Hollow Earth by John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman Read Free Book Online

pedestrians to gather safely for the ferry. When Matt made his way back to his mum and Em with the ice creams, he wanted to avoid walking directly through a family with toddlers, bikes and prams so he cut into the queuing traffic waiting to board the ferry – at the same moment that the crew lifted the ferry’s security arm and waved the traffic on board.
    Matt’s move forced a delivery driver to hit his brakes and stall his lorry, allowing a Peugeot and a Mini Cooper to cut in front of him. The lorry driver was not happy. He leaned on his horn for so long, Matt thought it had stuck.
    Matt handed the ice creams over. Clutching their dripping cones, the three of them climbed to the top deck of the ferry and found an open spot with a clear view of the crossing. Auchinmurn Isle stretched before them.
    ‘Do people other than our grandfather live on this island?’ asked Em.
    ‘Oh, yes. And it gets lots of visitors in the summer. This side of the island is mostly biking and hiking trails, lots of them with amazing animal and bird habitats.’ Sandie felt like an estate agent selling her children on the attributes of what she hoped would be their home for a long time. She didn’t want them to know that this island was also to become their prison.
    ‘One paved road runs the perimeter of the island and one cuts across its middle,’ she continued, as the ferry lifted its ramp like a giant jaw clamping shut. ‘There’s a lovely little town – Seaport – directly on the other side from the Abbey. But the coolest thing about the island is that it has a sister, a smaller island that actually belongs to your grandfather, and is full of all kinds of secret caves and ancient ruins.’
    ‘What’s the small island called?’ asked Em.
    ‘Locals call it “wee Auchinmurn”, but its real name is Era Mina, after the Abbey and the monastery that used to be spread across both islands.’ Sandie pointed to a jut of land that peeked from behind the southern tip of Auchinmurn, an ancient Celtic tower visible on the horizon. ‘Your grandfather’s place is on the far side of Auchinmurn, facing Era Mina.’
    Matt and Em looked nervous and not nearly as excited as Sandie had hoped. Still, the circumstances were far from ideal for a homecoming.
    Seconds after the ferry lurched from the dock, the irate lorry driver marched towards them. ‘That wean needs a good smacking, he does,’ he yelled at Sandie, jabbing his fingers angrily in the air above Matt’s head. ‘Now ’cos of him ah’m stuck at the back of this tug. Ye should keep a better eye on yer weans!’ Then he stomped off down to the parking deck.
    A well-dressed elderly woman, with a briefcase at her feet and blue chiffon scarf protecting her hair from the sea spray, stepped away from the rail and came over to Matt. ‘Ne’er mind him, son,’ she said kindly. ‘Some folks are born rude. Al Swanson’s one of them. He’s a miserable fella.’
    A few other locals seated in the foredeck nodded in agreement. Matt shifted from his mum’s side to an empty bench.
    Em, who was looking over the side at the churning water, squealed in delight. ‘Mum, look – jellyfish! Hundreds and hundreds of them. They’re following the boat!’
    Sandie looked. The water was thick with translucent pink bell-like creatures of varying sizes, some as big as footballs, others as small as a baby’s fist, trailing the wake of the ferry.
    The lady in the chiffon scarf peered over the deck next to Em. ‘We call them moon jellies, dear. When the light of a full moon hits them, it’s like the stars have fallen into the sea. It’s quite a sight. But they’re not really following the ship. The ferry’s creating a current that’s dragging them along.’
    Sandie took a quick look at Matt behind her. He was slumped over his backpack. She tried to stifle her irritation. Was he drawing? He looked like he might be. But since Em was thoroughly engaged with the jellyfish, she decided to let him be.
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