Free A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes Page B

it – so well it’s never been found. We just have to find out where.’
    Rhyllann didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Isn’t there a map or something?’
    Wren shook his head briefly. ‘I can hear a car. We’ll talk in school Monday. I’m gonna spend tomorrow in bed or resting my foot if I can.’ With that, he sprawled full length on the grass, cushioned his head on his arms, and closed his eyes.
     
    Rodgers had a key. Rhyllann smiled brightly as he puffed into the garden. Indicating the manicured lawn – Wren and Auntie Dottie apparently asleep – Rhyllann held a finger to his lips, while giving a thumbs up signal. Returning the greeting, Rodgers crept out again. Inside Rhyllann fumed. His word wasn’t good enough for old Crombie. Right. That meant he didn’t have to keep it.  

Chapter Ten
     
     
    To Rhyllann’s disbelief, when Wren whinged his foot was aching and he felt exhausted, he not only got out of Sunday’s chores, but Auntie Dottie allowed him to rest in her lovely comfy double bed. Rhyllann just knew Wren was faking it. But every time he crept upstairs to check, Wren was sprawled out, sleeping with a very happy expression on his face. Although he managed to wake up long enough to eat dinner and two helpings of chocolate trifle.
    Rhyllann wanted to visit Gran, but Aunt Dottie refused in spite of all his pleading.
    ‘You’ve spoken to the ward. She’s off the critical, still unconscious. I’m sorry lovey. Why don’t you do some more homework?’
    Rhyllann gave the thought serious consideration while washing up. For a moment or two anyway. Auntie Dottie kept to tradition, Sunday lunch was eaten and dishes stacked away by four.
    ‘There – that’s that!’ She said. ‘Hours to cook, eaten in minutes and all tidied away.’ She beamed at Rhyllann, still wiping down work surfaces.
     
    ‘Don’t worry about the floor lovey, Fred and Ginger’s about to start. Get yourself a glass of lemonade and we’ll put our feet up in the lounge.’
    Thinking shoot me now, Rhyllann dutifully obeyed. The one bright moment coming when he opened the fridge door to discover the home made stuff had mysteriously disappeared, and he was allowed a can of Sprite. Auntie Dottie didn’t protest when he swung his bare feet up to sprawl out on the sofa, easing herself into the armchair.
    It turned out Fred and Ginger were a Hollywood couple who sung and danced at the drop of an hat. All Rhyllann could hope for was that Aunt Dottie’s contagious yawns preceded her afternoon nap, and he’d be able to switch channels. Even that hope was dashed when someone rapped gently at the front door, followed by the sound of a yale key in the lock.
    ‘Who can that be?’ Auntie Dottie prised herself from the chair as Crombie entered the room.
    ‘Derek!’ She exclaimed smiling.
    ‘Thought I’d pop by and see how you were doing.’ Crombie nodded to include Rhyllann in his greeting.
    Aunt Dottie fussed around Crombie, scolding him for not calling – she would have set out an extra dinner plate – asking after Crombie's wife, then girls.
    ‘All fine thanks.’ Crombie seated himself in Aunt Dottie’s vacated armchair, picking up the remote as though he had full rights over the telly.
    ‘Anyone watching this? The Six Nations is on the other side.’ Without waiting for a response, Crombie changed channels.
    Rhyllann’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten! Wales were playing France. He tipped his head back over the sofa’s armrest to see how Aunt Dottie was taking the sudden change in schedule.
    ‘Oh you boys! I suppose they’re watching "The Eastenders" round your house?’
    Crombie merely grunted, and shrugged off his jacket.
    ‘You stay there, I’ll get you a beer.’ Aunt Dottie picked up the jacket and hurried out the room, returning with a couple of cans and after fussing round Crombie for at least another five minutes, took herself off upstairs to watch her film in a spare bedroom. Crombie kicked off his shoes to