Heart of the Hill by Andrea Spalding Page B

back?
    She opened her eyes and stared down at the bronze bowl. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. She knew the myths and legends. This was trouble. No one should ever bring back things from the past.
    Holly stumbled across the lawn to the farmhouse hoping she could get to the bathroom before anyone noticed her.
    She slipped into the house by the back door.

    Late that evening, the cousins gathered in Holly’s bedroom and gazed down at the bronze cup hidden in a drawer, under Holly’s socks.
    â€œCrikey,” whispered Owen. He stuck out a finger and poked it. “Is it magic? Do we rub it or anything?”
    â€œYou mean like rubbing a magic lamp? Don’t be daft. This isn’t a Walt Disney film,” said Holly crossly.
    â€œHey, keep your voice down,” Owen reminded her.
    Holly and Owen, Adam and Chantel held their breaths and listened, but no adults called. They relaxed.
    â€œCan I hold it?” asked Adam.
    â€œI suppose so,” said Holly uneasily. “Nothing happened when I held it. But how are we going to get it back?”
    Adam eased the bronze bowl from its nest.
    â€œIt’s fantastic,” Chantel whispered.
    Adam grunted agreement. He turned the bowl and gazed at it. “Just think … it’s thousands of years old… it’s beautifully made. Look at the beads decorating the rim, and its shape is perfect. It just fits.” He cupped the bowl in both hands and mimed lifting it to his lips. It fit into his palms as though it belonged there. “Oh … it’s been mended.” His finger had discovered a rough spot. He turned the bowl and showed the others. A tiny square of bronze patched a crack in the bottom, so skillfully riveted that it was almost invisible.
    â€œDon’t mess with it,” said Holly, jerking the cup out of his hands. She thrust it back in the drawer.
    â€œHey, you don’t have to snatch,” said Adam. He frowned. That wasn’t like Holly.
    â€œIt’s the Lady’s cup, a sacred object from the past. It must go back,” Holly’s voice was fretful. She shuddered. “But I don’t want to get sucked through the labyrinth again.” She cradled her throbbing arm, now bound and hidden under a long-sleeved T-shirt. “The Portal was creepy. Besides, who knows what door I’d get next time? I might never return.” She looked at the others.
    â€œWhat should we do?”
    â€œTake the bowl to Glastonbury, “ said Adam promptly.
    â€œGive it to Myrddin.”
    Holly gave a sigh of relief. “Yes. He can send it back. He’s the magician.” She shut the drawer with a bang and winced as the muscles in her arm flexed.
    â€œYou should go to the doctor,” said Owen uneasily. “You’ve a pretty big gash. And there wasn’t much antiseptic cream left in the bathroom cupboard.”
    Holly shook her head. “And say what? It’s obviously a knife wound. It’s way too big for a bramble slash, and all heck will break loose if the adults think we were playing around with knives.”
    â€œOkay, okay, it’s your arm,” said Owen, but he and Adam exchanged uneasy glances.

    Chantel’s visit to the hospital early next morning went without incident. Though her leg looked wasted and thin after being in a cast for six weeks, she was pronounced fit and just had to promise to exercise carefully until the muscles strengthened.
    â€œSee…I won’t slow you down anymore!” Chantel crowed as she burst through the farmhouse door, limping a little but without her crutches.
    Adam sighed. Now his nosy little sister would be into everything again.
    â€œWhen are we leaving for Glastonbury?” asked Chantel eagerly.
    â€œIn an hour,” he said shortly.

    Lynne used her foot to push open the girls’ bedroom door. Her arms were piled high with folded clothes.
    Holly looked up. “Brilliant, Mum. I need