Linus & The Leprechauns

By Maria Thermann

"How-de-do," whispered Linus as politely as he could, trying hard not to stare.

 

Swaying dangerously now under the weight of his two colleagues, the First Minister Gobbledygook winked at him. "Top of the mornin' to you, young sir; bet you've never seen the likes of us, have ye, now?"

 

Linus shook his head silently, never taking his eyes of the whiskered individual closest to his face. That walking stick looked quite capable of poking a human eye out! "What, if I may ask, are you?" Linus felt it was rather difficult holding a polite conversation entirely in whispers. "Are you also noble members of the House of O'Malley?"

 

"Of course not!" Skinflint said indignantly, his cheeks turning a little pink beneath his white mutton chops.

 

"Then what exactly are you, if not O'Malley's from Lincolnshire? Gnomes? Pixies?"

 

"I'll give ye a clue. We're Oirish." Minister Gobbledygook chuckled into his bushy red beard. "As Oirish as rainbows, harps and soda bread." Giggling made him bob his arms slightly up and down, causing an upwards tremor that threatened to undo their pyramid at any moment.

 

***

 

It's not everyday you go for a stroll to explore a new neighbourhood and find yourself nose-to-nose with a leprechaun! But this is what happens to shy 9-year-old Linus Brown, when he follows the advice of a mysterious scarecrow and takes a road less well travelled.

 

Before long, Linus finds himself at the centre of The Great Leprechaun War, coming face to fist with the school bully and his horrible Uncle Herb. These two polluters could wipe out the world's last remaining leprechaun colony with the poison they dump into Farmer O'Malley's woodland pond. Can Linus safe the leprechauns from Thunderpants the Destroyer and make a friend of brave Princess Hermione in the process?

 

Linus faces impossible odds. The school bully's built like a tank and it's Thunderpants-a-go! when Uncle Herb's around. Expect plenty of farting jokes, sneaky witches with their own agenda and far more leprechauns than could possibly fit into a single pot of gold.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Dec 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9783739616209

Book preview

Chapter 1

The End. Aunt Abigail snapped shut Lord Balderdash and Fran the Brave.

WHAT? Linus sat up straight in his bed and blinked. That's not how the book ends!

Yes, it is.

Linus shook his tousled brown head. Is not! Lord Balderdash defeats the forces of the Goblin King and there's a happy ending of sorts. Granddad read this to me lots of times! Lord Balderdash's and Fran the Brave's journey is the most famous in children's literature, Granddad said. Nobody has as many adventures as they do. Fran destroys the magic sword at the end and Lord Balderdash doesn't die! Because Fran gives him the magic potion he stole from the Goblin King!

Aunt Abigail snorted. If you say so. Seems a silly ending to me. What was it all for, if you give up that powerful sword in the end? And that Goblin King was a bully right from the start. Fran should have seen through him much sooner. If you don't stand up to bullies, you become invisible. That's what happens to chicken-hearts in the end. They become invisible.

That doesn't sound so bad, Linus said, but so quietly, the rattling of the window shutters drowned out his voice. Or so he thought. Apparently, visiting aunts had bat hearing.

Aunt Abigail scratched her nose absentmindedly with the tip of the spoon she'd used earlier for Linus's disgusting cough medicine. How can anyone invisible have real adventures? she said. You can't make new friends, when nobody can see you. Besides, you need to leave home once in a while to have adventures.

Linus merely shrugged his shoulders and sank back under his blankets. Ignoring her nephew's obvious discomfort, she put the book on the bedside table and rested one hand on Linus's damp forehead. She frowned. That fever of yours seems to have gone down a bit. How about a hot drink before you go to sleep?

Outside the wind howled around the corners of the house, rain drummed against the windows. Linus wriggled to be more comfortable under the layers of blankets his aunt had piled on top of him earlier that afternoon. A hot drink sounded just fine. He was beginning to feel quite sleepy. Hah, Fran the Brave! Linus had quite forgotten how much he'd enjoyed the book when he was little, when his granddad had read to him at bedtime. Aunt Abigail got up to leave for the kitchen. Linus muffled a snort with his blankets. Her tall, thin body threw a strange shadow back onto the wall. With her red cardigan draped around her shoulders and her ankle-long, purple dress she could almost pass for a witch. Almost. She had no warts on her nose, nor a big chin or a hooked nose. But she had thick black hair that stood in stiff, pencil-straight spikes off her head, making her look like a witch. Linus risked a glance at her feet. Feet, according to Roald Dahl's famous book, always gave a witch away. Linus stifled a laugh under his blankets. She did have rather long, narrow feet, just like the witches in Roald Dahl's story! And just like those witches, Aunt Abigail wore old-fashioned black lace-up boots. Linus watched his aunt cross the room. Those clumpy boots! What where they hiding? Linus tried to imagine an aunt with toad-skin or furry feet. He had to pull up his blankets quickly, before his aunt could hear him giggling.

Aunt Abigail trotted out of the room and down the stairs; the clump-clump-clump of her footsteps echoing in the darkness beyond Linus's door. Snuffles, Linus's two-year-old Labrador, took this as a sign to remind Linus he was there. He thumped his tail on the stripey rug in front of Linus's bed, got up and raised his head. One gigantic yawn later, Snuffles rested his chin thoughtfully on Linus's shoulder.

What do you think? Is Aunt Abigail a witch? Linus petted his dog's head.

Snuffles rolled his eyes and stuck his black nose into Linus's ear by way of an answer. That tickled and was rather wet. Get off! Linus protested, but couldn't help laughing all the same. Snuffles gave up trying to chew off Linus's ear and curled up on the striped rug again. Within moments, the dog was asleep, his hind legs twitching in pursuit of imaginary squirrels.

Linus lay still, listening to the screeching of the wind and the unfamiliar cracks and sighs the old house made. Once or twice the lights flickered. The house needed new electric wires, his dad had said. The house needed burning down and rebuilding, his mum had cried after a thorough inspection. She'd said it was unfit for man or beast to live in. Snuffles clearly didn't feel it was that bad. When they had first arrived at the old house, Snuffles had squeezed his yellow body into the warm space by the old cooker in their huge kitchen and had fallen asleep happily.

Old houses settled down for the night, Aunt Abigail had explained to him earlier that afternoon, when she'd told Linus about his grandfather's passing away. The reason Linus's parents had stayed behind in London. Granddad had been very ill. There was nothing to be afraid of in this old house, Linus's new home. Old houses grunted and sighed just like old people, their joints aching a bit, as they lowered themselves into their favourite armchair, Aunt Abigail had explained. That had made Linus smile. He'd pictured a house on legs, dropping into a huge armchair by the fire, crossing slippered feet and shouting impatiently for the evening newspaper. Just like his granddad had done, when he was still alive.

Thinking about the strange ending Aunt Abigail had invented for Linus's favourite book at bedtime, he wondered, not for the first time, if she knew about the boy at his new school. The move into this town had not gone well. Pretty much everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. Their new home in Lincolnshire was a rotting dump. The garden was overgrown, the roof leaked and Linus's mother said the attic was bound to be full of rats. His parents hadn't chosen the house themselves. Mr Hunnicut, the man Linus's parents worked for, had found it for them. He was moving his business from London to Lincolnshire and needed them to move, too. In a hurry. So he'd told them to take the first house for sale. This house.

RATS! Linus had almost forgotten about them! He cast an anxious eye at the ceiling. Rats were almost as bad as toothy goblins! But not nearly as bad as Troy the Terminator. Linus wriggled out of his blankets and leant over to his bedside table. He looked at the picture frame that stood there and stroked the bedside lamp's shade with one finger. A pod of dolphins were chasing fish through a tangle of sea weeds, throwing blue-green light onto the walls of his room with every spin of the lamp's revolving top. The photograph was of himself and Linus's best friend, Will. In the picture they stood in front of Linus's old home in London. The picture had been taken on the day when Linus had accidentally broken his neighbour's window with his football. With a grimace Linus remembered that on that day his Aunt Abigail had also been there to look after him. He couldn't remember where his parents had been. Probably working long hours again. Aunt Abigail had somehow managed to smooth things over with the neighbour before his parents had arrived back home.

Linus watched the dolphins chase round and round the tattered pink-and-white striped wallpaper of his room. It was like living in a giant gob-stopper, Linus thought, one of those old-fashioned boiled sweets his granddad had always carried around with him in the pockets of his coat. Linus watched the dolphins and thought of the day he'd spent at London Aquarium with his granddad and Will. Linus's granddad had bought him the lamp as a reminder of their visit. They'd gone to the Aquarium for Linus's birthday. He sighed. He wouldn't see Will again until his next birthday. Then Will would come for a visit. Linus's first ever birthday without his Granddad.

A scratching sound from above made Linus look up again and stare at the ceiling. Will wasn't scared of rats - he kept one as a pet. A white one, not one of those dirty brown brutes you saw scuttling off down the streets of London. Will wasn't scared of anything, Linus thought. Except perhaps his grandmother. Mrs Mayer could fuss with the best of them. Any inkling her little Willikins suffered from an illness would send her maternal instincts into overdrive. She had been known to turn up at school with a steam cooker full of boiling chicken soup just because Willikins had sneezed once in the morning on his way to catch the school bus. A grin spread over Linus's face. He'd like to see Troy the Terminator try any of his stuff with Will around! Willikins was undisputed Judo champion of London's under-twelves and didn't suffer fools gladly. He'd have dealt with Troy the Terminator in no time...Will would not have suffered a ducking in the market square fountain!

Chapter 2

Linus's new house was miles and miles away from London. It stood at the edge of an ancient market town and was surrounded by fields. There was a lake somewhere, too. Not like the lakes in Hyde Park or St James's. This was a real lake, not a pond. It was really deep in places, his mum had warned. And big enough to be home to any number of ducks, geese and swans, his aunt had said. And lots of interesting insects. His dad had merely grunted. It took Linus's dad more than an hour to drive to work, something his boss had failed to mention, when Mr Hunnicut had arranged their move to the new house. Mr Hunnitcut had praised the peaceful neighbourhood, ideal for bringing up a boy. Plenty of room to play football. Mr Hunnicut wasn't wrong. There was plenty of space all around, but hardly any neighbours. Who exactly did Mr Hunnicut think Linus would be playing football with? Cows? The little girl from the O'Malleys' farm two miles away?

The thought of soccer-playing cows brought a fleeting smile to Linus's face, but it disappeared quickly, when his eye fell on the calendar on the wall facing his bed. Then he remembered what day of the week it was. It was Sunday. Followed, unless a miracle happened that would throw the time-space continuum out of balance, by Monday. M.O.N.D.A.Y. Ugly word. Linus pursed his lips, trying to make the word sound a little friendlier or funnier. The best he could come up with was Moanday, followed by Mournday. Nothing cheerful would spring to mind. How about Mouseday? That was friendlier. But the thought of scurrying rodents made him look up at the ceiling again. Another mysterious scratching noise made him shudder. But when no rats fell through the ceiling with murderous intentions, Linus's mind went back to his day-of-the-week-problem.

Another deep sigh escaped him. On Friday Linus's parents had left for London for a few days. Mr Hunnicut needed them to prepare the business move to Lincolnshire, they'd said, not mentioning how ill Granddad really was. Enter Aunt Abigail. She was sometimes looking after Linus, when his parents were away and his grandparents weren't around. Linus wasn't sure what to make of her. She was his mum's sister and he'd only ever met her a few times before. Linus thought his aunt was a bit weird but quite nice. She lived in a tiny cottage near Stonehenge, travelling around the world in an old campervan for months at a time.

But apart from her poor choice in cars, she was alright. Aunt Abigail was a whizz at cooking and could conjure up meatballs with spaghetti like nobody else. She also never told tales about anyone. Not even when Linus had broken his mum's favourite vase. Aunt Abigail had taken the blame, said she'd smashed it when she did the washing up. Aunt Abigail was alright, really, even if she did look uncool in her cardigan and clumpy boots. She had tried to persuade Linus's dad to find a more enjoyable job, now that they had moved all the way to Lincolnshire. She'd reminded them all that a job - and a new neighbourhood - were what you made of them. You need to give it more time! You've hardly unpacked, yet, she'd said with an accusatory stare at the stacks of cardboard boxes that still littered the living room, hallway and dining room.

But Linus's parents hated their new place and missed London just as much as Linus did. Not that they were around all that much. There was still a lot to do in London, before the business could move, his dad had explained, just before he'd rushed off again to join herds of drivers on the motorway.

Before leaving, Linus's dad had pressed a new mobile phone into his hand. Here, in case of emergencies in this wilderness. Be careful in that Gallantry Lane! You could break your ankle in the tracks that farmer's tractor leaves everywhere!

On Thursday evening his parents had packed two small suitcases, telling him that Aunt Abigail was on her way to babysit. Babysit! Linus's protests that he was hardly a baby and quite capable of looking after himself for a couple of days had fallen on deaf parental ears.

Aunt Abigail had arrived late that evening, her tires screeching on the drive, scattering gravel into all directions. Aunt Abigail drove a 1960's VW campervan, her minty-green and white mini-home on wheels. She liked to drive really fast. Well, as fast as such old vans would go. Early on Friday morning his parents had left with much beeping of their black BMW's horn and much waving. On his way to school Linus had thought about life with his mysterious aunt. Rain or shine, she always wore a red cardigan and matching socks. Aunt Abigail was quite a character, Linus's dad had said with a big grin on Thursday evening. She was an absolute star, Linus's mum had protested. Who else would baby-sit at such short notice? Aunt Abigail was a hot contender in the witch department, as far as Linus was concerned!

Family legend had it that she'd been round the world twice in her campervan. She had driven all the way up the Andes Mountain range, his mum had said. That was impossible, his dad had laughed. You couldn't actually breathe up there, the air was far too thin. And that old van would never make it uphill. Well, as far as 1960's campervans would go, his mum had protested. Linus imagined his aunt had ridden a llama for the rest of the way, her long spindly legs dangling off the animal's sides. Linus pictured her long feet as they scraped a dirt road where centuries ago Inca messengers had run like the wind to reach their masters' remote mountaintop palaces. Huge pyramid-shaped palaces built at heights that made your head spin and your stomach turn. He imagined the Spanish invadors who had first discovered, then conquered South America. He could picture their eyes bulging at the sight of so much Inca gold. Aunt Abigail, so Linus thought, wouldn't have been afraid of Spanish bullies. She would stick the tip of her umbrella up their noses, if she caught them mistreating an Inca child!

When she'd arrived on Thursday evening, he'd asked her why she travelled so much? Was she unhappy in her little cottage? After all, being so close to Stonehenge's mystical circle of stones seemed the best place for an aunt like her. Why travel in that old campervan, when you only had to wave your wand or click your heels together and be whisked off whereever you wanted to go, thanks to Stonehenge's magic? Linus thought Stonehenge probably worked like a giant battery - you could upload magical energy and be off again, whenever you pleased.

He hadn't actually said that to her, but she'd given him such a look, as if he'd let all this slip out aloud. With a sniff of her long nose she'd said: travel broadens your horizon. You can make new friends that way. Why not try it for yourself? Her tone of voice had clearly said he was in need of new horizons as a matter of urgency. That had sounded plain silly to Linus, who was happiest in London. Why make new friends when he had Will?

He missed Will more than anything; all the travel adventures in the world couldn't replace your best friend! When Linus had passed Aunt Abigail's campervan on the front drive on Friday morning, he'd grimaced at the thing. As if it was the campervan's fault that Linus was no longer living in London. There it sat on his drive, a smug grin on its pepperminty face. New horizons indeed!

Sunday...followed soon by Monday. Unless a miracle happened. Linus rubbed his tired eyes. Where was his aunt with his hot drink? He looked down on his pile of blankets and felt totally silly. Catching a cold in early summer! But that's what you got when you took a ducking in the fountain and didn't change your wet clothes right away.

Snuggling deeper into his blankets, he wondered briefly who'd win a spitting contest: a llama or Aunt Abigail. He closed his eyes and drifted back to Friday afternoon, when he'd shot out of the school gates. He was aiming for the town centre to put off the time, when he'd have to go back to that creaky old house. You always had to be quick to get out of the schoolyard, when you were a new boy. Or you'd fall foul of Troy the Terminator's rules.

Aunts like Abigail, Linus thought, probably weren't afraid of anything, not even goblins. Or rats. Or fat ugly boys with a grudge against the whole world. Linus yawned. Somebody at school had told him there was a bike shop in town. He could do with a bike. It let you get away much faster. Linus wriggled uncomfortably in his bed. When he'd arrived at the town centre, he'd found Troy already waiting by the market square fountain. He'd tried to avoid Troy and his friends, Harry and