There was a thud at my window.

I crept over and looked down. I couldn’t see anyone there.

I opened my window and looked out.

Then from the dark, a voice said softly, “Ay up, Southern lass—av I woken thee up? I bet I av. I’ve left summat for thee.”

I whispered, “What’s that?”

But there was no reply.

I pulled my dressing gown on and crept downstairs quietly, trying not to make the wooden stairs creak. It was pitch-black but I felt around and found Dibdobs’s emergency torch by the door. In its knitted torch-holder.

I unlatched the door and crept out in my slippers. The wind was moaning amongst the trees. I pulled my dressing gown tight around me against the bitter cold. The beam of the torch made a pool of light before me.

I went down the side path to just under my window and flashed my torch about. The beam illuminated a knife, stuck into a tree trunk.

Ooooh. This was creepy.

I said, “Cain, Cain, stop this now, it’s not funny.”

But there was no reply.

I went and looked at the knife. It was stuck through an envelope.

Back in my squirrel bed, with the owls hooting and the wind rattling the windowpane, I opened the envelope.

There, in thick untidy writing, it read:

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Underneath in barely legible handwriting it said:

I know tha likes this sort of thing.

See thee later.

On the train home to Georgia’s, I thought, this time I’ve got something to tell her and the Ace Gang.

I’ve done nose-licking and other dark things … Things that I will never tell another soul about as long as I live.

But I’m not going to think about the bad things, because from now on I will only go for the good.

Like Charlie calling me gorgeous.

And a naturally cracking kisser.

And saying that I was lovely.

Perhaps I just dreamed the dark bits? Perhaps they never really happened.

As the train pulled away from the station, a dark-coated figure was standing by the Skipley Home of the West Riding Botty sign.

He turned and winked to me as my carriage passed.

It was Cain.

Tallulah’s glossary

barm pot

A fruitcake. If you say, “You barm pot” it’s not like saying, “You loonie”; it’s more sort of affectionate.

Like saying: “Oooh, you slight idiot.”

bejesus

This is from Hiddly Diddly land (Oireland). It’s a not-too-naughty swear. Like “Oh my word, you caught me on the knee with that hockey ball.”

Or, gadzooks.

Is that any help?

No, I thought not.

Borstal

Is a place for very bad yoof. Like a young person’s prison. Woolfe Academy is sort of like Borstal, only the yoof (mostly Charlie, Jack, and Phil) are allowed out now and again to go on cross-country hops.

The hope is that this will make them stop being naughty and get a job in a bank.