by Gordon Snell
‘Yes, they were rumours,’ Maria’s father was cautious, ‘but nothing was ever proved.’
‘What happened to the Duffs after they sold the supermarket?’ Maria asked.
‘It’s a tragic story,’ said her mother. ‘They managed to find a small, run-down old house, over on the far side of the lake, and they were going to live there, and do it up. They were going over there in a boat when a storm blew up. The boat capsized and they all drowned.’
‘Mike and Mary Duff are buried in the churchyard here in town,’ said Maria’s father.
‘And Davy?’ asked Maria softly.
‘His body was never found. They searched the lake for days, but there was no sign of him.’
‘He was their only child,’ said Maria’s mother. ‘It was such a tragedy.’
‘Had they any other family?’
‘Not that I know of, but someone told me they heard that Mr Duff’s aunt lived in a cottage just outside the town.’
Maria decided to see what she could find out about the family. At school they were doing a local history project. They had to go and talk to old people and write down their memories of the old days and how people lived. Maybe she could track down Davy’s relative, and find out more about the Duffs. What relation would she be to Davy? Maria worked out that she would be his great-aunt. Perhaps Davy would know where she was. She would ask him tomorrow.
***
‘Auntie Lily, that’s what Mam and Dad called her,’ said Davy the next day, as they stood in the store room. ‘She asked me to call her Lily. She said calling her Great-Aunt Lily would make her feel ancient.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Fun and lively. She used to make us great teas with cream cakes and all. Her cottage was out in the country. She worked in the pet-food factory in town. She drove in every day in a rusty old car. My father said one day it would fall to bits under her and leave her sitting on the road!’
‘Was she married?’
‘For a while, but I never met her husband. They split up. Just as well, my parents said. They said he was a “bad lot”, whatever that means. They never had any children.’
‘I’d like to meet her.’
‘I don’t know if she’s still around. But I could show you where she used to live.’
‘Great. If she’s still there, I can talk to her about her memories for our school history project. But first, we’ve got work to do.’
‘The letter!’
‘Right. I’ve brought some paper and a pen. A dark-red felt pen. Perhaps Paddy will think it’s written in blood!’
‘Fantastic. We can put a skull and crossbones on it.’
‘But that’s for pirates, isn’t it?
‘Never mind, it looks frightening.’
‘Skull and crossbones it is!’ Maria took the paper and pen out of her pocket and knelt down beside a big wooden box. She spread the paper on it, and Davy stood looking over her shoulder, as she began to draw.
‘You’re an artist!’ he said, as he watched Maria draw a big skull with hollow eyes and a toothy grin, and two crossed bones underneath.
Thanks, Davy,’ said Maria. ‘Now, what message shall we write?’
What about, BEWARE! THE DUFFS ARE HERE!’
‘Or maybe, FEAR, FEAR! THE DUFFS ARE HERE!’
‘Maria, you’re a poet as well!’ said Davy.
They laughed as Maria began to write.
CHAPTER SIX
‘There – it’s finished!’ said Maria, holding up the letter. Davy looked at it and smiled. Maria had written the message in big capital letters, and put some dots around the letters, hoping they would look like spots of blood.
‘FEAR, FEAR! THE DUFFS ARE HERE!’
Davy read out.
‘Great work, Maria! That should scare Paddy Breen, he’ll be ready to do whatever we want, and then I can get revenge for what he did to my family.’
Maria wasn’t sure Paddy would scare so easily. She asked:
‘What do we want him to do?’
‘Change the name of the shop for a start,’ said Davy, ‘back to Duff’s Grocers. That’s why we must find the old sign.’
‘And what then?’
‘We’ve got to frighten him so much that he thinks the shop is haunted.’
‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it?’ Maria smiled. ‘Here you are to prove it.’
Davy laughed.
‘Yes, you’re right. And I’m sure he’d be really spooked if he saw me. The trouble is he can’t. No one was able to see me or hear me either. I could jump up and down making blood-curdling screams in the aisles, but I might as well have been a million miles away, for all the notice anyone took of me. That is until you came along, Maria.’
‘But how is it that I’m able to see you?’
‘I don’t know – I guess it’s a mystery. I was hoping you might, and the other day, I just suddenly realised you could. You must have some kind of extra sense. There are people who do. They can make a bridge between their world and ours.’
Maria felt strange. She had that intense cold, shivery feeling again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to have this extra sense that Davy talked about. It was a lot of fun meeting Davy and planning to outwit Paddy Breen. But supposing she got sucked in more and more to his world, as Davy called it. She wondered what would happen if she tore the letter up and said she wouldn’t go on with the plan.
She looked at Davy, as he stared at the letter she had written for him and grinned.
‘Thanks, Maria,’ he said. ‘You’re a real friend.’
She couldn’t let him down now. She’d go on. She was too excited to know what would happen, to give up now.
‘Thanks, Davy,’ she said. ‘You too.’
She put up her hand in a high-five gesture. Davy smiled, raised his own hand and went to slap the palm against hers. But Davy’s hand went right through her own, and as it did, Maria got a freezing-cold sensation.
He smiled sheepishly.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I forgot for a moment.’
‘That was strange,’ she said.
‘What?’
She told him about the cold feeling when their hands met. He looked sad.
Maria smiled.
‘Friends it is, anyway, Davy. But now we’ve got to work something out.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes. What are we going to do with the letter?’
‘I’ve got a great idea,’ said Davy. ‘Could you slip it into one of your father’s loaves while they’re baking? Then it would be a message like a fortune cookie!’
Maria laughed. ‘A great idea, but I’m not sure it would survive the oven. And how could we make sure Paddy Breen got the loaf himself? Some customer might cut into it at home, and complain about my father’s baking.’
‘You could slip the letter into his pocket.’
‘It’s too risky. You know what – I think we should post it! He won’t have any idea who sent it. He’ll be really worried. Then we can think up more ways of scaring him.’
‘Right so, the post it is.’
‘I’ll do it today. With any luck it will arrive first thing in the morning.’
‘I can hardly wait.’
‘Nor me. Hey, I’ve just thought of something we can do. This afternoon, why don’t you bring me out to your Aunt Lily’s. I’ll bring my bike.’
‘That’s terrific. I’ll meet you just outside town, beside the petrol station.’
‘Okay, I’ll be there at three o’clock.’
***
Just before three, Maria leaned her bike against the low wall just past the petrol station. On the way there she had stopped at the post box and posted the letter. She had her notebook, her digital camera and tape-recorder in her rucksack in the basket of her bike. She just hoped that Davy’s great-aunt was still alive, and still living in the cottage.
A big blue car drew up and pulled into the petrol station. It parked just inside the entrance to the forecourt where the pumps were. A big man g
ot out and looked around. It was Paddy Breen. Before Maria could move away, he looked up the road and saw her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maria remembered that Paddy Breen owned this petrol station as well as the supermarket. She wondered if he had swindled somebody else to get that.
Paddy called out:
‘Well, hello Maria! You seem to be turning up everywhere these days. Are you following me like a private eye?’
Maria decided not to answer back and to be polite. She would wait, and enjoy Paddy’s reaction when he got the letter tomorrow.
‘Hello, Mr Breen,’ she called. ‘I was just out for a bike ride.’
‘You won’t need any petrol, then?’ said Paddy Breen sarcastically.
‘I guess not,’ Maria smiled.
‘Then you can stop sitting on the wall of my petrol station.’
Maria was furious, but she didn’t show it. She jumped off the wall and grabbed her bike.
‘I’m sorry Mr Breen,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise it was for customers only.’
Paddy Breen just glared at her. Then he grunted, turned and walked away towards the petrol station.
‘No manners, that’s his problem.’
Maria was startled to hear Davy’s voice just behind her. She turned around.
‘Hi there!’ he said.
‘Hi, Davy,’ said Maria.
‘Shall we head for Auntie Lily’s? I’ll come some of the way with you.’
‘Why not the whole way? I could do with a bit of encouragement.’
Davy looked sad. ‘I’ve tried to get there, often, but after a couple of hundred metres, my powers seem to sort of fade out.’
‘Maybe this time you’ll make it to the cottage.’
‘Let’s hope so. Come on, I’ll run beside you.’
Maria got on her bike and began to pedal along slowly so that Davy could keep up.
‘You can go faster,’ he said.
So Maria pedalled faster. Davy seemed to be falling behind, but he said:
‘Carry on, Maria, I’ll be fine.’
She went on pedalling fast, looking at the road in front. Suddenly, Davy’s figure appeared, about ten metres ahead, running fast. He turned and waved, then went on running. She overtook him, and he told her to keep cycling. He fell behind then suddenly appeared again in front of her. After a while he stopped, and she caught up with him. She stopped too, and got off the bike.
‘Are you all right, Davy?’
He seemed to be gasping for breath. Then Maria realised with a shock that his whole face was getting fainter, and so were his clothes. He was slowly vanishing before her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Maria, it’s happening again. I can’t go any further.’ Davy’s voice was getting weaker. ‘Go on past the crossroads. You’ll see the cottage at the edge of the field, on the left. If I can, I’ll wait for you on the way back, near the petrol station. Good luck.’ He raised his arm limply in a wave. Then he disappeared altogether.
Maria felt a sudden chill come over her and she shivered. Then she grabbed the handlebars and got on the bike. She pedalled as hard as she could. It wasn’t long before she reached the crossroads. She got off her bike. On the far side of the crossroads she could see a field on the left, and a cottage standing on its own behind a straggly hedge. The cottage was made of stone, and had an old, green door, which needed a new lick of paint. There was a window on each side of the door, and a slate roof with a number of missing slates.
Maria wheeled her bike over the crossroads and leaned it against the hedge, beside the broken gate. The tiny garden was neglected and overgrown. This didn’t look very hopeful. The place seemed as if it was deserted.
Maria went up the path and knocked twice on the door using the rusty metal knocker.
She waited. There was no sound, only the wind rustling in the bushes. The sky was a heavy grey colour and it looked like it would rain soon. Maria knocked again. She put her ear against the door. After a while she heard shuffling footsteps inside. Her heart was beating fast, as the footsteps approached. She heard a key turn in the lock, and then with a creaking sound the door opened slowly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Inside the door stood a big woman in a dark-green dress with a white collar. She had grey hair with frizzy curls, and glasses that hung on a cord around her neck.
‘Hello,’ she said, with an air of surprise.
‘Hello,’ said Maria. ‘I was looking for Mrs Lily Duff.’
‘That’s me,’ said the woman, ‘though Marsh is my married name. Are you collecting for a charity?’
‘No, I’m doing a school project for St Mary’s National School. My name is Maria O’Malley. I wonder if I could talk to you for a few minutes?’ Maria said producing a letter from her school about the project.
‘Of course. Come in.’ Mrs Marsh led the way through a small, dark hallway into a sitting room. crammed with furniture and ornaments. There were lots of chairs and small tables, all piled with books and newspapers. Two big armchairs stood on either side of a brick fireplace with framed photographs on the mantelpiece. One was of a smiling couple in a garden – a boy in shorts stood between them. Maria saw with a shock that the boy was Davy.
‘Do sit down, Maria,’ said Mrs Marsh, pointing to one of the armchairs. She sat down opposite and listened as Maria told her that they were collecting stories from older people about what life was like when they were young.
‘Well, I’ll do my best to help you,’ said Mrs Marsh, ‘but you might find my life rather ordinary, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, it’s the ordinary things that are interesting,’ Maria said eagerly, ‘like what games you played when you were children, before there were PlayStations and such, and what kind of food you liked …’
‘I’ll be happy to tell you anything you want to know, just ask away.’
Maria took her notebook and pen out, and put her tape-recorder on the table between them.
‘You’re a very efficient reporter,’ Mrs Marsh. ‘Maybe you’ll work for a newspaper one day.’
Maria smiled. That was exactly the sort of career she dreamed about. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘Now first of all …’
***
Mrs Marsh talked about growing up in the town, her schooldays and the strict rules they had. Then she talked about the job she had helping her brother in the grocery shop and then getting the job in the pet-food factory.
‘The grocery shop,’ said Maria. ‘That would be Duff’s Grocers, where Breen’s Supermarket is now?’
‘That’s right – you’ve certainly done your research well.’
‘My father is a baker; he supplies bread to Breen’s every day. I help him during the holidays.’
‘Of course – O’Malley’s Bakery. So that’s your family’s business. I remember your father as a young lad, long ago. He used to help his father, just like you do now.’
‘What was the shop like when it was Duff’s Grocers?’
‘It was really more of a corner shop originally, but after my brother died, his son and his wife took it over. They were wonderful. They worked so hard, and everyone liked them. They were able to expand. It was a real success story, until …’
‘Until someone started tampering with the food.’
‘How do you know about that?’ asked Mrs Marsh sharply.
‘Oh, I just heard some rumours.’ said Maria.
‘Well, I’d advise you not to go spreading them around. It could get you into trouble. Besides, it’s too late now for the family. We can’t bring any of them back. They’re all gone – all three of them. It will be the anniversary soon: just twenty years since that terrible day.’
Mrs Marsh was gazing at the photograph on the mantelpiece. She started to cry quietly. Maria was more determined than ever to help Davy to get revenge.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Maria. ‘Is that them, in the photo?’
‘That’s right.’ Mrs Marsh sighed.
Maria stood up and looked at the picture in the frame. D
avy’s father had long hair, and an open-neck shirt. His mother’s hair was curly, and she was wearing a smart dress with a white collar. Between them, Davy stood with his hands on his hips, grinning at the camera. It was exactly like the eager smile he still had now.
Lily said:
‘They were a lovely family, and Davy was a great boy, full of fun and fantastic schemes. He was about your age. You’d have liked him.’
‘I’m sure I would,’ Maria smiled.
‘It’s strange, when I see him smiling out at me there in the picture, I almost feel as if he hadn’t drowned at all, that his presence is still around, and he might walk in the door any minute.’ She sighed again.
Maria felt herself shiver. She glanced towards the door, half expecting to see Davy appear. But there was nothing there. She sat down again.
Mrs Marsh went on:
‘It seems so unfair, the younger generations dying first. Now there’s only me left, and I may not be here for that long. Well, not in this house, anyway.’
‘You’re going to move?’
‘I’ll have to. I just got a letter yesterday, saying the landlord wants to put up the rent. I won’t be able to afford it.’
Maria saw her glance at some papers that were on the table. She saw the top one was a letter with a printed heading saying PJB ESTATES. Mrs Marsh was frowning.
Then she looked up at Maria and said:
‘Anyway, this isn’t any help to your project. What else would you like to know?’
Maria asked a few more questions, then took a photo of Mrs Marsh with her digital camera, and asked if she could take one of the family portraits on the mantelpiece.
‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘It would be good to have them remembered in your project.’
***
Maria cycled back towards the town. She was thinking sadly about Mrs Marsh and all she had been through. She wished there was some way she could help her, and then she thought maybe there was. Excited by her idea, Maria pedalled faster. She would talk about it with Davy, if he was there. She just hoped he’d be beside the road where he had said.