Jamie and the Blue Stone

CHAPTER ONE

The Big House

T HE BIG HOUSE was amazing. With so many rooms to hide in, so many places where you could be alone and it was full of the most wondrous treasures, books, tools of all shapes and makes, old photographs and a gramophone with windy up handle, that played old 78s records. Little Jamie Dunne soon found himself totally engrossed in the new discoveries he made each day. Sometimes he would play the gramophone, opening the doors on the front of the cabinet to allow for more volume, letting the speed go wrong and thereby producing strange new sounds every time. When he was sure that no one was watching him—except maybe Badger, the family cat—he would dance to the music and the cat would stare at him with a rather bemused look on his black furry face. With eyes closed Jamie would move to the beat as he had seen his mother do so often before, stepping forward, backward, side stepping, turning in sharp swings, making shapes with his arms, feeling as free as the very air itself and when the record stopped he would rewind and go on again until he had exhausted himself. Then the tears would come. He would cry unashamedly and his little heart would hurt inside, for he would remember that terrible moment when he saw his mother for the last time before her mysterious disappearance. He remembered the awful panic that followed, the changes it brought to his life, and the day when he was taken from his father’s house and transported back to Ireland where he was placed in the care of his Irish grandparents, William and Margaret Dunne. Badger noticed these sad moods and his purring would demand the boy’s attention.

‘Some day I’ll tell you my big secret.’ he would whispered confidentially to the cat, whose tail swished in excitement as he brushed himself against the boy’s legs.

Jamie was a typical nine-year-old boy who, only a few months earlier, had been living with his mother and father in the exotic land of Egypt where they were working on some archeological digs. His world there was very different from the one he found himself living in now. The circumstances that brought about this dramatic change in his young life were both baffling and complicated. Though he had rebelled against the disruption in his hitherto regular existence, it had proven to be a waste of time. It wasn’t easy for him to adjust from the warmth of Egypt to the cooler Irish climate but within a few weeks of country food, wide-open spaces and clean fresh air, he had gently attuned.

He was happy to find that his grandparents did not live in a large town but in a big three-storey house in a rural area called Ducks Crossing just on the outskirts of the town of Craggy Mound. There was a freedom here that allowed him to wander, dream and fantasize. Being on his own didn’t worry him at all. He needed time to himself, time to get to know his grandparents, time to let go of some of the awful thoughts that flooded his mind. Even on rainy days he found that there was so much to do and see inside the big house. The simplistic fun of chasing Badger from room to room was one of his greater joys but when the cat decided one day that it didn’t want to be found it became a game of a very different sort. Jamie was convinced that he had cornered Badger in the back bedroom that day when the cat ran into the walk-in wardrobe. He had seen that with his own eyes but when he peered inside the wardrobe, it was empty, empty of anything other than the bare shelves and the white plastered walls. The little black cat was nowhere to be seen. That was impossible of course. There was no other way out. There were no cracks in the walls. So where had Badger gone?

Granddad Dunne, was a very clever man, it seemed that there was nothing in the world that he couldn’t talk about and at night he would take Jamie aside and tell him stories from the past, about the big house and how he and Nana Margaret came to live there.

‘This place has lots of secrets,’ Gramps said when Jamie told him how the cat had vanished that day and reappeared in the kitchen the very next morning. Gramps spoke in a low voice as if hoping the walls would not hear him, ‘nice secrets.’ he added.

‘But where did Badger go?’ the boy queried.

‘Maybe he was there all the time.’

‘But I couldn’t see him, Gramps.’

‘Of course not,’ the old man replied, ‘not if the cat didn’t want you to see him.’

‘But where was he?’

‘In a very secret place.’

‘Where?’

‘If I told you that it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it.’

The boy lowered his head and thought deeply for a moment. Gramps was right of course, a secret is only a secret when no one else knows it and he had one too, a big dark one that was bursting to be told but he couldn’t find the courage to say that out loud to anyone, not even to the cat.

Granddad William watched Jamie anxiously. The furrowed brow could not hide the truth from the old man but he made no attempt to rush the boy into talking until he was ready to.

His grandmother, Nana Dunne on first seeing the boy, had made it her duty to feed him with the best most nourishing food she could get.

‘The lad’s too thin,’ she said with dissatisfaction, ‘I’d be ashamed that anyone would think I didn’t feed him properly.’

And so began the daily routine of regular meals and special treats in between. Nothing was too good for the growing bag of bones whose skinny arms and legs soon took on a firmer, better shape. Granddad gave him some special chores to carry out, chores that involved using his muscles and building up his strength. For in his own cagey way he was making sure that the boy got the proper exercise as well as the proper food. Despite all these activities, however, there was always enough time left for the lad to enjoy private moments and he was grateful for this. Left to himself he would find a secluded area where he would sit alone with his thoughts. Though he soon realized that he was never ever quite alone as the cat would sit watching him from a short distance away. Jamie liked Badger and often talked to him like he would to a friend. He told Badger many of his private thoughts and plans but never his darker secret, the secret of his mother’s disappearance. No one would ever hear how that happened; no one would ever believe him anyway so it was best to keep it hidden.

Granddad’s favourite place was the small shed in the garden, where he worked away in peace and contentment on some new carpentry work of genius. His creative skills could turn a few pieces of wood into a work of art as he gently sanded, shaped and polished until he was satisfied, then, hey presto, there it would be: a table, a chair or just the most wondrous toy in the world! Nothing, it seemed, was too difficult for Gramps who took pride in the fact that his abilities as a handyman meant Nana never lacked for anything in the house.

‘You’re a God send,’ Nana would say with affection, ‘it’s just a pity you never tidy away your tools when you’re finished.’

‘I can’t be perfect, my love, you would have nothing to do.’ And he would sweep her up in his arms, knowing that she would struggle gently before chastising him.

‘Not in front of the child.’ she’d whisper shyly, then feigning irritation she would gently push him aside while trying to conceal her embarrassment.

CHAPTER TWO

The Famine Field

T HERE WAS AN old famine graveyard up the road. Jamie could see it from the top windows of the big house and a little cluster of trees standing in the middle of it often caught his eye. There was nothing unusual about this mini forest except for the fact that the formation happened to be circular. Nana explained to Jamie that in years gone by the old folk would tell you that it was a fairy fort, which must not be disturbed for fear of retribution from ‘the little people’ who lived there. But that was in the past and no one believed in fairies any more. Or did they? Anyway, the trees had survived down the years without interference. Was it that, deep down, the humans retained some belief in the little people? Or was it just that the area was preserved for its beauty? Either way, everyone respected it. No one felt any sense of fear on entering it and many locals had treasured memories of enjoying picnics held under the spreading branches of the now ancient giants of the forest. It was hallowed ground, if only because of its grandeur and age. The children of the estate enjoyed playing there and the ropes of homemade swings could be found hanging from many of the sturdy branches.

In the dark of night, however, Nana explained to her eager listener, when the moon shone through the leaves, the forest took on a different mantle. None dared to enter then for it was said that strange creatures were seen to move about. What did they look like? No one could describe them for no one had actually seen them. There were rumours of strange noises, the sounds of movement and sometimes laughter emanating from the dark interior of the little circle of trees. Some older people explained these sounds as the work of pranksters but some parents liked to tell their children stories of the little people that once lived there, and of how they would come out to dance by the light of the moon. All in all, the forest was part of the past and present though few ever bothered—or ventured—to go there at night.

Samantha, Sam for short, was pleased to find the place deserted, because in the darkness she could move about more swiftly and the branches gave shelter to a secret entrance at the base of the sacred tree. Quietly she slipped from under the foliage and made her way to the edge of the circle. There was no need for fumbling or fear of stumbling for Sam was from fairyland and super sharp night vision is one of a fairy’s special powers. Dressed in the earthy brown uniform of the Defense Against Discovery army—referred to as DAD—she scanned the open field, her small pointed ears swiveling to catch every sound on the air. In the farthest end of the field she detected the movement of an animal, a cat perhaps on night prowl, or even a rat scurrying through the hedgerow. She waited in silence attuning her senses to the strange world she had entered from the secret tree city. She was on a mission. Her duties had to be carried out before the break of day or she would risk detection and for a fairy detection was very dangerous. However she had taken all the necessary precautions and had brought with her a small bag of fairy dust so that should she fail to make it back to the forest in time, the dust would give her invisibility for a while. The night air was cold, colder than she had expected and the mist was wet, wetter than she had expected. But she could not turn back. Pulling the little hood over her head, she drew down the special face piece that would give her more protection. This is only meant to be used if caught in sunlight for fairy eyes are sensitive to light due to their strong night vision but no one told her how bitter the night air could be and she could not afford to catch a cold or sneeze, for that would give her presence away in the human world.

Crouching under an elm tree she paused to figure out her situation. It was then she heard it, the most awful guttural growl ever, a low warning that struck terror in her little heart. She took out her zapper gun and carefully released the safety catch. This was a special gun with five settings: one to sting, two stun, three knock over, four knock out and five, liquefaction. It was automatically set to number one and she hoped this would be strong enough to enable her to escape danger. The clicking of the safety catch seemed to echo like thunder in the silence of the night. The growling continued, even increasing in intensity, and to her horror Sam realised that it was coming from directly above her, from somewhere in the branches of the elm tree. Throwing herself to the ground with all possible speed and at the same time rolling over on her back, she turned directly to the leaves of the tree above and fired. The flash of the lightning bolt blinded her temporarily but she heard something shriek with pain and then a great trashing of leaves. Darting to her feet she made for the protection of the nearest bush. There was a loud crash as a creature of some sort landed on the forest floor in front of her. She watched the stubby hands and feet toss about in pain and almost felt sorry for the creature. Cautiously with gun at the ready, she moved closer and was shocked then to hear it curse and swear in the most awful way.

‘What the !**! Blood and guts,’ it called out; vigorously rubbing the seat of its pants as if it was on fire.

Sam was aghast. Before her stood a leprechaun, dressed in green suit and dark green shirt. The whiskers on his face were tied down with a green bow and his oversized pointed ears flapped wildly as he danced about, the long narrow peacock feather in his felt hat flicking from side to side like a metronome.

‘Who did that?’ He called out, grabbing the hat from his head to dust himself down. ‘There I was, fast asleep, minding me own business… ‘

‘You were growling.’ ventured Sam

‘I was snoring,’ yelled the leprechaun aggrieved with pain. ‘One minute I’m in dreamland, next minute I’m… . I don’t know which is worse, the stinging in me behind or the thumping in me head.’

Sam put away the gun as she respectfully approached her stricken victim.

‘I am so sorry,’ She explained, ‘your snoring scared me. This is my first real job on the outside and it’s all so new and frightening.’

The leprechaun growled under his breath and stamped his stubbly little feet as he moved about, trying to ease the stinging sensation in his lower half.

‘You fairies are all the same’, he said, ‘too quick to make assumptions.’

‘We are not,’ Sam replied swiftly, ‘we are peaceful and loving by nature, unlike you Leprechauns.’

‘And who was it put the spell on the trees of the forest? Eh! Who was it? The fairies. Now if we wander into a fairy fort we can’t find our way back out.’

‘We have to protect our homes and besides it’s only in selected areas.’

‘My foot, the trees belong to everyone.’

‘So does the gold but you lot took it all,’ retorted Sam feeling very intimidated.

The leprechaun paused before replying.

‘Humans don’t know how to use the gold, they see it only as a means of power.’ he answered.

Sam turned swiftly to face the little man.

‘You use it as a power,’ she said accusingly.

‘No,’ he yelled, ‘We don’t use gold as a power, we use the power of the gold, that’s different.’

Sam was not impressed with his interpretation of the matter

‘Is it not true that each of you has a crock of gold hidden in the ground?’

The leprechaun looked startled. His little eyes squinted, as he studied the fairy. The expression on his face was one of uncertainty.

‘Who told you that?’ He asked, lowering his voice as if not wishing the forest to hear.

‘Do I look stupid or something?’ shrieked Sam, ‘everyone knows that.’

‘They do?’ The leprechaun said now growing quite frightened, ‘even the humans?’

‘Of course.’

He sank to the ground slowly as if drained of all energy, stubby little hands pulling on the bow securing his whiskers; his eyes open in disbelief and shock.

‘The folk don’t know that,’ he said, as if speaking to himself.

Then he slowly raised his little stubby