The deliciously expectant smell of spring hit me as I walked to school. The daffodils, like splashes of sunshine, spattered a carpet of green meadow.

I skipped through the fields, singing at the top of my voice. 

'Fridays' I loved them. Five months is a long time when you're thirteen years old. In that small space of time I'd turned fourteen, fallen in love twice and suffered the excruciating pain of a broken heart.

However, the reason for my buoyancy that morning was the new boy from London. He'd arrived in my class four weeks previous. His smile made school a good place to be.

We hit it off instantly. He'd asked if he could sit next to me for Friday morning maths lessons; my easy grasp of numbers impressed him.

My stomach skipped a merry dance at the thought of a whole hour sat with cockney Gavin. 
I'd taken a different route to school that morning, one that took me through the fields; I was filled with romanticism and wanted a scenic journey to match my mood.

My head, full of romantic expectation, meant I forget Mum forbade me to walk this way to school. I remembered why, when pulled from my daydreams by the sound of angry cursing as I approached the tree darkened entrance of the road that led to the Neegan Farm.

The man espousing the profanities was known as Mad Terry. He stumbled down the lane spitting, cursing and nodding his head violently from side to side while shouting, "It's not right, it's just not right!" He stopped dead when he saw me and composed himself. 

Terry was considered odd by the townsfolk, but his size and strength ensured he was regularly in demand as an able manual labourer to the surrounding farmers. 
"Oh, excuse me young lady, I wasn't expecting anyone here." His polite manner wasn't what I expected given his reputation. 
"What's not right?" I asked. He shook his head and looked me in the eye, "Them Neegan brothers, it's not right the way they treat that sister of theirs."

What he said next sent an alarming jolt of recognition through my body. "And another thing, I'm sure I saw a new born in the..." He stopped. "Ahhh, I'm sure it wasn't," he mumbled, nodding his head in disbelief.

I ran none stop to school, arriving out of breath and desperate to talk. 

Cockney Gavin smiled broadly as I collapsed at my desk panting. "Crikey pickle, are you training for the marathon?" 

"No!" I said, sounding sharp. Suddenly Gavin became less of a love interest and more of an ally. 

I longed to share my experience and concerns about the Neegan family with someone my own age. I launched into a wall of hurried words, "Gavin, can we go for a walk in the woods at lunch time, there's something I need to talk to you about. I found a body, he killed himself and I think their feeding babies to pigs." He looked at me as if I were mad. "No problem pickle, but you're making no sense at all, calm down and we'll go for that walk." He took out his books, and tried to distract me with numbers; but my head remained at Neegan Farm.

I told him everything as we munched our packed lunches on a tree stump in the woods surrounding our school. It felt good to talk to someone without the usual put downs and dismissive adult commands to mind my own business.

"Holy moly, that's a lot to take in Pickle. I've never seen a dead body, hope I don't have to either." He began to talk with a measured and rationale tone that belied his young years, "Firstly pickle, we know that Terry' a bit mad, so I wouldn't take much notice of what he says. And secondly, if they're feeding babies to pigs, where they getting them from? It'd be all over the papers and the news that babies were going missing."  I still had niggling doubts, which I expressed with my reply,

"But something's wrong there, I know from the way Mum and aunt Kate stop talking about them when I'm around, and I hear them whispering and talking about gossip and rumours. Will you come with me to spy on them on Saturday?" His reply surprised me. "No pickle – let's go now!"

We ran through the woods fuelled by excited laughter.

 "What if we're late for school?" I asked.

"We'll figure that out later Pickle," said Gavin, with an eager stride.

"It's just behind those trees," I whispered. We scanned the courtyard for signs of life. All still – clucking chickens providing the only sound. Gavin began mouthing words while gesticulating with his hands, "I'm going round the back, you stay here." Manically I mouthed, "NO!" while making begging, prayer like gestures. But he sped off, crawling on all floors with impressive agility.

He disappeared behind the house. All I could do was wait with an anxious heart.

My heart thumped in my head. We were now late for school and no sign of Cockney Gavin. I tormented myself with questions: what if they've kidnapped him, killed him, fed him to the pigs? I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again. 

As my despair began to boil into hysteria, he appeared from behind the house, running silently on his tip-toes towards me. I exploded with relief as he grabbed my hand, pulling me into the woods. 

We stopped at a safe distance.  I gasped through recovering breaths, "I thought you were pig food." He let out a peel of laughter, then began to talk in the warm tone that set me at ease.

"Look Pickle, we're late for school; you go back and make an excuse for being late, say you had to help your Mum or summit. I'm not going back, it'll look suspicious if we both turn up late – Master Kenny will start asking questions. I'll meet you back here after school." 

But I wasn't going back without having him answer a fundamental question, "Hey, hold your horses, what did you see back there?" He grabbed my shoulders and positioned his head in front of mine, "You're right Pickle, there's something freaky going on in that house. I'll tell you later. There's no time now. We're both in this together, we need to work like a team, trust me Pickle." 

I willed the afternoon forward, desperate to get back to Gavin and Neegan Farm.

He reclined on the stump, his head reclined on the neighboring tree; he stared upwards, deep in thought. He reminded me of a painting I once saw in a gallery.

My rustle averted his thoughts – "Is that you pickle?" I dropped his bag off my shoulder and joined him on the stump, "Come on Gavin tell me all, I could think of nothing else all afternoon."

He began, "It's so pretty Pickle; all landscaped flower beds and perfect lawns, reminds me of the royal parks in London. I was taking it all in, when I heard something coming from the other end of the house, like a kind of humming. I crept closer to the sound, a woman's voice – singing." 

He continued, "The song came from a window with heavy curtains drawn closed; I peeped through a little slit: a bedroom. It was all lit with candles. I could hear the woman but couldn't see her – until she walked towards the bed. It's that old woman you saw, dressed in black, carrying a little basket in her arms, rocking it and singing into it." He paused again, and then stared back towards Neegan Farm, as if trying to remember something.

 "What was she singing?" I asked.

He began to sing sweetly, "Hush little baby don't say a word, Mammy's gonna buy you a mocking bird..." 

......

I wore my new dress and carefully straightened my hair. I stared and contemplated my face.   

I was aware of the constant comments from adults, often whispered to Mum as if to shield me from any self-awareness, "She's such a beauty." "She's going to break hearts." Mum, always accepted these comments with a proud glance in my direction. 

That morning I saw my beauty and became aware of the potential power it could yield, but also the danger it could put me in. Mum interrupted my thoughts, "Do you see how pretty you look when you make the effort? You look so beautiful today. You need to stop wearing the old trousers and jumpers, you're a lovely girl, you should start dressing like one more often." 

......

The chapel was packed for 11 o'clock service. Church bored me senseless, but this morning I sat in my seat next to Mum and aunty Kate, filled with excitement. I had asked Mum if Cockney Gavin could come to our house afterwards and she said yes, so long as his parents agreed. Gavin waved an excited yes as he arrived.

"Let us offer ourselves the sign of peace," said the priest. Words which filled me with joy as they meant the weekly chore were almost over. I turned to offer my hand to those behind and quiet literally jumped – MY GOD! It was him – Dermot Neegan. He clasped his huge hand around mine and drew me in, "Peace be with you young lady," he said, with a smile that unnerved me.

Mum and aunt Kate said nothing afterwards – all talk of the Neegan's out of bounds. It was clear that he'd disturbed me, yet no empathy or reassurance came from either. 

The first seedlings of resentment and anger took route. 

At home, I was grateful for Cockney Gavin's presence, his easy manner dispelled the tension. 

After breakfast I left Gavin talking to the women while I went to my room to change out of my dress. I listened as they grilled him, firing questions like arrows, barely giving him time to answer. Then suddenly, I heard aunt Kate announce she had to leave, there were chores she had to get done at home. 

I found this odd. I'd detected a distance of late in my aunt. And on Sundays she usually stayed for dinner – Sunday Roast, our family ritual. 

I moved towards my window and looked out as she left the house. She paused, took a small compact mirror from her coat, and peered into it. Then she carefully applied lipstick, and fixed her hair before setting off down the road. 

This simple act bewildered me. I had never, ever, known aunt Kate to wear make-up.

I knew I couldn't ask Mum why my aunt was applying lipstick, seemingly in secret. I'd be accused of snooping, which would lead to more heated nighttime whispering between the two.

To add to my frustration Mum wouldn't allow Gavin and I to go out together; insisting instead we stay in and do our homework at the table while she washed the dishes in the kitchen. There was so much I needed to talk about; I hadn't even had the chance to tell Gavin of the creepy incident in the church. 

I scribbled a note while Gavin struggled with a maths question.

"The older Neegan brother was at church. Can we meet at the stump a half hour before class tomorrow?" His scribbled reply startled me with its directness, "Yes. We need to get into that house Pickle"

Mum came back in all bright and breezy, "How are my two scholars getting on with your homework?" We managed to conceal our notes and answered in unison, "Good." I smiled – Gavin and I were good together.

......

As I joined him on the stump, Gavin told me of his plan.

On his previous mission Gavin felt the old woman was home alone. He suggested we should regularly survey the house in order to establish a 'Neegan routine.' As Dermot Neegan now knew me, it was essential that our faces were concealed. So, it became my job to make a pair of balaclavas. For this reason Gavin would carry out the first lunchtime surveillance on his own and he'd de-brief me after school.

Master kenny was a better gossip than a teacher. I watched him walk up the lane towards class, his hands clasped behind his back, muttering the afternoon's lessons. 

I waited anxiously in class for Gavin's return. If he were late, Master Kenny would certainly get suspicious. 

'Gavin don't do this to me, please, please, please Gavin,' my mind chanted over and over. 

The class door opened and in walked Cockney Gavin as cool as could be, he didn't even look at me, just took his place. Half way through the lesson he looked over at me and stuck his thumb up – a good sign.

Gavin explained his lunchtime observations as he walked me home from school, "We've got a result Pickle. The brothers were weighing two massive pigs on the courtyard and talking about getting the trailer ready to bring them to the cattle Mart. That means they'll be gone for most of that day, don't it?"  He stopped me, grabbing my arm. "Hey Pickle – when is the Mart?" I answered with trepidation, "Tomorrow?"

That evening I finished my homework and went upstairs to my bedroom to make our balaclavas. As I converted an old green jumper that hadbecome too small for me I began to reflect on the possible consequences of what Gavin and I were doing. If caught we'd both be in grave trouble. But I didn't care. Even though I was only fourteen I was driven by an instinct that I couldn't quite explain. 

I tried on the first Balaclava, a bit crude, but it did the job. I started on the second, taking extra care – I wanted it to be near perfect for Cockney Gavin.

......

With our mission planned we ran through the woods with excited hearts and clear heads. As we neared the farm we donned our balaclavas. We'd decided that when the masks went on, communication would be via hand signals only. 

Our first ten minutes were observation. We sidled up to the trees and gave each other the thumbs up. The tractor and trailer were gone from the courtyard, a good sign. Fairly certain the boys were gone, we actioned phase two early. 

Kicking off our shoes and hiding them under foliage we crouched on all fours and scurried round the back of the house. 

The beauty of the grounds took my breath away. But there wasn't time for sightseeing. I crawled behind Gavin, with a dry mouth and thumping heart. We stopped at the first window and peeked inside. Heavy curtains draped elegantly open, framing one of the grandest rooms I'd ever seen. Books lined the walls like a library in a stately home. A quick look in the second window revealed a large dining room, the centrepiece being a huge old oak table.

We continued on to the back door. Gavin's hand said stay, while he scurried past the door to check the old ladies bedroom. He peeked through the window and gave me the thumbs up, indicating she wasn't there. 

To my surprise I noticed the back door was ever so slightly ajar. I indicated this to Gavin. He mouthed back, "We're going in."

The sudden reality of our impending trespass hit me, and panic surged through my body. I wanted to run but couldn't. Stuck, rooted to the spot. Unable to breathe. 

Gavin noticed my state and hugged me, looked me in the eye and gave me a firm shake.  It worked, my resolve strengthened and I let out a deep breath. Gavin edged the heavy door open a few inches. He took my hand, and together we squeezed through.

We were inside Neegan Farm.

The large kitchen gleamed with cleanliness. We crept towards a door at the far end. Gavin turned the knob slowly - snap - it sprang open with a sudden jolt that made me yelp!  We tensed, waited for a response. Nothing.

The door swung open into a large square hallway. Gavin pointed at a door to the left of the hall, he nodded – her room.

We deftly scurried over and placed our ears against the door. Silence. 

Gavin turned the knob, stopping immediately when it emitted a dry screech, which made us flinch. We waited. Nothing. 

Clearly, we were the only inhabitants inside the house. Gavin turned the knob fully and pushed. 
"It's locked," said Gavin, breaking our no talking rule and forcing his body against the door. 
"Stop." I whispered, pulling him away from the door.

I felt itchy and hot under my balaclava. But all thoughts of discomfort were dispelled when the sound of a key being put into the front door pierced through the silence. 

We momentarily froze until the turning key compelled us to dive for cover in the kitchen. 

We made it just in time to hear the heavy front door scrape open.

Edging towards the open back door, we heard the jangle of keys. Then a woman's voice filled the house – "Cecilia, where are you darling? Cecilia sweet heart, it's me, where are you? Cecilia don't be shy my love it's only me, it's Kate." 

Stunned disbelief overwhelmed me – what was my aunt Kate doing in Neegan Farm?

......

Aunt Kate came in that evening all smiles. I studied her for signs of something, but given I didn't know what I was looking for I found myself just staring at her suspiciously. 
"What's wrong with you? You're looking at me like I've got two heads," she said. I quickly snapped out of it and became my normal self. I replied with a smile, "Nothing's wrong, I'm just admiring my favourite aunt."

It did the trick, she relaxed into her self. "Where's your Mum?" she asked, taking off her coat. "Out the back, hanging out the washing," I answered. "I'll put the kettle on my self then," she said, throwing her coat onto the couch by the window.

I heard a familiar jangle as her coat hit the couch – Keys. She walked into the kitchen – I delved into her pocket, pulling out a bunch of keys.  They were her house keys on a familiar chain. I was driven by a compulsion I'd never before experienced and a second later my hand dived deep into her second pocket, coming back up with a bunch of three unfamiliar keys. 

I committed my first sin – I stole them.

The following morning I waited on the stump for Gavin. When he arrived I smiled and held up the stolen goods. "No way Pickle, no way!" he said, excited. He took them from me and studied them – like they were priceless treasures. 

We could relax and continue our observations at our own pace. Now, we had the key to the secrets that lay within Neegan Farm.