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 theview 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 meanskeletons!” 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.”
