when we’ve seen whatever there is to see,’ she said decidedly. ‘If there’s a stair that’s safe we can climb up and eat on top of the tower, perhaps. Come on, let’s hurry.’
If the look Caitlin gave her was less than friendly she did not care, for she sensed the underlying admiration. So the two of them set off along the winding little lane, dreaming along in the sunshine, with their eyes every now and then unwillingly drawn to the tower ahead whilst Lucy, at least, kept her imagination firmly under lock and key. But despite their wanderings in the soft, summery air, the castle got nearer and nearer, until at last only the marsh separated them from it.
‘We’ll go down to the creek first and have a good look at the boat,’ Caitlin said at this point. ‘Suppose it was a fairy boat, fancy missing it!’
‘Even an ordinary boat would be good,’ Lucy panted, following her longer-legged friend down onto the marsh. ‘I don’t suppose anyone would mind if we just sat in it?’
‘We could go to sea,’ Caitlin said. ‘It’s just an old, abandoned boat; nobody would care, probably.’
But when they reached the pebbly beach they could see for themselves that the boat was by no means abandoned. It was a curragh as they had guessed and it had been tarred fairly recently judging by the sharp smell of it and the gleam of the fresh tar. It was lying bottom up and the girls prowled round it, trying to assess just when it had last been used.
‘The tar may be shining because of the sun,’ Caitlin said at length. ‘Give me a hand, we’ll turn it over.’
It didn’t take much strength for it was a light, handy little craft.
‘Just right for two girls,’ Lucy said wistfully. ‘The inside isn’t too clean, but it’s a dear little boat. No oars, though.’
Caitlin wrinkled her nose. ‘It smells fishy, but who cares for that? We could paddle up the creek using our hands, I should think. And further up, where there’s trees, we’d probably find something we could use for oars.’
‘Shall we just push it on the water a little way?’ Lucy suggested, rocking the boat on its shingly bed with one wistful finger. ‘Sure and no one would want to keep it on land all the while, the poor little curragh; it’s longing for a dip, I can tell.’
‘Well, I suppose we could . . . but let’s take a look at the castle first. We might even find the oars there – who knows?’
The girls turned and surveyed the castle once more. It looked a lot bigger from here, but still not too dangerous; not with the sun shining.
‘It’s on a little hill; I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before,’ Lucy said at last. ‘It’s well above the marsh now, but in winter, when the sea backs up, I’ve seen it surrounded by water more than once.’
‘Who owns it, I wonder?’ Caitlin said as they began to jump from tussock to tussock, carefully avoiding the brackish pools. ‘Your grandad’s beasts graze on the marsh but I don’t think he’s got anything to do with the castle, has he?’
‘Our cattle graze all over,’ Lucy pointed out. ‘But they’re not fools and it’s much wetter here than it is to either side because of the creek, I suppose.’
‘We’re almost there,’ Caitlin panted.
‘True,’ Lucy said. She reached the little hillock and hauled herself up on it, sitting down and breathing hard.
Caitlin came up out of the marsh dragging the bottle of lemon barley water. She sank onto the grass beside Lucy.
‘I wonder if this castle ever had a moat and if that’s why the marsh is marshier around it?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Lucy said. She found that she did not much want to go on sitting here, talking about the castle, with her back towards it, though. Just supposed there was someone . . . She turned and stared up at it. Close to, like this, what you noticed most was the dilapidation, the air of quiet but lengthy neglect. It must have been lived in once, but if so it was a long time ago.
If the look Caitlin gave her was less than friendly she did not care, for she sensed the underlying admiration. So the two of them set off along the winding little lane, dreaming along in the sunshine, with their eyes every now and then unwillingly drawn to the tower ahead whilst Lucy, at least, kept her imagination firmly under lock and key. But despite their wanderings in the soft, summery air, the castle got nearer and nearer, until at last only the marsh separated them from it.
‘We’ll go down to the creek first and have a good look at the boat,’ Caitlin said at this point. ‘Suppose it was a fairy boat, fancy missing it!’
‘Even an ordinary boat would be good,’ Lucy panted, following her longer-legged friend down onto the marsh. ‘I don’t suppose anyone would mind if we just sat in it?’
‘We could go to sea,’ Caitlin said. ‘It’s just an old, abandoned boat; nobody would care, probably.’
But when they reached the pebbly beach they could see for themselves that the boat was by no means abandoned. It was a curragh as they had guessed and it had been tarred fairly recently judging by the sharp smell of it and the gleam of the fresh tar. It was lying bottom up and the girls prowled round it, trying to assess just when it had last been used.
‘The tar may be shining because of the sun,’ Caitlin said at length. ‘Give me a hand, we’ll turn it over.’
It didn’t take much strength for it was a light, handy little craft.
‘Just right for two girls,’ Lucy said wistfully. ‘The inside isn’t too clean, but it’s a dear little boat. No oars, though.’
Caitlin wrinkled her nose. ‘It smells fishy, but who cares for that? We could paddle up the creek using our hands, I should think. And further up, where there’s trees, we’d probably find something we could use for oars.’
‘Shall we just push it on the water a little way?’ Lucy suggested, rocking the boat on its shingly bed with one wistful finger. ‘Sure and no one would want to keep it on land all the while, the poor little curragh; it’s longing for a dip, I can tell.’
‘Well, I suppose we could . . . but let’s take a look at the castle first. We might even find the oars there – who knows?’
The girls turned and surveyed the castle once more. It looked a lot bigger from here, but still not too dangerous; not with the sun shining.
‘It’s on a little hill; I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before,’ Lucy said at last. ‘It’s well above the marsh now, but in winter, when the sea backs up, I’ve seen it surrounded by water more than once.’
‘Who owns it, I wonder?’ Caitlin said as they began to jump from tussock to tussock, carefully avoiding the brackish pools. ‘Your grandad’s beasts graze on the marsh but I don’t think he’s got anything to do with the castle, has he?’
‘Our cattle graze all over,’ Lucy pointed out. ‘But they’re not fools and it’s much wetter here than it is to either side because of the creek, I suppose.’
‘We’re almost there,’ Caitlin panted.
‘True,’ Lucy said. She reached the little hillock and hauled herself up on it, sitting down and breathing hard.
Caitlin came up out of the marsh dragging the bottle of lemon barley water. She sank onto the grass beside Lucy.
‘I wonder if this castle ever had a moat and if that’s why the marsh is marshier around it?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Lucy said. She found that she did not much want to go on sitting here, talking about the castle, with her back towards it, though. Just supposed there was someone . . . She turned and stared up at it. Close to, like this, what you noticed most was the dilapidation, the air of quiet but lengthy neglect. It must have been lived in once, but if so it was a long time ago.
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