Now, you’ve probably worked out by now that I’m not a Quick, Herbie. Jump! kind of guy. I mean, it’s not as if there’s much need for jumping and exclamation marks in the daily life of a lost-property attendant. But Violet has changed all that. Also changing it is the dismal bearded face of Boathook Man as he rises up through the floor behind me, streaming with water. He slams his hook into a beam and pulls himself up into the room in one easy motion.

So I jump out of the hatchway and grab the rope. Well, what else can I do?

I swing out …

… but I’ve got the angle all wrong.

I miss the net – and swing straight back towards the hatchway!

“Herbie!” Violet shouts, making her way across the net towards me.

Boathook Man grabs the rope with his good hand, just above my head. And now I’m dangling, four storeys up, like a fish on a line. The boathook comes up and draws level with my eyes.

At this point I can either let go of the rope and probably break both my legs, or stay dangling where I am and be filleted like a small lemon-flavoured herring in a Lost-and-Founder’s cap.

And that’s when something blue-green flashes in front of my face. Something blue-green and angular, which strikes Boathook Man in the eye.

It’s Violet’s book.

Boathook Man staggers back, his mouth open in a wordless cry of shock, his good hand clutching at his eye.

And no longer holding the rope.

“Herbie!” Violet shouts again, but I don’t need to be told this time. I kick hard and push myself away from the shed, swinging out in the right direction. I throw myself forward and just about manage to get a hand on the net. Violet grabs my coat and pulls me up beside her.

The two rickety black sheds creak ominously as the net swings under our weight.

We begin to climb down, but it’s slower than you might imagine because the net is so loose. We’re only halfway down when everything shudders, causing us to lose our grip … and fall! We grab on again and look up to see that Boathook Man has jumped too – that was the shudder we felt – and is now in the net above, hanging by his hook, staring down at us with a face like a thundercloud, seawater showering from his swinging beard.

“Let go, Herbie!” Violet cries, and does so herself. We’re still quite high, and I hear her land heavily on the sand beneath me. I let go too and land beside her, the air escaping from my lungs with an oof!

Violet starts to run but cries out and falls down again.

“My ankle. I’ve hurt it.”