‘They were ancient wise people, like priests, who were really respected until the Romans came and destroyed their Pagan lifestyle. Legend says that each of the huge stones is a Druid, and they’re holding a religious ceremony, like they would have five thousand years ago. They turned to stone in disgust when Caesar had their king executed.’

‘If the stones are five thousand years old, the Romans couldn’t have been involved. They only came to Britain two thousand years ago,’ Josie contributed at last.

‘So, you do listen!’ Johnny said. ‘It’s all hearsay anyway, like all myths. Who knows how they came to get there, but one thing is for sure – they’re Borrowdale stones from here,’ he said and swept his hand about the valley.

‘How did they move them?’ Josie asked.

‘No idea, rollers made of logs probably,’ Callum said.

‘You like your history, Callum?’ Johnny asked.

‘Not really, I prefer maths, but my dad tells us all this stuff.’

‘He sounds like an interesting person to know, I’d like to meet him. Will he be in later when I drop you home?’

‘We were going to go into Keswick, Dad,’ Josie said.

‘I know, but I don’t want you out late at the moment.’

‘Don’t worry, no one’s doing spells over me and butchering me in rituals.’

‘So, that’s the gossip is it?’

‘Of course, everyone knows that there are more coming, too. That girl who was found on Castlerigg, you know it was Callum and his dad who found her? She probably met the same fate, maybe she’s buried right there in the middle of the circle!’

‘It’s not funny, Josie,’ Callum said.

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m nervous about the climb. I didn’t mean to…’

‘It’s OK. What’s the hardest climb you’ve done, Johnny?’ Callum changed the subject. He didn’t want to think about the girl with the blue eyes who might very well be buried in the middle of Castlerigg. He’d dreamt of the terror behind her eyes and had already pondered what sort of experiences could do that to a person. She seemed ethereal, like a goddess, a fantasy figure from another world begging him to rescue her.

But he hadn’t. He’d let them take her and now she was gone. He bit his lip and stared out of the window, barely listening to Johnny’s answer. He told them about a climb he’d done in France, on Mont Blanc, in Chamonix, where three climbers had fallen to their deaths.

‘They were attempting a trad climb – where there were no anchors in place – but with little experience between them. Several of their camming devices were placed in rock too soft to hold when the lead climber fell, and they all went with him. It was a devastating day for climbing.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’