or reads stories about all sorts of things. Ghosts, objects that have mystical powers, flying bananas. But I pay no attention to them. None of it is ever true.’ He hesitated. ‘I mean, it can’t be, can it?’

  Daisy wasn’t sure if he had meant the last sentence as a statement or a question.

  ‘So have you heard anything about this stone?’ she pressed.

  ‘We have come across some references to an object that sounds similar to it,’ Blont said cautiously. ‘In old letters and other documents that we have discovered in and around Gloomy Gulch. But as I say, I am sure they are nothing. You see –’

  ‘What do they say?’ interrupted Daisy.

  ‘Well, some of the references suggest that a person who has possession of the stone would have … well … er …’

  ‘Yes,’ prompted Daisy.

  Blont swallowed. ‘Well, that they would be able to perform feats of great strength, that they would be able to heal the sick, and that they would even have the power to …’ Blont licked his lips nervously, ‘… make other people do whatever they wanted. But how could that be true? It’s ridiculous, surely. It must be a myth.’

  Daisy put her hand in her pocket and felt the canvas bag containing the stone. She remembered the jolt of power that had surged through her when she had first touched it in Sinclair’s hotel room. And that was through a canvas bag.

  ‘Feats of great strength,’ repeated Daisy slowly. ‘That’s what my mum described. She said that when she picked up the stone she felt a surge of power, and then she hit the wall with her hand and it left a dent.’

  Blont nodded. ‘She did say that, yes. It’s very … curious.’ Blont swallowed again. ‘Do you … do you have it with you, by any chance?’

  Daisy nodded.

  ‘Should we perhaps take a look at it?’

  Something about the way Blont said this made Daisy look up at him, but he was just smiling his friendly smile. Daisy suddenly felt desperately tired. Wouldn’t it be good to give the stone to someone else to worry about and take care of, and then to go home and lie on her bed and play with dolls for a few days? No it wouldn’t, because she hated playing with dolls, but she did very much want to do something simple and meaningless and forget all about this stone business. It was supposed to be the holidays. She wanted to go to her friend Eliza’s house and eat coconut slice. Although she’d have to digest all those cream buns first.

  Daisy closed her hand around the canvas bag, but didn’t pull it out of her pocket. While part of her wanted to get rid of the stone and never see it again, there was another part that was reluctant to reveal it.

  ‘Let’s have a look, then,’ said Blont, leaning forward.

  Slowly she pulled the bag out and put it on the table. She loosened the strings, and saw the stone glowing blue. She picked it up and immediately a surge of strength and energy surged through her.

  ‘May I see it?’ asked Blont tentatively. He stretched out his hand

  Daisy reminded herself that, out of everyone her mum knew, the one person she had decided she could trust with the stone was Trevor Blont. Giving him the stone was what her mother wanted her to do. Daisy opened her hand. With great care Blont took the stone and, as he did, the sense of power and calm Daisy had felt vanished.

  Blont held the stone up to the light and examined it closely. ‘Goodness,’ he said, a faint tremor in his voice. ‘Finally … goodness.’

  Daisy noticed that the stone was shaking. Sweat beaded on Blont’s forehead. She heard a dog barking outside.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  Blont didn’t reply. He was staring into the stone, which was still shaking. Then Daisy realised. It wasn’t the stone that was shaking. It was Blont’s hand.

  Outside the dog barked louder. Something was gnawing at Daisy’s brain. Something Blont had said.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ she asked.

  Blont was staring at it, smiling. ‘What …? It’s … a blue … stone …’ His voice trailed off.

  The dog was still barking. Daisy walked over to the open window. It was Ben. He was directly below Blont’s room, looking up. Daisy realised what it was that had bothered her. She turned to Blont. ‘Why did you say “finally”?’

  Blont ignored her. He appeared mesmerised by the stone. Daisy remembered something. She moved to his desk and picked up the piece of paper she had seen that had ‘Places to Look’ written on it. Underneath those words was written:

  chamber 6

  chamber 14

  chamber 16

  The passageways – under the floors? Loose rocks in walls?

  Secret spaces underneath the floors or in the walls. Even in the roof?

  What did that mean?

  ‘Excuse me,’ Daisy said more forcefully. ‘Why did you say “finally” when I gave you the stone?’

  Blont looked up. ‘Er … no reason.’

  ‘There must be a reason. People don’t go around saying the word “finally” for no reason. They just don’t. Especially not clever university professors.’

  ‘I didn’t mean … anything,’ said Blont faintly.

  ‘Really?’ asked Daisy. ‘If someone handed me something, the only reason that I would say “finally” would be if I had been looking for it for a long time.’

  ‘No, no, no, my dear. I just said it because … er … we had been talking about the stone for some time and then finally you showed it to me. See?’ Blont smiled weakly.

  ‘Yeah, that sounds true,’ said Daisy, hoping it sounded as sarcastic as she meant it to.

  ‘It is true. You see –’

  Daisy held up the piece of paper. ‘And what’s this?’

  ‘It’s, er … nothing. Just a … piece of paper.’

 
‘With “Places to Look” written on it. What is it you’re looking for?’

  ‘Well, for … um … archaeological … things,’ Blont stuttered.

  ‘What sort of things?’ demanded Daisy.

  ‘Just … things.’

  ‘Then tell me what they are. Because then I’ll stop thinking that maybe it’s a list of places where you thought the blue glowing stone might be. And that now you “finally” have it.’

  Blont opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Daisy, staring hard at him.

  ‘Um … it’s just that …’ began Blont, but that was all he could manage.

  ‘Professor Blont,’ said Daisy, ‘I’m beginning to think that you haven’t been completely honest with me about what you know about that stone.’

  She raised her eyebrows and left a pause so that Blont could explain things to her, but he didn’t.

  ‘Look, Professor, the cream buns were nice and so was the hot chocolate, but there’s something you’re not telling me. What?’

  ‘No, I promise. There’s not.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.’ Daisy held out her hand. ‘Give it back, please,’ she said firmly.

  ‘No! I … I couldn’t. It’s dangerous for whoever has the stone, and you’re just a child, so …’

  ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m going to find my mum and give it back to her.’

  Blont clutched the stone to his chest. ‘No! That wouldn’t be safe.’

  Daisy walked around the desk, picked up Blont’s cane, and raised it above her head. ‘Give it back!’

  Blont leant back in his chair, holding the stone behind his head in his right hand. ‘No, Daisy, that’s not sensible. See, I want to help. I …’

  Daisy felt a surge of rage. She leant forward over the desk and whacked Blont’s right wrist with the cane.

  ‘Oww!’ he cried. The stone went flying across the room to the bookcase where it bounced off The Complete History of Potatoes and fell to the ground. Daisy picked it up.