Free The Mersey Girls by Katie Flynn Page A

cat?’
    ‘We-ell . . .’
    ‘We won’t if you’d rather not,’ Caitlin said, suddenly all concern. ‘It’s been quite a long day . . . we can go straight home across the marsh if you’d rather.’
    But past experience told Lucy that if she agreed to go straight home, Caitlin would never let her forget it, so she shook her head until her sun-bleached curls bounced on her shoulders.
    ‘No, we’ll go back to the castle. Come on, because I want to be home before dark.’
    They set off at once, though their leaps from tuft to tuft certainly lacked the enthusiasm of earlier in the day, and reached the castle breathless but on Lucy’s part, at least, determined to scotch any idea that she was afraid.
    ‘Come on then, let’s take a look round,’ she said. ‘Are you coming up to the roof this time?’
    It was a below-the-belt remark and Caitlin didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she said, ‘Tell you what; let’s hide in the secret room and watch through the window-slits, see if anything out there moves.’
    It was, Lucy decided, a good idea. Agreeing, she dumped her blue bag on the ground outside the keep entrance and the two of them went in, far more cautiously this time. Even if Caitlin pretended to believe that a witch or a leprechaun had moved the curragh, she must realise, as Lucy did, that it was far likelier to have been moved by human intervention and, since the boat was now back on its beach, that must surely mean that someone was lurking in or around the castle?
    So up the horrible steps they toiled, neither keen if the truth were known, Lucy decided, but both determined not to be the one who said so.
    They reached the top of the stair and the blandly empty little room met their gaze. Was the hay more rumpled, as though a body had been lying on it? She didn’t really think so, but put the question anyway. Caitlin sniffed.
    ‘Course not, it’s just the same. You go to that slit and I’ll keep guard on this one.’
    ‘It’ll be sunset soon,’ Lucy said when they’d been watching – and mildly squabbling – for what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes. ‘We’ve got a good walk, Cait. And we’ve not eaten the fruit cake yet.’
    ‘Oh well, if you’re fed up . . . no, don’t start, I’m fed up, too,’ Caitlin said at once. ‘You go down first, though . . . I really hate those stairs.’
    ‘Oh . . . perhaps I should’ve gone up to the top of the tower, in case there was someone hiding there,’ Lucy said belatedly, halfway down the stone steps. She was descending with her eyes shut and one hand clutching grimly at the stone wall. ‘Don’t you fall on me, Caitlin Kelly, or you’ll kill the both of us for sure.’
    But no one fell on anyone and within six feet of the ground Lucy opened her eyes and found that she wasn’t quite so scared this time. She finished the steps at a gallop, just to prove it, and then turned and told Caitlin to jump, holding out her arms to catch her.
    ‘No, I’m too heavy for you,’ Caitlin said. ‘Get out of the way, I’m coming down like a ton of bricks!’
    She hurtled down the last few steps, cannoned into Lucy, and the pair of them, winded and giggling, rolled around on the floor, clutching their stomachs, until they could breathe properly again.
    ‘Come on, then,’ Caitlin said, struggling to her feet. ‘Let’s have that cake.’
    They galloped good-naturedly out of the castle and Caitlin grabbed the blue bag and swung it at Lucy, who promptly tried to wrestle it away from her. They fought amicably over the bag for five minutes, then there was an ominous tearing noise.
    ‘It’s all right, it’s only a bit of stitching,’ Lucy said, having anxiously examined the bag. ‘Phew, and isn’t that a relief? Maeve wouldn’t have taken kindly to another bag going west. My satchel sprang a hole when I tossed it across the floor as I got back from school yesterday afternoon.’
    ‘I’ll mend it for you,’ Caitlin said. She was good with