The Keeper Read Free Page A

lowest, she creeps over and makes them feel worse.’
    Oisín shivered, thinking of some of the times he had felt sad. The day when Stephen’s friends shoved him into the hedge at the bus stop and everybody laughed hadn’t been great. Or when his best friend Jack had moved to the country three years ago, that had been a hard one. Or the day when Jack came back to visit last year, and was full of stories of his new friends and seemed like the kind of person Oisín would never have been friends with anyway, that day had been even worse. Oisín pulled down the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to feel cold all over. He couldn’t imagine the kind of creature that would want to make you feel worse on your lowest day.
    â€˜Where did she come from?’ Sorcha asked, captivated.
    Sorcha usually loved to suck all the chocolate off Maltesers before eating them, but she hadn’t even opened the packet yet.
    â€˜Have you heard of the Tuatha Dé Danann?’ Granny Keane asked.
    Oisín answered when Sorcha shook her head: ‘The fairy people. The first people in Ireland.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Granny Keane. ‘The Morrígan was one of them. A beautiful young girl. But then something turned her heart hard and she moved to a far-off mountain. During the great wars of Ireland, she swooped around the battle field as a crow, with her two bitter sisters, Macha and Badb. The three of them perched on the shoulders of soldiers and gave them the courage to fight on. The Morrígan cheered on both sides. She didn’t care who won. All she minded was getting enough skulls to decorate her room with.’
    â€˜So she’s a bird?’ Sorcha asked.
    â€˜It’s just a silly story,’ Stephen said quickly. He shot Granny Keane a sharp glance, but nothing could stop her once she had started.
    â€˜She can look like a bird sometimes. She’s a shape-shifter. Sometimes she looks like a wrinkled old lady. Sometimes she looks like a little girl. Sometimes she looks like the most beautiful woman in Ireland. No matter what she changes to, you can always recognise her by three things: the ravens that follow her, a terrible chill in the air around her and those green eyes of hers that will drown you in sadness.’
    Even Stephen shuddered slightly. Oisín couldn’t blame him. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, as if the weather had decided that fine summer days weren’t to be wasted on such stories.
    â€˜Does that mean you’re the Morrígan?’ Sorcha said, gazing into Granny Keane’s green eyes with fascination.
    A smile returned to Granny Keane’s face and she gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, no, dear. If I had all the power of the Morrígan, I wouldn’t be trying to sell my books around Dublin.’
    â€˜What about you? Why aren’t your eyes blue like mine and Stephen’s?’ Sorcha said, swivelling around to Oisín and inspecting his eyes.
    It was something that Oisín had wondered himself. He was small with freckles, green eyes and hair the colour of sand. Both Stephen and Sorcha had black hair, blue eyes and not a freckle between them.
    â€˜It’s complicated genetics,’ Stephen began, but before he could explain what he had learnt about Mendel for his Junior Cert, Granny Keane had interrupted him.
    â€˜Lots of people have green eyes, love. Your cat, Smoky, he has green eyes, hasn’t he?’
    Sorcha nodded slowly. It was hard to imagine Smoky getting enough energy to leave his basket, let alone plot an evil scheme.
    Granny Keane patted Sorcha’s hand. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about any of us.’
    â€˜Or worry at all,’ Stephen said, standing. ‘It’s just a story. Where is the stupid DART? Dublin Area Rapid Transit? A slug would get home faster!’
    â€˜What time is it?’ Granny Keane asked.
    â€˜Almost five,’ Stephen answered grumpily. He’d never