There were large white spaces on the wall where paintings had once hung.
‘This must have been an amazing place when it was lived in,’ said Alan. ‘He must have been a very rich old man.’
Eoin told him the rest of the story, explaining that the little rugby ball had once been owned by the ruler of Russia. ‘Mr Lubov must have been very well connected. He certainly had some amazing stories. Grandad really enjoyed the chats they had together.’
‘I wonder is there any more treasure about the place,’ said Dylan.
‘I’d say it’s long gone,’ said Alan. ‘It looks like anything half-decent was taken away or robbed.’
They wandered into the last of the downstairs rooms, where a piano had collapsed in on itself after a chandelier had fallen on top.
Eoin opened a shutter to get a better look at the room. He noticed that something thin and flat was lying on the mantelpiece and walked over to pick it up.
‘What’s that, Eoin?’ asked Dylan.
‘It looks like a photo frame,’ he replied. ‘It’s covered in dust though.’
Eoin crossed back over to the window and wiped his sleeve across the glass that covered the picture. He stared at the photograph which was brown and stained with age, but the most surprising thing was that it was of a man dressed in a white jersey and shorts running with a rugby ball clutched to his chest under his huge right hand. His flicked-back hair rippled in the wind as heran, and he looked as if he was just about to touch down for a try as the opposition chased him in vain.
‘Is that an English shirt?’ asked Dylan as his friends peered over his shoulder at the picture.
‘I think you’re right, Dyl,’ replied Eoin. ‘I think I can see a rose on the chest there.’
‘I wonder what that’s doing here,’ asked Alan. ‘I thought your man was Russian.’
‘Yeah, and no one ever heard of Russia playing rugby, did they?’ said Dylan. ‘Sure the snow would make it impossible.’
‘Ah now, it’s not all snow in Russia, I believe,’ laughed Eoin.
‘And Ireland played them in the World Cup in 2011,’ chipped in Alan. ‘We won 62-12 and Keith Earls got two tries.’
Eoin and Dylan stared at their pal. ‘For a fellow that can’t play rugby, you know an awful lot about it,’ Dylan quipped.
As they moved to leave the room, Eoin stopped in his tracks and held up his index finger, pointing at the ceiling.
‘Something’s moving around upstairs,’ he whispered.
‘Probably rats, or a cat,’ said Dylan, acting braver than he felt.
‘Sure we’ve seen everything we want to see, no point delaying any longer,’ said Alan, now very keen to leave the spooky mansion.
Eoin was the bravest, however, and walked to the foot of the tall, wide staircase that led to the upper floor of the Lubov home.
It was getting darker outside, and there were fewer windows allowing light into the giant hallway. But Eoin was sure he could see some movement at the top of the stairs. He took one step upwards as a figure came into view. There on the wide landing stood a man in all-white rugby gear, with a bright red rose sewn into the chest.
Eoin called out, ‘Who are you?’
The man stopped and stared down the stairs at Eoin. Silently, he turned and slowly walked away.
Eoin considered following him, but as Dylan and Alan had both backed away quickly and were now clambering noisily through the front door, he decided against it. He looked back as he made his own exit and saw the figure raise a right hand in farewell. Eoin did the same then jogged after his pals, catching up as they reached the road outside.
‘Who was that?’ gasped Alan.
‘Was it another ghost?’ asked Dylan.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Eoin, ‘probably. But one thing I am sure of is this – your man on the staircase is the player in that old photo.’
C HAPTER 6
T he boys ran home as quickly as they could and slipped into the front room, where they sat silently.
‘Is everything OK?’ asked Mrs Madden as
‘This must have been an amazing place when it was lived in,’ said Alan. ‘He must have been a very rich old man.’
Eoin told him the rest of the story, explaining that the little rugby ball had once been owned by the ruler of Russia. ‘Mr Lubov must have been very well connected. He certainly had some amazing stories. Grandad really enjoyed the chats they had together.’
‘I wonder is there any more treasure about the place,’ said Dylan.
‘I’d say it’s long gone,’ said Alan. ‘It looks like anything half-decent was taken away or robbed.’
They wandered into the last of the downstairs rooms, where a piano had collapsed in on itself after a chandelier had fallen on top.
Eoin opened a shutter to get a better look at the room. He noticed that something thin and flat was lying on the mantelpiece and walked over to pick it up.
‘What’s that, Eoin?’ asked Dylan.
‘It looks like a photo frame,’ he replied. ‘It’s covered in dust though.’
Eoin crossed back over to the window and wiped his sleeve across the glass that covered the picture. He stared at the photograph which was brown and stained with age, but the most surprising thing was that it was of a man dressed in a white jersey and shorts running with a rugby ball clutched to his chest under his huge right hand. His flicked-back hair rippled in the wind as heran, and he looked as if he was just about to touch down for a try as the opposition chased him in vain.
‘Is that an English shirt?’ asked Dylan as his friends peered over his shoulder at the picture.
‘I think you’re right, Dyl,’ replied Eoin. ‘I think I can see a rose on the chest there.’
‘I wonder what that’s doing here,’ asked Alan. ‘I thought your man was Russian.’
‘Yeah, and no one ever heard of Russia playing rugby, did they?’ said Dylan. ‘Sure the snow would make it impossible.’
‘Ah now, it’s not all snow in Russia, I believe,’ laughed Eoin.
‘And Ireland played them in the World Cup in 2011,’ chipped in Alan. ‘We won 62-12 and Keith Earls got two tries.’
Eoin and Dylan stared at their pal. ‘For a fellow that can’t play rugby, you know an awful lot about it,’ Dylan quipped.
As they moved to leave the room, Eoin stopped in his tracks and held up his index finger, pointing at the ceiling.
‘Something’s moving around upstairs,’ he whispered.
‘Probably rats, or a cat,’ said Dylan, acting braver than he felt.
‘Sure we’ve seen everything we want to see, no point delaying any longer,’ said Alan, now very keen to leave the spooky mansion.
Eoin was the bravest, however, and walked to the foot of the tall, wide staircase that led to the upper floor of the Lubov home.
It was getting darker outside, and there were fewer windows allowing light into the giant hallway. But Eoin was sure he could see some movement at the top of the stairs. He took one step upwards as a figure came into view. There on the wide landing stood a man in all-white rugby gear, with a bright red rose sewn into the chest.
Eoin called out, ‘Who are you?’
The man stopped and stared down the stairs at Eoin. Silently, he turned and slowly walked away.
Eoin considered following him, but as Dylan and Alan had both backed away quickly and were now clambering noisily through the front door, he decided against it. He looked back as he made his own exit and saw the figure raise a right hand in farewell. Eoin did the same then jogged after his pals, catching up as they reached the road outside.
‘Who was that?’ gasped Alan.
‘Was it another ghost?’ asked Dylan.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Eoin, ‘probably. But one thing I am sure of is this – your man on the staircase is the player in that old photo.’
C HAPTER 6
T he boys ran home as quickly as they could and slipped into the front room, where they sat silently.
‘Is everything OK?’ asked Mrs Madden as
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