‘I can’t thank you enough,’ he said. ‘You have behaved in a civilized and proper manner like the professionals you are. If, as I believe, the perpetrator of these jokes – there have been others that came to nothing – is among you, I hope he or she will realize how silly they are and we’ll have no more of them. Our play is in good heart and we go forward with confidence, my dears. Tomorrow morning. Everybody at ten, please. In the rehearsal room.’

II

Peregrine had a session with the effects and lights people which lasted for an hour, at the end of which they went off, satisfied, to get their work down on paper.

‘Come on, Em,’ he said. ‘You’ve had more entertainment than we bargained for, haven’t you?’

‘I have indeed. You handled them beautifully.’

‘Did I? Good. Hullo, here’s William. What are you doing, young man? Emily, this is William Smith.’

‘William, I very much enjoyed your performance,’ said Emily, shaking his hand.

‘Did you? I thought I might be called for this afternoon, Mr Jay, and I brought my lunch. My mum’s coming in later for me.’

‘There’s no rehearsal this afternoon. We’re handing over to the staff. They’re moving in, as you see.’

The stage was patched with daylight. Sheets of painted plywood were being carried in from the workshop. Workmen shouted and whistled.

‘I’ll just wait for her,’ said William.

‘Well – I don’t think you can quite do that. It’s one of those rules. You know?’

In the silence that followed a vivid flush mounted in William’s face. ‘Yes. I think I do,’ he said. ‘I wanted to speak to you about it, but…’ He looked at Emily.

‘About what?’ Peregrine asked.

‘About the head. About the person who’s done it. About everyone saying it’s the sort of thing kids do. I didn’t do it. Really, I didn’t. I think it’s silly. And frightening. Awfully frightening,’ William whispered. The red receded and a white-faced boy stared at them. His eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t look at it,’ he said. ‘Much less touch it. It’s awful.’

‘What about the other one?’ asked Peregrine.

‘What other one, sir?’

‘In the King’s room.’

‘Is there one there too? Oh gosh!’

‘William!’ Emily cried out. ‘Don’t worry. They’re only plastic mock-ups. Nothing to be afraid of. Pretence ghosts. William, never mind. Gaston made them.’ She held out her arms. He hung back and then walked, shamefaced, into her embrace. She felt his heart beat and his trembling.

‘Thank you very much, Mrs Jay,’ he muttered, and sniffed.

Emily held out her hand to Peregrine. ‘Hankie,’ she mouthed. He gave her his handkerchief.