“It’s not just an egg, Herbie. Like the kind you can make an omelette with. The malamander egg is described in the book as being a wondrous ruby red. Red, Herbie! With a glow inside like fire. A red, glowing egg made of something like crystal.”

“You mean…?” I say. “Like the thing Mrs Fossil was picking up when she was attacked?”

“Exactly,” says Vi. “Like the thing your Dr Thalassi has just taken away in his pocket.”

BOATHOOKS

THE STEPS DOWN TO THE BEACH from the ramparts are narrow and sea-smashed, giving way to raw rock in places. The lower ones are almost completely covered in seaweed, but we manage to get down in one piece.

“What are these?” says Violet, pointing to the towering black sheds.

“Fishermen’s huts,” I say. “Most of them haven’t been used for years, but some of the fishermen still keep their tackle here.”

Between two of the huts, each several storeys tall, an old rope fishing net has been hung, like a cobweb set to catch seagulls.

“That’s how they dry them,” I explain. “The nets, I mean. Hey, Violet…!”

I pick up the pace, because Violet has turned a corner, ducked beneath the net and vanished.

When I catch up to her, she’s trying one of the shed doors.

“You can’t just go in there,” I say. “These fishermen are hard men. Sea-hardened, you know? You don’t want them catching you messing with their stuff.”

“There’s no one here now, though, is there?” she replies, pulling the door open with a creak. “I’m just taking a look.”

I follow her inside – well, I have to, don’t I? It’s dark in the shed, but in the small light that creeps in, I see a ladder bolted to the inside of the wall. And I see Violet’s feet as she disappears up it.

“I thought you wanted to go to the beach,” I whisper-hiss up the ladder as I follow. “What are we doing in here?”

“I want to see the view,” comes the reply.

We reach the top storey, which is black and airless and smells like fish guts. The only light comes from the edges of a tall hatch in the wall. Violet fiddles with the catch and then shoves it open. The rush of fresh air that floods in is a relief.

The beach is laid out before us, with the pier and the far sea directly ahead.

“You’d get a better view from the sea wall,” I say.

“I know,” says Violet, leaning out of the hatchway and looking each way. “But on the sea wall, everyone can see me. Here is more private.”

“What is it you want to do?” I say.

“Isn’t it obvious?” says Violet. “Something is happening in this town. And whatever it is, it’s happening on the beach. I want to watch it for a while.”