Milo and the Pirate Sisters Read Free Page B

windows or sheltering from the wind behind tombstones. I have a ROOM!’
    We helped him to do a bit of cleaning and put his cushions on the floor. I placed his cat statue on the window ledge. After half an hour, the room seemed almost cosy.
    ‘Well,’ said Shane. ‘That was a good day’s work—’ He didn’t get any further because a loud, creepy droning sound prompted the two of us to back away towards the door, clinging to each other.
    ‘Ah!’ said Mister Lewis, waving his gloved hands and running to open the window. ‘It’s my bees! I told them where to come. Wait, boys, and say hello to my sweet beauties.’
    But we were already halfway down the stairs. I mean, it was OK when they lived high up in the tower, but a cloud of stingingbees buzzing all over a small room is a definite reason to run.
    *
    Later that night, just as I was sinking into a dream about screaming horses, giant bees and claustrophobic baths, there was a tap-tapping at my window. At first, I thought it was part of my weird nightmare, but when I saw Mister Lewis’s crooked hat and white face, I knew it was for real.
    ‘Mister Lewis,’ I said as I opened the window, ‘what are you—?’
    ‘Milo,’ he panted, clutching my arm, ‘it’s the mill – it’s haunted!’

CHAPTER SEVEN
MISS LEE IS ANNOYED
    M um was busy when I went down for breakfast the next morning. She had already punched up the cushions on the bamboo chairs in the sunroom, and now she was washing the china cups that she only uses for special occasions and when Dad’s mum visits.
    ‘What’s happening, Mum?’ I asked.
    ‘It’s my turn for the neighbourhoodladies’ afternoon tea,’ she said with the sort of grim sigh that told me I should make myself scarce. Mum doesn’t do fancy buns and cakes. She says there’s no point in putting bakeries out of business. But she always feels that she has to make the effort for the neighbours because they’d suss out the shop stuff. Dad usually stays late in the Garda station on those days.
    I called in for Shane on the way to school and told him about Mister Lewis’s big scare.
    ‘That’s pure daft,’ said Shane. ‘How could one ghost scare another ghost?’
    ‘Well,’ I said, ‘if you think about it, there are probably decent ghosts and bullying ghosts – just like there are good guys like you and me, and thugs like …’
    ‘Wedge and Crunch,’ put in Shane. ‘Yeah, that sounds kinda right. So where is Mister Lewis now?’
    ‘In my wardrobe,’ I sighed.
    ‘Your wardrobe!’ Shane spluttered. ‘Why does he need to hide in a wardrobe when he can go invisible?’
    ‘Well,’ I began, ‘when he’s really stressed he has terrible nightmares and he tends to become visible. We just couldn’t take that risk.’
    ‘Huh?’ Shane stopped and stared at me wide-eyed. ‘Are you mad?’ he screeched. ‘What if your mum—?’
    ‘That’s the whole point,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t venture into my bedroom. She says that she’d collapse into a coma if she went there, so I have to put my own stuff in the washing basket. And that suits me fine.’
    Then I had a brilliant moment. ‘Hey, Shane,’ I said. ‘Mum has some women neighbours coming to our house later on.’
    ‘I know,’ Shane put in. ‘Gran is bringingone of her African cakes.’
    Shane’s gran, Big Ella, makes the most awesome cakes ever. Now Mum would have something good to serve up instead of her crooked tarts and flat buns.
    ‘While they’re all chattering, Shane,’ I said, ‘you can come up to my room and say hello to Mister Lewis.’
    ‘Sure thing,’ laughed Shane as we made our way down to our classroom.
    After eleven o’clock break Miss Lee lets us ask questions about stuff that’s not on the school curriculum, because she says that it’s sometimes good to talk outside the school books.
    ‘What was it like in the war, Miss?’ asked Willie Jones, the first to shoot his hand up. ‘Me and my dad watched a film about it on telly. There