Chapter 6
After everyone has showered—an operation that was as fraught and frenzied as I predicted—Theo and I show the kids around the house.
Their responses are just as predictable: Archie skips around, spotting corners and crannies where he can play with his figures and asking questions neither Theo nor I can answer; Mabel finds fault with everything, pointing out potential perils and expressing fear for her safety; and Callum just grunts and groans, refusing to engage.
Theo and I exchange a look of camaraderie and lead them outside.
“Who’s ready for the next adventure?” Theo bellows.
“Me!” squeaks Archie, leaping in the air and giving a twist.
He’s dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a long-sleeved baseball top, which Theo chose for him so he wouldn’t get scratched by brambles.
Mabel was happy to follow her dad’s brief and is wearing jeans, a long-sleeved raglan top and her scruffiest trainers.
Callum, however, insisted on wearing gleaming white trainers that’ll be dirty in minutes, shorts, and his cherished Manchester City away shirt that has short sleeves.
Theo was about to tell him to get changed, till I took him to one side and said Callum might be self-conscious about how much he sweats.
So he let him off and saved himself for the battle over hats and suncream.
That turns out to be epic. Thankfully, Theo wins.
He and I put on our sunglasses and matching Panama hats.
“Right,” says Theo, “we’re all ready. Ads, show us round your estate!”
I stiffen slightly, remembering Kate’s comment about me being rich. “It’s funny you should say that,” I chirp. “Where I grew up, estate had a whole different meaning.”
Theo laughs but the kids don’t even register my comment.
“Come on!”
I start the tour by showing them the vast space above the garage, which is accessed from the lawn by climbing a short wooden ladder. As I lift my sunglasses and push open the door, I ask, “So what do you think this is?”
“A dungeon!” squeaks Archie.
“That’s a good guess,” commends Theo. He points out the sections of walls that have been tiled diagonally, to create ventilation gaps.
“It was probs to dry out grain or something,” says Mabel.
“That’s an outstanding guess,” says Theo.
Callum flashes her a look from underneath his bucket hat. She rearranges her features into an expression of boredom.
“The truth is we’ve no idea what it is,” I cheep. “But if you look at this and the garage downstairs, I reckon it’s as big as your dad’s flat in Manchester.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have left our house,” snarls Callum.
I look at Theo’s wounded expression and feel a surge of anger: I can’t believe Callum would seriously want his dad to sacrifice his own happiness to stay with them. Then I remember he’s still a child. Of course that’s what he wants. That’s what I wanted from my dad.
I lower my sunglasses and jump down onto the grass. “Come on, let’s go round the back of the house.”
I guide everyone past ivy crawling up the trunks of dead trees and over dried grass and twigs that crunch and crack under our feet.
Tacked onto the back and sides of the house are several stone sheds or outhouses, which are stuffed full of old wood, rusty barrels and farm machinery, and chipped plant pots.
There’s also a pizza oven, but its tiled roof has collapsed inwards.
“What happened to that?” asks Archie.
“I haven’t a clue,” I answer. “But the builders are going to fix it so we can make our own pizzas!”
“Yes!” he says, punching the air.
I turn to Callum and Mabel. “Do you two fancy making pizzas?”
Callum shrugs.
“Whatever,” says Mabel, suddenly fascinated by the ends of her hair.
Unsurprisingly, the kids show little interest in the chapel.
“It’s just a wall,” mutters Callum.
“Actually, you can still make out Saint Bartholomew,” protests Theo, pointing at the mural.
“Religion’s proper boring,” comments Callum, licking his finger and wiping a bit of dirt off his trainer.
I become aware of how hot it is and feel the sweat beading on my brow.
I lead everyone up to the olive grove and, just a few meters along the gravel driveway, we spot a pile of empty gun cartridges. Archie is fascinated.
“Whose are they?” asks Callum, nudging them with his toe.
“I don’t know,” I say, “maybe the neighbors’. I’ll ask Stefano. Maybe people are allowed to hunt wild boar.”
Mabel looks panicked. “Wait a minute, are we going to get shot?”
“No, Mabel, we’re not going to get shot,” Theo assures her. “But if you’re worried you could always moan a bit louder; then the hunters know we’re coming.”
She shoots him a vinegary smile. “Very funny, Dad. But what if the pigs attack us?”
“They won’t, Mabel.” Theo breaks into a playful grin. “The hunters will shoot them first.”
I can’t help chuckling, but Mabel stomps off, up the path.
When we reach the olive grove, I pause to take in the view. The trees are spaced out pretty evenly over the lumps and bumps of the hillside, their trunks knotted and knobbly, their leaves somewhere between green and gray.
“Adam,” Archie says, squinting as he looks up at me, “how many trees are there?”
“Don’t tell us,” interrupts Callum, his tone mocking, “you don’t know.”
Theo folds his arms. “Give it a rest, Cal. Hey, squirt, why don’t you help us by counting them?”
While Archie’s doing that, I step under the shade of a tree.
The sun feels hotter here and more brutal.
The trees look parched and the grass between them is burnt the color of golden sand.
I pull a branch towards me and examine one of the black olives.
The harvest must be some way off as it’s still only very small.
“Olives are gross,” pronounces Mabel.
“Proper minging,” agrees Callum.
“Fifty-three!” Archie shouts out. “There are fifty-three trees!”
“Superb work!” says Theo, pulling down the peak of Archie’s cap.
Thinking we’ve probably exhausted all interest in the olive grove, I decide to take them to the castle. I’ve deliberately saved the best till last. But, as we’re walking down the driveway, the kids start moaning about the heat.
“Just a minute,” I say, “I’m pretty sure it’s hotter than this in Atlanta.”
“Yeah, but Auntie Shona has a pool!” Mabel fires back.
“Why don’t you have a pool?” asks Archie.
I frown. “I don’t think my Uncle Wilf had any money.”
“You could put one in,” suggests Mabel, as if the solution’s obvious.
I lift my hat to wipe my brow. “But I can’t afford it.”
She snorts. “As if! You’ve got loads of money!”
“I don’t know what gave you that impression.”
“Mum—”
Callum elbows her and she stops herself. My mosquito bites are really itching.
We reach the bottom of the driveway and come to a stop.
“Now, when you were all looking down at those empty shells, you missed the best thing about this place.” I turn and gesture up the hill. “The castle!”
Everyone looks.
Archie’s eyes bulge. “Whoa! Is it real?”
“It is, squirt, yeah.” Theo points out some gaps in the walls, through which soldiers would have fired their arrows.
Archie can hardly stand still. “Can we go and look?”
“Yeah!”
I steer everyone round to the bottom of the path.
It’s decided I’ll lead, with Mabel following, Callum in the middle, then Archie, with Theo following him in case he trips or slips.
The scramble is even more difficult than when Theo and I first did it, because of the extra overgrowth.
There’s a tense moment when Mabel gets a bramble caught in her hair.
I take a few steps back to help her but she stiffens.
Then, realizing there’s no one else close enough, she relents and lets me untangle it.
“Thanks,” she hisses, clearly furious—although whether that’s at me or herself, I don’t know.
Once we’ve reached the top, we dust our hands and inspect the damage to our clothes. Callum’s legs and arms are dotted with blood, his white trainers coated in dirt, and his football shirt plucked several times.
“This top is proper ruined!” he yowls. “And look at my creps!”
I want to shout, “Your dad did warn you not to wear your nice trainers!” But he seems genuinely upset—and there’s something about his expression that reminds me of Theo: Theo when he’s hurting.
“I did try to explain, Cal,” Theo says, gently. “Maybe next time try and listen to your boring old dad.”
How he manages to be so patient is beyond me.
Speaking of patience, Archie has none whatsoever. He’s already slid through the overgrowth and is in the clearing, bouncing up and down the various levels.
“I’m the king of the castle!” he sings. “You’re the dirty rascal!” He points at Mabel and wiggles his bum.
“Yeah, very mature, Archie.”
“Isn’t this amazing?” says Theo, opening his arms. “Can you believe it’s a thousand years old?”
As I look at the stone walls, a tingle runs up my spine. This place is every bit as magical as the first time I saw it.
“And look how high up we are,” Theo goes on, admiring the view from a gap between two trees. “It’s like we’re on top of the world!”
Archie looks up and starts spinning around. But he spins a little too close to the edge and Theo swoops in and lifts him up. “OK, squirt, let’s not do that here.”
Callum and Mabel walk around the clearing, poking at the earth for holes, pressing on walls, and lifting up stones—while doing their best to look disinterested.
“What do you think, gang?” Theo rests Archie on his hip: he’s only small and still—just about—light enough to carry.
“There’s not much left,” Mabel mumbles.
“Yeah, it’s just a load of rubble,” says Callum.
“Who lived here?” gabbles Archie. “Was it a king or a knight?”
Rather than revealing this is something else I don’t know, I say, “Hopefully we’ll find out soon. Some people are coming tomorrow to start digging for clues. And who knows what they’ll find?”
“Skellingtons!” bursts out Archie, his face blazing with excitement.
“You mean skeletons!” Theo corrects him. He helps Archie repeat the word till he gets it right.
“Until then you’re going to have to use your imaginations,” I say.
I lower myself onto the wall and imagine all the stories that have unfolded in the castle. I imagine people running around it hundreds of years ago, engrossed in their own dramas, their own passions, their own love stories—people just like us, fighting for their own dreams and ambitions.
Mabel scoffs. “Or we could just Google it.”
I feel a clang of doom. Theo’s been dodging the subject of Wi-Fi all day, keeping the kids busy, their minds on other things.
I make one last attempt. “I’ve tried that—no joy, I’m afraid.”
But Callum isn’t distracted. “You still haven’t given us the Wi-Fi password.”
Theo lowers Archie to the ground and draws in a breath. Suddenly, my mosquito bites itch more than ever.
“Cal, there is no Wi-Fi,” Theo says. “Not yet, anyway.”
Callum splutters, “W-what do you mean?”
I jump in. “We are getting it installed but the earliest they can come is mid-August.”
Callum lets out a moan that sounds like it’s coming from a wild animal caught in a trap.
Mabel rushes to his side. “What, so we’re cut off for three weeks?”
Theo rubs the back of his neck. “We’re not cut off. We’ve got mobile reception: you can always use my phone.”
“And mine,” I trill. “I’ve got loads of free minutes!”
Mabel sneers. “As if. Nobody speaks on the phone anymore. I need Wi-Fi for my Snapchat.”
“And what about my gaming?” growls Callum. “I’ve brought my Switch so I can play FIFA.”
Theo gives them a sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to wait.”
Mabel shakes her head. “I am devo!”
Callum throws his hands in the air. “This is proper shit!”
“Callum,” Theo booms, “don’t swear in front of Archie!”
Mabel bursts into tears. “Dad, you ruin our lives and all you can think about is swearing?”
“You lied to us!” Callum shouts at Theo.
“Just like you always lie to us!” wails Mabel.
Theo rears back, as if he’s been shot.
I wish they hadn’t said that.
An injured, tense silence sets in.
I feel a wave of tiredness and remember how little sleep I’ve had. I can’t resist any longer: I crouch down and start scratching my bites.
I need to go back to the house and put some cream on. Besides, there’s no point staying here. The magic has been shattered.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go back down.”