Free The Mersey Girls by Katie Flynn

are you?’ Caitlin said incredulously. ‘Why
she
might suddenly appear and magic the sandwiches from our very hands so she might.’
    ‘She’ll have her work cut out to get a sandwich off me, I’m so hungry I could eat grass,’ Lucy said. ‘And if she tried I’d kick her straight back into the water . . . suppose it was mermaids? Suppose they swam up the creek and fancied the boat and pulled it into the water . . .’ But her tone lacked conviction; she had, after all, seen the footprint.
    ‘Or the sea-king, as big as the tower and lying on his belly to get up the creek, and opening his mouth and crunching the curragh down,’ Caitlin suggested cheerfully. ‘He probably t’ought it was a stranded whale.’
    ‘Small whale,’ Lucy pointed out through a mouthful of sandwich. Despite Caitlin’s strictures she had unwrapped the greaseproof to disclose ham sandwiches – her favourite – with Maeve’s own mustard pickle. ‘He could’ve thought it was a seal, or a walrus, I suppose.’
    ‘Oh, you!’ Caitlin sat down on the grass at the edge of the creek with her feet dangling over the beach and opened her own packet. ‘When we’ve eaten our dinners and drunk me mammy’s barley water we must be sure not to sleep, though. It doesn’t do to sleep in enchanted places.’
    ‘Whenever do we sleep except in our beds of a night?’ Lucy scoffed. ‘But I think you were right, we ought to explore the creek now we’re here. We can follow it up as far as it goes.’
    She did not want to say so to her friend, but she thought that if they went up the creek they might well come upon the curragh and whoever had taken it away. Because the view of the lough from here was a good one, and we’d have noticed a boat, I’m sure we would, she told herself, tucking into ham sandwiches. But if I say that to Caitlin she’ll go on about witches and the sea-king until I’m afraid to look round the next bend . . . better just pretend it’s to explore.
    ‘I wonder what the time is?’ Caitlin said presently, as they passed the lemon barley water from one to the other. They had decided to save the fruit cake for later.
    ‘Dunno; mid afternoon, I guess,’ Lucy said. ‘We’ve got plenty of time to explore the creek, especially if we go now.’
    ‘Right.’ Caitlin corked the empty bottle and put it into the blue cloth bag. ‘Off we go, then.’
    It was great exploring the creek. The sun continued to shine and when they got further inland, to where trees leaned over the water, they moved slowly and dreamily along in the dappled shade, watching their feet and legs made green by the ripples, scarcely talking at all save to draw each other’s attention to a fish, a particularly fine shell, an unusual wild flower on the bank.
    It took them longer than they had thought to reach the head of the creek and both girls were secretly glad to turn back; it had been a long day.
    ‘I’m starved,’ Caitlin said, pushing damp hair out of her eyes. ‘Let’s go back to the castle now and eat your Maeve’s fruit cake!’

    Oddly enough it did not take them very long to go down the creek, nowhere near as long as it had taken them in the opposite direction. But even so the sun was low in the sky when they reached the little beach, with the castle very black against the red-streaked heavens.
    The first thing they noticed was the curragh, of course. Drawn up precisely where they had seen it earlier, lying innocently upon the shingle.
    ‘I don’t believe it!’ Caitlin gasped. ‘Oh Lucy, it
is
a fairy boat – can you see any footprints now?’
    Lucy went over the beach with a fine-tooth comb, but this time could see no signs of human interference. She looked uneasily across at Caitlin who was standing on the grassy bank looking smug. ‘I don’t think there are any footprints this time,’ she admitted. ‘Suppose – suppose there
is
a witch up there, looking down at us?’
    ‘Do you not want to go back to the castle, then, fraidy