Stones Can’t Dance

The dancing stones. That’s what Nan called them.

“But stones can’t dance,” said Kelly.

She’s my sister.

“Stones can’t dance,” she said.

 

I’m Ben, by the way. Ben and Kelly. We sound like a brand of ice cream. What was Mum thinking about when she picked our names?

What was she thinking about when she booked that holiday in Spain?

Spain for Easter! Sun, sea and sand! Magic!

The bad news was Mum had only booked two tickets. She was going with Bob, who looks like a walrus. Sad eyes, no chin and a droopy moustache.

Kelly and I were off to Nan’s for the week. “It will give her a chance to get to know you better,” said Mum.

 

Lucky Nan. Not.

                “You know I’ve only got two bedrooms now?” said Nan.

“Ben and Kelly can share,” said Mum.

“I’m not sharing with him!” said Kelly.

 

“Why not?” I said.

“Why not?” said Mum.

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I’m 14, Mum! And he’s a boy.”

“He’s your brother,” said Mum. “You can share a room with your brother.”

“He farts in bed,” said Kelly.

“You snore,” I said.

“You see what they’re like, Nan?” said Mum. “I need a break.”

 

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” said Nan. “Then they can each have their own room.”

“That’s sorted then,” said Mum.

Nan used to live in a big, old house in town. Now she’s got this little bungalow in the country.

“No more stairs!” said Nan. “And only a small garden to look after! I hate gardening.”

She gets old Mr. Frost to come in and do a bit of gardening for her.

 

“Call me Jack,” he said. He smiled, showing his gums. No teeth. Just gums.

Kelly looked away. She pointed up at the hill. “What are those stones up there, Nan?” she said.

Nan said, “They’re the Dancing Stones.”

 

Kelly said, “Stones can’t dance.”

Mr. Frost took off his cap and rubbed his bald head. “They weren’t always stones,” he said.

“What do you mean, not always stones?” I said.

Kelly rolled her eyes. “OK. We give up. What were they before they were stones?”

Mr. Frost put his cap back on and chewed his gums for a bit. “People,” he said.

“People?” said Kelly. “People who were turned to stone?”

 

“Like fossils?” I asked. “Dinosaurs and stuff like that?”

“Not fossils.” Mr. Frost shook his head. “They’re not as old as fossils.”

“So how did they turn to stone?” I said.

“Don’t ask me how,” he said. “Ask me why.”

“Why, then?” said Kelly.

“For dancing on a Sunday. They were called The Merry Dancers. That’s the stones’ other name. Not so merry now, eh?” He smiled, showing his toothless gums again.

 

Kelly looked as if she might be sick.

“Let’s walk up there and have a look at them,” said Nan.

“Let’s not,” said Kelly.

“You coming, Ben?” said Nan.

“OK,” I said.