December 5

Jigger's Journal, Day Five

I had fun during the night. I snored louder than usual, and I know it kept the mum and dad up all night, wondering where the noise was coming from. They probably thought the house was haunted.

In the morning I changed out of my dress back into my medieval tunic. Unknown to me Kate had cleaned it, so it didn't look too bad, especially with the three bell hat gone. But as I was pulling on my boot a black feather fell out onto the floor.

“Oh dear,” I muttered.

“It's only a feather,” said Kate.

“But it's a black feather,” I said.

She looked at me in exasperation.

“Didn't a black crow steal your hat?”

“I gave it to him,” I corrected her. “I didn't want it.”

“Well maybe that's where the feather came from.”

It was possible, I supposed. But I wasn't sure.

“Black feather's are often a sigh that you-know-who has been around,” I reminded her.

“Who's you-know-who?” she asked.

“You know,” I said.

But she didn't. And I didn't want to talk about him, so we let the matter drop and had breakfast instead.

For breakfast Kate got me some tinned tuna fish which I had with beans and custard. It was delicious, and I may have it when I go back home, instead of cloud berry porridge. Then I outlined my plan to get to Bunratty.

It was simple, really. I was delighted with it. It would begin with Kate strapping me to the top of the water rocket. Then as Kate fired me into the air I would begin whistling. When I tumbled from the rocket the crow that had my hat would swoop down and pluck me out of the air before I fell to my death. He would deposit me safely on the roof of a car heading towards the castle, and fly after us. Once we got there he would pluck me off the car and drop me in over the castle walls.

“There is a problem,” said Kate. “What if the crow is not around?”

There would be other crows, or other birds. But then I began to think of other birds – what if a robin tried to rescue me? I'm small, but a robin wouldn't hold me.

“There is a second problem,” she said. “Even if the crow rescued you, he wouldn't be able to fly fast enough to get to the castle on time to get you in. You could go all the way to Galway before you could get off the car, and then you would be even further away.”

She was right, and I hate it when other people are right. It means I am wrong.

“I suppose you have a better plan?” I asked sarcastically.

As it turns out, she had.

“I told you yesterday, my mum and dad are bringing me out to Bunratty to visit Santa this afternoon. Just come in the car with us.

I didn't like the plan. It had no danger, no adventure, and no madness. But it had two advantages. It was safe, and it would work.

“I'm coming too,” said Leroy. “We can finish our card game in the back of the car.”

You couldn't play cards while a crow was dragging you through the air. Leroy made a good point. I decided to go with Kate's plan.

“I've come up with a new plan,” I announced eagerly. “I will come in the car with Leroy and you.”

“That's my plan,” said Kate.

“Don't try to claim other people's glory,” I admonished her. “Maybe you'll come up with some useful ideas of your own later.”

She scowled, then pulled a straw hat with pink ribbons over my head.

“You'll need to wear a hat if you are going to pretend you are one of my toys on the drive out,” she snarled.

After lunch – a beefburger with marmalade – we bundled into the back of the car. I froze like a statue and let Kate carry me as if I was a rag doll. Leroy walked on all fours and allowed Kate to put a lead on his collar. He still wore the red check shirt and khaki trousers, but the sunglasses were in his pocket. I was getting used to the sunglasses. He looked a bit strange without them, rather like an ordinary dog.

On the drive Kate's dad concentrated on the road, and her mother kept up a constant chatter about the new extension to their house that the neighbours were building, so neither of them were looking at us. So we took out the cards and continued our game. By the end the floor and back seat of the car were covered in extra cards. Finally we got to the car park.

Leroy jumped out of the car and began running wildly around, barking all the time.

“Get that dog under control,” snapped her dad.

Kate called: “Leroy!” but the dog ignored her. He kept yapping and running. Eventually her dad had to chase him, and Leroy led him through every puddle and spot of mud in the car park before allowing himself to be caught. Kate's dad plucked him up and came back to the car, a look of grim determination on his face. Leroy was grinning from ear to ear.

Kate got the lead back on his collar, then she picked me up and held me in her arms.

“You can leave the doll in the car until later,” said her mum with a smile. “You don't want to be carrying him all day.”

“I like carrying him,” said Kate.

“Just don't expect me to carry him for you when you get tired,” said her father. He was a grumpy man.

We walked to the entrance of the castle. There was a shop we had to walk through, where they sold the tickets. Her dad went up and asked for two adults and one child.

“There are five of us here,” I said. “Can't you count?”

He turned around in mild surprise.

“Did you say something, Kate?”

She smiled sweetly, and replied: “I think Leroy barked.”

Her dad scowled briefly, then marched right into the castle grounds. We followed him. I was in – and I didn't even have to pay. Kate's plan had worked like a dream. I was a bit worried about the not paying thing. Would that count as a black mark when Santa found out? It wasn't my fault, but you never know how the big guy takes these things.