Milo and the Raging Chieftains (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

MISS LEE TO THE RESCUE

‘
W
ell, well, if it isn’t the dozy duo. Is the bogey man after you, guys?’

It was our arch enemies, Wedge and Crunch, two toughs always up to no good.

‘What scared you nerds?’ sneered Wedge.

‘Scared? Nah,’ I said, trying to sound tough and confident – but the words sounded like a sick mouse coughing up a bit of hard cheese.

Crunch grabbed my jacket and pulled me so close to his ugly face that I could see right up his nose. Not a pretty picture, I tell you.

‘Hello, boys.’

We all turned. I was never so glad to see a teacher, especially when it was our own class teacher, Miss Lee, her shiny red,
high-heeled
shoes clip-clopping as she came towards us.

‘Having a nice chat, are we?’ she went on, her eyes boring holes into Wedge and Crunch.

‘Just chatting to the lads here, Miss,’ said Wedge, all smarmy.

‘Yeah, chattin’,’ added Crunch, letting go of my jacket and pretending he was just brushing it down. ‘About school,’ he sniggered.

‘Ah, that’s great,’ said Miss Lee. ‘I love
chatting about school. Can I join your discussion, boys? What do you like best about school? Do tell.’

Wedge’s head shrank between his shoulders. He looked at his wrist where a watch might have been but wasn’t.

‘Erm … we have to be somewhere in a minute, me and Crunch,’ he muttered.

‘Go where, Wedge …?’ Crunch began, before Wedge gave him a dig on the shoulder.

‘Oh, do you really have to go, lads?’ asked Miss Lee. ‘Shame. Catch you some other time for that chat then.’

They scarpered down the road. Wedge stopped for a second to look back with a warning glare at me and Shane. We moved closer to Miss Lee. To protect her, you understand.

‘Well, you two,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy your tour?’

‘What do you mean, Miss?’ asked Shane, all wide-eyed innocence.

‘I mean that I was inside the castle and saw you two trespassers skulking about. Luckily, I was chatting with one of the people working on the restoration, and told him you were harmless. If I knew you were interested, I could have shown you around. My ancestors—’

‘Harmless!’ I interrupted. I’d have preferred to be called a hooligan or something a bit more macho.

Shane’s belly wobbled as he thumped his chest. ‘Oh, Miss,’ he said. ‘We’re tough me and Milo. If you hadn’t come along, we’d have knocked those two into pulp and left them on the ground for stray dogs to eat …’

‘Of course you would, Shane,’ chuckled Miss Lee. ‘Now, get along home both of you. Next time I might not be here to save
you from bullies and raging workmen.’

‘Whew,’ I said to Shane as we ran home. ‘That was a close shave.’

‘No way,’ he panted. ‘We really would have flattened those two poo-bags.’

‘Shane,’ I laughed. ‘We’d be dragging our way home carrying our heads in our hands if Miss Lee hadn’t come along.’

‘Yeah,’ he said sheepishly as we came to our road. ‘Maybe.’

As he threw his kitbag over the gate to his house, my heart did a double somersault.

‘Oh, shoot!’ I cried out.

‘What’s up?’ Shane asked, climbing over the gate like he always does, because he’s too lazy to use the bolt that’s gone stiff.

‘My football kit!’ I yelped. ‘I’ve left it in the castle courtyard! Mum will explode!’

‘You’d better get moving, then,’ said Shane, looking at his watch. ‘The castle will
be locked in five minutes.’

I was stunned. My best mate turning his back on me and walking away!

‘Shane!’ I yelled. ‘Come on. You can’t leave me in this mess.’

He turned around and grinned. ‘I’m getting my bike,’ he said. ‘You go and get yours. We’ll never make it in time on foot.’

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Mum would see me and ask questions.’

‘That’s OK, Milo,’ said Shane. ‘You can ride passenger on mine.’

‘Your new bike?’ I exclaimed. ‘Cool.’

Now that’s real friendship. Big Ella had bought Shane a super bike for his birthday. But just as my heart began to switch to a normal beat, the front door opened and Big Ella pranced out, eyes blazing.

‘Shane!’ she boomed. ‘What time do you call this? You should have been home
an hour ago.’

Shane’s face wobbled. ‘Milo and me, we were just—’ he began.

‘I don’t care where you two were just. You get in here now before your dinner shrivels to soot. And Milo,’ she added, turning her eyes on me, ‘you’d best get home too, boy. Your mum’s been looking for you.’

We exchanged defeated glances. You don’t argue with Big Ella when she rants.

‘You can tell your mum that I have your football kit,’ Shane muttered. ‘We’ll get it tomorrow. Don’t worry.’

‘If it’s still there,’ I groaned.

Mum wasn’t home when I let myself in. She had left a note to say that she’d gone to pick up Dad because the Garda car had a puncture. My heart sank when I saw the basket of dirty clothes beside the washing machine. I knew she’d ask me for my football
kit to put in with them. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to what I had to do. Maybe if I cycled to the castle, I might be just in time to slip through that gate. The word ‘maybe’ is not very comforting when you’re in a serious fix.

CHAPTER FOUR

AN OLD FRIEND RETURNS

I
raced through the town, keeping a watchful eye for Mum and Dad in the oncoming traffic and trying to make up a reason why I was belting along the street on my bike. I couldn’t believe my luck when I got to the back gate of the castle and found that it still hadn’t been bolted properly. I just about managed to squeeze my bike in and
headed for the place where I’d left my kit. The silence was the first thing I noticed. No hammering or voices. And the sinking sun was making the dark corners and arches mighty creepy in the big, silent courtyard. I wheeled my bike over to the place where I’d hidden my football kit. There it was! ‘I’m saved,’ I said out loud, securing the kitbag on the carrier and mounting the bike. Mission accomplished. ‘Yee ha!’ I whooped. That’s when I heard another voice from above.

‘Ah, Milo, my friend.’

Sitting high up in the arch of a window was a face and shape I knew well.

‘Mister Lewis!’ I shouted. ‘It’s you! I can’t believe it.’

Sure enough, it really was my good, dead friend who’d helped me save Shane and Big Ella from the clutches of an ancient
angry druid called Amergin.

‘The same old me,’ he replied. ‘I was hoping to meet you.’

‘I thought you’d be kinda wafting on clouds and, eh, looking a bit more …’

‘A bit more stylish and handsome?’ he put in.

‘Something like that,’ I said, looking at the same old shabby coat and leaning-to-one-side high hat. ‘Not wishing to hurt your feelings or anything, but I’d have thought you’d at least have a decent suit and a harp.’

‘Harp parp!’ he said with a sniff. ‘Hmff. No such luck. I’m in a sort of holding place.’

‘A what?’ I asked.

‘It’s where dead people like me are sent to help others who’ve made mistakes in life to go back and sort things out.’

‘So, who are you helping?’ I asked, looking warily around the deserted courtyard. Mister Lewis leaned back towards the window.

‘It’s all right,’ he called out. ‘Milo is my very good friend. You can come out now.’

I was still wary of seeing any more deceased ancients shuffling about. I steeled myself for whatever big ghoul would appear. No fears, I told myself – fearfully. Mister Lewis will protect me. Still, I picked up my bike, ready for a quick exit.

I looked up at the window where Mister Lewis was holding out his hand behind him to help out whatever was in there. The first thing that appeared on the parapet was a skinny leg followed by another skinny leg, both of them in red tights. So far so unscary. The rest followed – a red, silky sort of frock, a pale face, sticky-out ears
and a head of long, spiky red hair, down to the shoulders.

‘A girl!’ I shouted up to Mister Lewis. ‘You’ve been lumbered with helping a skinny girl!’ I had to laugh.

Mister Lewis shook his head – slowly in case an ear or part of his nose might drop off.

The figure stood up straight on the parapet, hands on hips, eyes glaring down at me.

‘Ossie,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘Take that scowl off your face and say hello to my good friend, Milo …’

‘Osgur,’ the redhead interrupted. ‘My name is Osgur, in honour of my father’s ancestor.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘So you keep telling me.’

I was surprised at his attitude.

‘You shouldn’t be rude to a girl, Mister Lewis,’ I called up.

‘I’m not a girl. I’m a BOY!’ Ossie shouted down at me.

Well, there was no answer to that. Folks from the past have strange taste in clothes and hairstyles, that’s for sure. However, I didn’t fancy hanging about listening to a grumpy guy, especially one in a frock.

‘I’d best be off home, Mister Lewis,’ I said. ‘It’s great to see you again, but it’s getting dark. I’ll be in right trouble …’

‘No, Milo. Wait!’ Mister Lewis called out. ‘We need your help. Can you come back tomorrow night? About ten thirty would be good.’

‘Huh?’ I exclaimed.

‘Please,’ Mister Lewis added urgently.

‘How could
I
help?’ I began. ‘What would—?’

‘Good lad. I knew we could depend on you,’ Mister Lewis interrupted, before I could find a polite way to say ‘no’ to more ghostly shenanigans.

‘Oh, and bring your bicycle,’ he added, before the two of them disappeared inside.

CHAPTER FIVE

DAD'S ADVICE

L
uckily, I got home just minutes before Mum and Dad arrived.

‘Sorry we're late, Milo,' said Mum. ‘We met your nice Miss Lee in the supermarket and we went for coffee.'

‘She says you're a great kid,' said Dad.

‘No need to sound so surprised, Dad,' I muttered.

‘Surprised? No,' he said, straight-faced. ‘Just shocked.'

I wondered how really shocked he'd be if I told him I'd been at the castle talking to a couple of ghosts. I should have said ‘no' to Mr Lewis. And now he'd gone away thinking I would meet him the next night. I was so worried I stayed up as late as possible. I even offered to make sandwiches for Mum and Dad to stretch out the time, but they just fell about laughing and sent me to bed.

‘You might be sorry' was my parting shot. As I went upstairs, I imagined them sniffling into their hankies and being totally woebegone when me and my bike disappeared. That would teach them a lesson – except I wouldn't be around to say ‘I told you so'. I'd be floating about on cold moonlit nights.

When Dad arrived in my room later with a mug of hot chocolate, I was still sifting
through all the scariest stuff you could imagine.

‘I thought you were looking a bit peaky, son,' he said, sitting on the bed and feeling my forehead. ‘Everything OK?'

‘No, Dad,' I sighed. ‘I've kinda promised to help someone and now I don't want to.'

‘Well,' he said, ‘do what I do when I don't want to face up to a big guy with a squashed face and a hammer who's running out of a shop with wads of cash.'

‘You run away,' I said eagerly. ‘That's the right thing to do, isn't it? Save yourself.'

‘No, lad.' Dad was shaking his head. ‘I do what a cop is supposed to do. I nab him because I've sworn to do that. And that's how it is. If you've promised help, then it's only right to go through with it. You want to talk about it?'

‘No thanks, Dad,' I whispered, so that my
voice wouldn't come out as a scream. If I told him the truth, my dad would laugh and pat my head before sending me to a shrink, who'd be even scarier than any of the dead people I've come up against.

‘OK,' said Dad, getting up. ‘You'll be glad when you've helped. You're an honourable kid, Milo,' he went on as he plumped my pillow. ‘Now, get that hot choc inside you and get some sleep. You'll laugh at yourself in the morning.'

‘Yeah, Dad, I'm laughing already,' I groaned.