Hollow Earth (7 page)

‘One paved road runs the perimeter of the island and one cuts across its middle,’ she continued, as the ferry lifted its ramp like a giant jaw clamping shut. ‘There’s a lovely little town – Seaport – directly on the other side from the Abbey. But the coolest thing about the island is that it has a sister, a smaller island that actually belongs to your grandfather, and is full of all kinds of secret caves and ancient ruins.’

‘What’s the small island called?’ asked Em.

‘Locals call it “wee Auchinmurn”, but its real name is Era Mina, after the Abbey and the monastery that used to be spread across both islands.’ Sandie pointed to a jut of land that peeked from behind the southern tip of Auchinmurn, an ancient Celtic tower visible on the horizon. ‘Your grandfather’s place is on the far side of Auchinmurn, facing Era Mina.’

Matt and Em looked nervous and not nearly as excited as Sandie had hoped. Still, the circumstances were far from ideal for a homecoming.

Seconds after the ferry lurched from the dock, the irate lorry driver marched towards them. ‘That wean needs a good smacking, he does,’ he yelled at Sandie, jabbing his fingers angrily in the air above Matt’s head. ‘Now ’cos of him ah’m stuck at the back of this tug. Ye should keep a better eye on yer weans!’ Then he stomped off down to the parking deck.

A well-dressed elderly woman, with a briefcase at her feet and blue chiffon scarf protecting her hair from the sea spray, stepped away from the rail and came over to Matt. ‘Ne’er mind him, son,’ she said kindly. ‘Some folks are born rude. Al Swanson’s one of them. He’s a miserable fella.’

A few other locals seated in the foredeck nodded in agreement. Matt shifted from his mum’s side to an empty bench.

Em, who was looking over the side at the churning water, squealed in delight. ‘Mum, look – jellyfish! Hundreds and hundreds of them. They’re following the boat!’

Sandie looked. The water was thick with translucent pink bell-like creatures of varying sizes, some as big as footballs, others as small as a baby’s fist, trailing the wake of the ferry.

The lady in the chiffon scarf peered over the deck next to Em. ‘We call them moon jellies, dear. When the light of a full moon hits them, it’s like the stars have fallen into the sea. It’s quite a sight. But they’re not really following the ship. The ferry’s creating a current that’s dragging them along.’

Sandie took a quick look at Matt behind her. He was slumped over his backpack. She tried to stifle her irritation. Was he drawing? He looked like he might be. But since Em was thoroughly engaged with the jellyfish, she decided to let him be.

The ferry ride lasted about fifteen minutes. As soon as the ship docked, the pedestrians streamed off to waiting tour buses, bike rentals or their own cars left in the car park.

Sandie stepped off the ferry and on to the island, immediately spotting Renard’s right-hand man, Simon Butler. He was leaning against a Range Rover, reading the newspaper, looking exactly as Sandie remembered: a handsome, thirty-something ex-football player, with a dodgy knee and lots of attitude. As he spotted Sandie, he tossed the paper into the front seat and jogged to greet her.

With the leather satchel and her messenger bag bouncing against her hips, Sandie ran to him. They met in the middle of the car park in a swinging, wild embrace. When the twins caught up, their mum and Simon were laughing and crying and making complete fools of themselves.

‘Matt and Em,’ said Sandie, pulling away at last, ‘this is Simon.’

Em smiled and shook Simon’s hand. Matt nodded, keeping his hands in his pockets.

Sandie was about to make Matt take his hands from his pockets when Simon spoke. ‘It’s lovely to see you both. I help run your grandfather’s business.’ He opened the car doors. ‘My son, Zach, lives at your grandfather’s place, too. He’ll be thrilled to have some company his own age.’

From the ferry behind them, car horns were blaring.

The twins looked over at the parking deck. The first two rows of vehicles were exiting the ferry, but the rest of the cars were caught behind Al Swanson’s lorry. He and a few of the ferry crew stood in front of the lorry’s cab, gazing in utter bewilderment at a jellyfish the size of a beach ball that was firmly attached to the windscreen.

TWELVE

T
he sign on the impressive wrought-iron gates read ‘The Abbey’. Simon tapped a button on the car’s dashboard, and the gate slowly swung open. As they drove through on to a narrow lane shaded by a canopy of trees, they could see the water of Largs Bay on their left, but to their right there was only a wilderness of foliage and trees. Up ahead, the edges of a brick structure were visible behind a tall, stone wall with an arched gateway. When the Range Rover drove out from the cover of the trees, even Matt gasped.

‘Our grandfather owns this?’ asked Em.

Simon smiled. ‘Welcome.’

‘Wow,’ Matt managed. ‘It looks more like a castle than a church.’

Simon nodded. ‘It’s built around one of the oldest fortified tower structures remaining in Scotland,’ he explained.

The tower on the right was about fifty feet taller than the one on the left, a flagpole flying the St Andrew’s cross and another flag showing the Abbey’s crest – a majestic white stag with enormous wings. The central structure connecting the two towers was three storeys high and topped with a series of turrets that Em decided were part of the Abbey’s living space. She’d spotted the shadow of a figure darting away from one of the turret windows when they’d pulled into the courtyard. In the distance, perched on the promontory of Era Mina, was another Celtic tower that Matt thought had to be at least a hundred feet tall.

‘When the original parts of the Abbey were built in the thirteen hundreds,’ explained Simon, while Matt, Em and Sandie climbed out of the car, ‘the monks needed protection as much as they needed a place to worship. Auchinmurn was regularly under attack from Vikings and pirates and sometimes other Scottish nobles who wanted the island for their own, so the tower you can see was used as a lookout.’

The twins couldn’t stop gawking at the amazing structure before them. Matt especially was fascinated with the carved detail on the tower’s cornices – gargoyles of teeth-baring, two-headed dogs.

‘Now, how about a quick tour of the grounds, to give your mum a chance to catch up with your grandfather?’ Simon prompted.

‘Sure,’ said Matt, still gazing at the building.

‘Yes, please,’ said Em.

‘He’s in the library,’ Simon told Sandie in a low voice.

Her heart fluttering, Sandie lifted the satchel and her bag out of the car, crossed the courtyard and went inside through two massive, oak doors set in an arched, medieval portal.

‘Now, you two,’ said Simon, turning back to the twins. ‘Let’s head down to the jetty first.’

He led Matt and Em through the tower’s arched gate to the rear of the Abbey. They walked along a path that wound its way through vegetable gardens and flowerbeds, bordered by the same ancient stone wall.

‘Do you like to garden?’

‘We live … lived in a flat in London,’ answered Matt. ‘We grew some herbs once in a pot.’

Simon laughed. ‘Our housekeeper, Jeannie, will be recruiting you both, I’m sure. These are her gardens, and she grows most of what she cooks for us.’

‘What if you want a burger?’ asked Em, not a vegetable lover.

‘That she negotiates with the local butcher.’

They left the secluded garden path and walked out of the shade across a manicured lawn. On the far horizon, the islands their mum had pointed out to them loomed even larger, and in every direction on the water, there were boats of all sizes. The closer the three of them came to the water, the less perfect the lawn became, until it eventually rolled into a rocky shoreline and a pebbled beach. The jetty looked modern but well used, with two bench seats at the end. The linked boathouse was a heavy wooden structure, built to withstand the powerful winds and storms coming off the Atlantic.

‘Do either of you like to fish?’

Matt and Em looked at each other. In unison, they shrugged.

‘Never done it,’ said Matt.

‘That’ll change, too.’

Matt and Em were still a bit stunned by the sheer size of the Abbey, its grounds and its breathtaking vistas, but Matt in particular was in awe of the Celtic tower perched on the point of the smaller island across the water.

‘It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?’ Simon said, noting Matt’s interest.

The three of them walked out to the end of the jetty.

‘I’ve read a lot of books about ruins and castles,’ said Matt. ‘But nothing compares to actually seeing it.’

‘He’s a dork about that kind of stuff,’ Em cut in.

Matt ignored his sister’s taunt. He was far more interested in the history looming in front of him. ‘Why would monks have a watchtower built over there on the smaller island and not over here?’

Simon hesitated for a beat. ‘I think the answer has something to do with the smaller island being the first line of defence during an invasion. The tower would have had a better view of the sea to the north, which was the direction most of the invaders, especially the Vikings, would have come from. But you’ll learn about all that when you start your lessons.’

‘Lessons? We’re going to go to school here?’ asked Em incredulously.

‘Yes, Em,’ said Simon, smiling at her reaction. ‘Your grandfather and I will be your teachers at the Abbey. Now, shall we continue our tour?’

The twins were so stunned by this information that they simply nodded.

Em and Simon walked back up the jetty to the shore, but Matt stayed behind, staring at the tower. It didn’t make any sense. When masons built these lookout towers, their primary function was to warn the castle’s inhabitants or the surrounding town of approaching invaders. Usually a lookout would ring the bell at the top of the tower and, if necessary, fire flaming arrows or catapult pots of boiling tar at the invaders to slow their advance. And sometimes, but not very often, the towers were used to protect people from the invaders. This tower was far too narrow to protect more than a few people. Not only that, but its position and its few arrow slits were all wrong for fending off invaders.

‘Matt, are you coming?’ called Simon.

Matt ran along the jetty to catch up, deciding that this was a pretty cool place. The Abbey was as impressive at the back as at the front, but for different reasons. The front hinted at the medieval fortress it once was, but the rear suggested a very modern mansion. Expansive windows replaced sections of the stone walls in the main part of the building, the cloisters on the western side had been renovated to create studios for students and artists in residence at the Abbey. At the far edge of the studios, a grove of birch trees stretched back to the beach. About twenty steps into the first line of birches, a large mirror of coloured glass hung between two of the trees in a sort of hammock of silver chains. Identical pieces hung from the next four birch rows, creating an overlapping line of glass all the way to the water.

Tearing her eyes away, Em looked back at the Abbey. There was something strange about the windows that she couldn’t quite work out. They walked across the lawn to the former stables and peeked inside. Two had been converted into garages, but it was the cloisters on this side that made Em smile the widest as they housed a full-on gym and a pool. Their grandfather was clearly loaded.

‘Do either of you like to swim?’ asked Simon, sliding open a heavy glass door to reveal the pool and gym equipment.

‘I love it!’ said Em excitedly.

‘So so,’ said Matt, not wanting to look overly impressed.

Simon smiled to himself at the difference between the twins’ levels of enthusiasm. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Tour’s over.’

He led them up to a flagstone terrace, furnished with two umbrella tables and groupings of chairs and loungers. French doors were open on to the terrace from a kitchen. Em stopped and stared. That’s what was niggling her about this place. All of the glass – on the windows, the doors, even the cloisters – was smoky and dark. From the outside, no one could see into any part of the Abbey.

Pretty sure the monks didn’t put that in
, she thought.

‘Ready to meet your grandfather?’ asked Simon, welcoming them into the biggest kitchen they’d ever seen.