Neddie and I stood surrounded by coach passengers on the depot strand and the driver had his big hand tucked into my coat so every time I tried to wiggle free, he brought me up short. No one believed my mum was meeting me and he wouldn’t let me run off. I’d tried to stamp his foot as Ned had told me and drew the line at biting him. He handled my twists and turns with an ease that told me he’d done it before. His accent was broad and he dropped his ‘he’s; he was a Cockney from London and I barely understood him. “Just you sit still, laddie,” he barked. “The coppers are coming for you. I can’t mess with you, I gets me route to run.”
We were in Strathgallant, the first town the driver was able to exit off the highway. He’d left the coach, made a call, and driven to the depot, apologizing to the passengers for the delay. No one grumbled but teased me about our adventure. Ned was whispering all kinds of strategies in my ear.
He marched us both into the station and set me down behind the counter with the ticket master explaining what had occurred and where I’d gotten on. By now, it was late afternoon, almost high teatime and my stomach was loudly complaining. Both of them heard it and laughed. The ticket master was a young lady with white blonde hair, light lavender eyes and freckles across her generous nose. She gave me a wink and a candy bar with a cold soda pop. My eyes grew wide. I wasn’t allowed to have soda and it was a rare treat.
“What’s your name?” she asked handing it over opened. “Mine’s Pansy. I love your pretty purple eyes.”
“Aidan,” I answered without thinking and Ned groaned. “Shut up,” I told him and swallowed. He sulked and wouldn’t say anything to me after that.
Pansy’s eyes widened. I said, “Sorry. Wasn’t talking to you, Pansy.”
“O ooh, who then?”
“Neddie. He’s a bit of a snob, sometimes,” I shrugged and drained half the glass. “Him being a royal Duke and all.”
“Royal Duke?”
“You know, Edward Plantagenet, Duke of this and that. He’s my friend.”
“Well, say hello to his Highness for me,” she smiled and I nodded to him but he was still mad at me and wasn’t talking.
“What town do you live in?” she asked.
“Penhallow,” I stared at the counter where the brochures for the routes were stacked next to her stamps. She had a large radio on the side blaring out the Beatles new hit, ‘Yellow Submarine.’
‘Oh aye. And what does your Da do?”
“Farmer.”
“Sheep? Crops?” she persisted.
“Beef, wheat, barley, sheep, and horses,” I answered, looking for more food. I usually ate High tea and was starving.
“Want a sandwich, scones, too? I forget how little boys eat. What’s your farm name?”
“Cryllwythe Farms.”
“You stay right here and I’ll get you something to eat. And tea. Don’t move, okay?”
“Yes, mum,” I agreed and she got up off the stool to enter the lobby where the vending machines were lined up against the wall. I waited until she was bent over and sneaked out behind Ned to disappear into the trunk room. We found a chute leading out and crawled through into the backyard of the station where old houses lined the streets and rubbish bins overflowed onto the cobblestones.
We hadn’t gone far before I heard her shouting and Ned broke into a run hollering for me to hustle. He knew his way and slipped by the alleys like a shadow.
“Where are we going?” I panted, my shorter legs having trouble keeping up. He paused to let me catch up and sneered at me.
“You are an idiot, Aidan. You told them the farm’s name. You might as well have told them who you were and where you live. Now we have to run all the way to Pennyroyal Court instead of taking the coach.”
“It’s too far!” I protested but he ignored me and I was too afraid of getting lost so I shut up and followed where he led me.
There was nothing but a great hole in front of us with old stones piled inside it. Grass grew thick and rich up to the edges and only a strand of ancient oak trees remained of the original avenue that had lined the drive.
“I used to play under those,” Ned mourned. “My mother’s knot garden was just to the right. There was a lily pond there and a boxwood hedge where we tunneled through to the maze. A sundial marked the center and read VERITAS. Over there,” he swung to my left where there was a footpath to the moors, “Was the kennels and to the right of that was where we buried the dogs.”
“Where did you bury your treasure?” I looked around; saw only a broad expanse of overgrown grass and encroaching moors, the small stand of regal oaks and the rambling path that hikers used on their treks.
“Follow me.” He led me towards the stand of oaks and counted footsteps, turned round and pointed. “Dig here.”
“With what?” I asked and he frowned. I sighed and went in search of a rock, flat enough and pulled one out of the soil near the foundations. Of course, he wouldn’t soil his hands, being royalty and all so the entire task was left to me.
I dug for an hour, over the years the soil had built up enough to raise his remembered depths by a foot or more until finally, I hit the remains of a metal box rusted into pieces. It had been brass at one time and was now green and pitted. The only thing inside still recognizable was his gold signet ring, a heavy gold necklace, gold christening spoon and some coins.
His toy soldiers made of lead were a gray clump minus paint or portrait. I handed them over and he told me to stuff them in my pockets.
“Uh oh,” he said, staring off towards the lane we’d followed to get here. I turned and saw the flashing lights and police cars come barreling down the lane towards us to pull up in a slide that tore the grass into ruts. Doors popped open and Mr. Pa and my dad were the first ones out to snatch me up in their arms, their words tumbling out so intense I could not understand them.
The police were next, demanding to know if someone had taken me or how I’d managed to get some hundred and fifty kilometers away.
“Aidan, are you alright?” Dad asked. “What happened? How did you get out here? Why?”
“Neddie said he used to live here, Dad. He buried treasure so we decided to go look for it,” I explained and he was angry and upset.
“Aidan, Ned is an imaginary friend. He’s not real. You can’t go haring off on his say so,” he snapped, his eyes flashing.
I set my lips and answered hotly, “He is too real, Dad.” I dug into my pockets and pulled out the remains of the box and his treasure. My dad took it from me, his mouth opened, closed and he said slowly, “This is a royal seal on this signet ring. These coins bear the date, 1475, ‘88. Where did you find this, Aidan?”
I pointed to the hole I’d dug and where a smug Ned was seated. “I told you, Dad. Ned showed me where to dig.”
No one said anything, just bundled me off into the police car and drove us home