Free The Shiver Stone by Sharon Tregenza Page A

before I realised what he was going to do, started chipping at the Shiver Stone.
    â€˜Stop it!’ I said.
    He ignored me. ‘Just want a piece for my collection. It’s a type of rock called spotted dolerite, an igneous rock like basalt. It comes from the Preselis near Fishguard.’
    â€˜Stop it. When a tourist tried to chip off a bit of the Shiver Stone he found all his tires were flat when he got back to the car park. He had to call out the RAC,’ I said.
    â€˜I haven’t got a car,’ Jago murmured. Chip, chip, chip.
    â€˜When a local kid spat on it, he fell off his bike and broke his ankle a week later.’ I was getting angry.
    â€˜Don’t spit and haven’t got a bike,’ Jago said. Chip, chip, chip.
    â€˜STOP!’ Without thinking, I punched his arm. The hammer flew out of his hand and crashed into a nearby bush. ‘Don’t hurt it!’ I screamed, close to tears.
    Jago stared at me in amazement. ‘If it means that much to you, you should have said,’ he muttered.
    While he rummaged through the leaves looking for his hammer, I closed my eyes, put both hands on the Shiver Stone, and whispered that I was sorry.
    Jago sulked for a while, but I pretended to be interested in his geology stuff and he soon came around.
    Tia was getting hot and tired again, so I carried her as we headed back home.
    â€˜Funny we keep bumping into that woman,’ Jago said.
    â€˜Hmm. I’ll tell you something funny. She’s no birdwatcher.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    â€˜Those lesser-spotted seadrakes she said she’d seen?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜No such bird. I made it up.’
    I was hoping Dad would be in bed by the time we got back; he’d been fishing all night, so he should be tired. He was fast asleep – the flat quiet except for his snoring. I made sandwiches for us, and chopped up the rest of the tinned ham for Tia.
    I’d done some thinking on our way back home and, as we tucked into our cheese and pickle, I said, ‘What if your dad has been kidnapped?’
    Jago almost choked. ‘Kidnapped? Why would you think he’s been kidnapped? You saw him run off.’
    â€˜Yeah, but there’s a lot of odd stuff going on. Maybe there’s a secret society after him. Remember the tattoo? Your dad has the same tattoo as that Kemble Sykes.’
    I jumped up. ‘ Vulpes Vulpes – we can Google it. I’m not allowed to use my laptop but you can.’ I was excited. ‘We should have done this before. That tattoo could be a clue.’
    â€˜A clue to what?’
    â€˜I don’t know, just a clue.’
    Jago typed ‘ Vulpes Vulpes ’.
    â€˜It means Red Fox.’
    â€˜What else?’
    He scrolled up and down, opened more sites. ‘That’s it, Red Fox.’
    â€˜Try some more.’
    Jago tapped the computer screen. There were 1,430,000 results for ‘ Vulpes Vulpes ’.
    â€˜We can’t search through all those,’ he said
    It was disappointing. ‘Ask your mum about the tattoo, then. She should know.’
    â€˜Yes. She’s coming out of hospital today, so we’ll move into the caravan.’
    I could still hear my dad snoring in the bedroom, so when the phone rang, I ran to pick it up before it woke him. I almost tripped over Tia. By the time I’d got my balance back, the phone had stopped ringing. I could hear Dad talking. He came out of his room looking like he was still half asleep. He had his old blue dressing gown over his pyjamas and his hair was sticking up.
    I looked at him to see if he was smiling, hoping everything was okay with us again. He wasn’t smiling.
    â€˜You’re on a real roll, aren’t you, Carys? That was Jim from the housing association. Mrs Jenkins has been on the phone to them, complaining that we have a dog in the flat. She also says she wouldn’t have said anything except that you were very rude when she spoke