Billy knew that was nonsense. He wasn’t sure how far away the sea was from the Folly River, but he remembered it took the bus ages and ages to get to the seaside. His Mum had always told him to be polite to old people, so he didn’t want to argue. Instead he chewed on his lip and picked dirt from under his fingernails.
“Where’s your house?” he asked.
“Oh, just down the river a wee bit,” she said. “The Old Mill.”
Billy stopped picking at his fingernails. “No one lives there. It’s got no roof or doors or anything.”
“Is that right?” She laughed and slapped her thigh, the sound muted by the layers of skirt. “And how do you know that?”
Billy went back to picking at his nails.
“Have you been there?” she asked.
He scuffed at the light brown earth with his worn plimsolls.
“Does your mummy let you play there?”
Billy raised his eyes to meet hers and shook his head.
“I bet she doesn’t.” Her smile dripped away. “Did you go on a dare?”
“Yeah,” Billy said.
“And did you get scared?”
Billy shrugged.
Her smile returned. “Did you cry?”
Billy’s cheeks grew hot. Sweat licked at his forehead and made the thin cotton of his T-shirt stick to his back. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his forearm.
“No need to be ashamed, love. Sure, everyone gets scared.” She pointed over Billy’s shoulder. “Even Michael there, and he’s a big boy.”
Billy spun on his heels to see a boy, about twelve, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. “Hello,” Michael said.
He wore strange clothes, like the olden days photos Billy’s grandad kept in a big book. A plain jacket and short trousers, with a collarless shirt. “What are you staring at?” he asked.
“Be civil, Michael,” the old lady called from across the stream. “This wee man needs someone to play with.”
“He’s too young to play with me,” Michael said, scowling.
“Michael’s a bold boy,” the old lady said. Billy turned back to her, and his tummy fluttered up to his throat. Another boy sat next to her, and a girl just behind, peeking over her shoulder. “Never did learn his manners,” she said. “Not like wee Kevin here.”
Kevin looked about Billy’s age, but his clothes were different. Not like Michael’s, but still strange. Still somehow . . . wrong. Billy couldn’t think why.
“Hello,” Kevin said. He lifted his small hand and waved.
Billy waved back.
“You can play with me,” Kevin said. He smiled.
Billy smiled back.
The little girl peered over the old lady’s shoulder, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. “What games do you know?” she asked.
Billy hesitated for a moment before counting on his fingers. “Ring-a-ring-a-rosies, hide and seek, tig—”
“I like tig.” She stepped out from behind the old lady. Her clothes looked normal, not olden days clothes, and Billy knew her face.
He thought hard about it for a few seconds before he remembered where from. The image formed in his mind. Mum at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, crying. Was it last summer or the one before? Billy had climbed up into her lap and looked at the newspaper while Mum wrapped her arms around him. Her cheek was warm and damp against his neck. She smelled of apples.
There was a picture of a little girl in the newspaper. Billy traced the headline with his finger, saying the words out loud. He didn’t get very far before he had to ask his Mum what some of them said.
“Community,” she said.
“Shocked,” she said.
“Disappearance,” she said.
The girl walked to the water’s edge and put her hands on her hips. “Who’ll be It?”
Michael sprung to his feet. “Me!”
The old lady laughed. “So, you’re not too big to play after all?”
Michael grinned.
Billy’s heart drummed in his chest. He looked back up the bank to where the trees heaved and whispered. The houses of Ballinahone stood just beyond them, and Orangefield, where he lived, just beyond that. Mum would have lunch ready soon. Jam sandwiches. Playschool would be on TV, and cartoons a bit later. Scooby-Doo. He never missed Scooby-Doo.
But he could play Tig for a little while. Mum might be cross if he was late for lunch, but he’d say sorry, and she’d give him his jam sandwiches anyway.
Michael crouched, his hands forming claws, bearing his teeth. “Ready or not,” he said.
A dizzy giggle escaped from Billy’s stomach. “Wait,” he said, and hopped across the river, using the stepping stones. When he got to the other side, another boy and girl were waiting. They looked like brother and sister, and wore clothes like Michael’s. But Billy had stopped caring about clothes, and tingled with the excitement of the coming chase.
The old lady hunkered down so Billy could see the red lines around her green irises, criss-crossed and snaking through the yellow. She brought her hand to his cheek and her skin felt like paper.
“Better run,” she said.
An animal howl came from the other side of the stream, and the children squealed as Michael took it in one leap. They scattered into the trees and Billy bolted after them. He heard Michael’s ragged laughter behind him and churned his arms and legs, ignoring the whipping of branches.
“I’m going to get you!”
Billy chanced one look over his shoulder and saw Michael’s teeth bared, his tongue lolling. Spit slopped from the corners of his mouth. Billy laughed and ducked to the left between two trees whose branches intertwined to form a low tunnel. He had to keep his head down, his knees bent, to fight his way through. Branches crunched behind him and Billy heard Michael swear as he got tangled up in leaves and twigs.
Billy burst out onto an open path, one he didn’t recognise, and broke into a sprint through the clear air. Laughter bubbling in his chest, the breeze on his cheeks.
He didn’t know how far he’d run before he had to stop. His chest heaved, making him bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing deep until the dizziness passed. His thighs quivered with spent energy, his nerves jangling in the same way they did when he went on the Cyclone ride at Barry’s Amusements in Portrush.
Billy listened.
Quiet all around, not even the chirp of a bird. He turned in a circle. There, off in the distance, he could see the rooftops of Ballinahone and Orangefield. Miles away, it seemed. How could it be so far? The Folly wasn’t that big.