“No,” says Violet Parma, lifting the fiery object with both hands and standing tall. “I have the egg at last.”

A WINDOW TO THE PAST

“VIOLET,” I SAY, hoping my voice sounds like I won’t take any nonsense, though I know it actually sounds desperate and squeaky. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Herbie,” says Violet. “But this might be my one chance. This might be the only way I can find out what happened to my parents. My only way to find them.”

“Violet, the tide is coming in,” I say. “There is an angry man with a harpoon gun somewhere. There’s another man with a boathook for a hand, and somewhere, in case you’ve forgotten, is an enraged sea monster who cares very much about that thing in your hands. Now, I’m sorry about your parents, I really am, but if we don’t get out of here now, we’ll end up the same as them: gone, never to be found again.”

“No!” Violet cries. “Not never to be found again!” And she stares into the crystalline surface of the egg.

“Show me,” she murmurs, as if answering a question only she can hear. “Show me what happened.”

The sea mist in the cavern begins to move, swirling towards Violet. More and more of it boils from the water as it gathers into a vortex that encircles the nest, moving faster and faster. The egg, still in Violet’s hands, glows brighter than ever.

I want to tell Violet to stop. I want to knock the blasted egg out of her hands, and bring her safely back to my little cellar in the hotel, with my leftovers lunches and my cosy fire. But the sea mist is already like a tornado around us. All I can do is grab my cap with both hands and wonder what will happen next.

I don’t have long to find out.

“Show me!” Violet is saying, louder now. “My parents. Show me!”

The mist twists and a tunnel forms, directly in front of us. An eerie silence falls as the tunnel widens. Then, through the tunnel, we can see an image – the beach at Eerie-on-Sea – bathed in moonlight.

I’m amazed to see such a thing, but part of my mind is still logical enough to wonder why we’re being shown the beach at all. We could just go outside to look at that. But then I realize it’s not where we’re being shown that matters, it’s when.

A man and a woman are walking up the beach. Behind them, I see the silhouette of the battleship Leviathan. It’s midwinter’s night, twelve years ago. It’s the night Violet’s parents disappeared.

The man is wearing a tweed jacket, which is soaking wet, a tie, spattered with sand, and rubber boots. He’s also wearing a smile.

It’s Peter Parma.

“Dad!” Violet gasps.