Lucy got to her feet and dumped her bag of food unceremoniously on the grass.
‘Sure and we’ve come all this way so I’m not going home wit’out taking a look,’ she announced firmly. ‘You coming, Cait?’
‘Of course I’m coming,’ Caitlin said, getting to her feet in her turn. ‘Castle or hut first?’
‘Oh, hut, because it’ll probably be easier to get in.’
It was true that, now they were so close to the castle, they could see all manner of rubbish piled up in the entrance. It would be the floods, Lucy thought wisely. Bits of branches, what looked horribly like a dead sheep, half a hen coop, there were all sorts in the wide stone archway, but the hut, because its doorway faced a different direction, might well be easier of access.
The two girls climbed the short distance to the turf hut and bent to peer inside. It was very dark in there, but reassuringly empty. There was a fireplace thick with ashes opposite the low entrance, a couple of what looked like bracken couches and a lopsided, short-legged wooden table, so old that it had actually sunk into the earth floor, and nothing else, unless you counted the smell which was almost thick enough to touch.
‘Someone’s eaten a lot of fish in here,’ Caitlin said. ‘Doesn’t it stink?’
‘Yes, it does. And they’ve kept hens, too,’ Lucy decided. ‘That’s chicken dirt by the bracken. Phew, let’s go before we’re gassed!’
Giggling, the two of them abandoned the hut and made for the castle entrance. Working briskly, they cleared it in ten minutes, then peered cautiously in – and were pleasantly surprised.
The small part of the castle which still stood and was referred to locally as the ‘keep’ had no roof of any description, so it wasn’t dark. The walls towered up and up on three sides but the wall facing the lough was no more than six feet high. And despite the fact that the walls were patently inside walls, they had, over the passage of time, taken on many of the attributes of outside walls. Little ferns and wild flowers grew on them, a honeysuckle had seeded itself in the shelter and had climbed the ten feet necessary and now it let its sprays of pink and gold sweetness cascade over the grey stones. To their right an enormous stone fireplace was crammed and crowded with wild roses which fought for space with tall foxgloves and with more honeysuckle, all anxious to seed themselves in this strangely sheltered spot.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Caitlin said slowly. ‘It’s like the secret garden in that book your Maeve read us when we had measles last winter. Where’s the door to the tower, then?’
They knew from their observation of the castle that the tower had no outside door and for a moment they thought it had no inside one either, then Lucy spotted it. In the near corner was a narrow wooden door, tightly closed, in silvery grey wood. Oddly, it looked in quite good repair. She pointed.
‘There’s the door. Shall we go up?’
‘Might as well,’ Caitlin said with a nonchalance which, this time, was only partly assumed. The sheer beauty of the castle keep and its wonderful collection of sheltered wild flowers had made the entire expedition suddenly less frightening. Witches, Lucy was sure, did not live in bowers!
‘I wonder if it’s locked?’ Lucy said, and gave the door a shove. It opened immediately, and the pair of them almost tumbled into a small, round room with a narrow slit window in the wall far higher than their heads and a set of curling stone steps which led up, and up, and up . . .
‘Come on, we might as well take a look,’ Lucy said. She led the way up the stairs and when she reached the slit window, stopped for a moment to peer out. ‘It’s a lovely view,’ she said. ‘Take a look, Caitlin. You can see the sea!’
‘I will,’ Caitlin said, following her. ‘Why does the staircase just stop? I always thought you could get out at the top, I don’t know why.’
‘You can, there’s a door,’ Lucy
‘Sure and we’ve come all this way so I’m not going home wit’out taking a look,’ she announced firmly. ‘You coming, Cait?’
‘Of course I’m coming,’ Caitlin said, getting to her feet in her turn. ‘Castle or hut first?’
‘Oh, hut, because it’ll probably be easier to get in.’
It was true that, now they were so close to the castle, they could see all manner of rubbish piled up in the entrance. It would be the floods, Lucy thought wisely. Bits of branches, what looked horribly like a dead sheep, half a hen coop, there were all sorts in the wide stone archway, but the hut, because its doorway faced a different direction, might well be easier of access.
The two girls climbed the short distance to the turf hut and bent to peer inside. It was very dark in there, but reassuringly empty. There was a fireplace thick with ashes opposite the low entrance, a couple of what looked like bracken couches and a lopsided, short-legged wooden table, so old that it had actually sunk into the earth floor, and nothing else, unless you counted the smell which was almost thick enough to touch.
‘Someone’s eaten a lot of fish in here,’ Caitlin said. ‘Doesn’t it stink?’
‘Yes, it does. And they’ve kept hens, too,’ Lucy decided. ‘That’s chicken dirt by the bracken. Phew, let’s go before we’re gassed!’
Giggling, the two of them abandoned the hut and made for the castle entrance. Working briskly, they cleared it in ten minutes, then peered cautiously in – and were pleasantly surprised.
The small part of the castle which still stood and was referred to locally as the ‘keep’ had no roof of any description, so it wasn’t dark. The walls towered up and up on three sides but the wall facing the lough was no more than six feet high. And despite the fact that the walls were patently inside walls, they had, over the passage of time, taken on many of the attributes of outside walls. Little ferns and wild flowers grew on them, a honeysuckle had seeded itself in the shelter and had climbed the ten feet necessary and now it let its sprays of pink and gold sweetness cascade over the grey stones. To their right an enormous stone fireplace was crammed and crowded with wild roses which fought for space with tall foxgloves and with more honeysuckle, all anxious to seed themselves in this strangely sheltered spot.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Caitlin said slowly. ‘It’s like the secret garden in that book your Maeve read us when we had measles last winter. Where’s the door to the tower, then?’
They knew from their observation of the castle that the tower had no outside door and for a moment they thought it had no inside one either, then Lucy spotted it. In the near corner was a narrow wooden door, tightly closed, in silvery grey wood. Oddly, it looked in quite good repair. She pointed.
‘There’s the door. Shall we go up?’
‘Might as well,’ Caitlin said with a nonchalance which, this time, was only partly assumed. The sheer beauty of the castle keep and its wonderful collection of sheltered wild flowers had made the entire expedition suddenly less frightening. Witches, Lucy was sure, did not live in bowers!
‘I wonder if it’s locked?’ Lucy said, and gave the door a shove. It opened immediately, and the pair of them almost tumbled into a small, round room with a narrow slit window in the wall far higher than their heads and a set of curling stone steps which led up, and up, and up . . .
‘Come on, we might as well take a look,’ Lucy said. She led the way up the stairs and when she reached the slit window, stopped for a moment to peer out. ‘It’s a lovely view,’ she said. ‘Take a look, Caitlin. You can see the sea!’
‘I will,’ Caitlin said, following her. ‘Why does the staircase just stop? I always thought you could get out at the top, I don’t know why.’
‘You can, there’s a door,’ Lucy
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