“I’ll walk you back to the town, Miss Parma,” says Eels, putting his arm around Violet’s shoulders. “I doubt you can move very fast with that hurt leg.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” comes Violet’s cold reply as she ducks out from under the man’s arm.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Eels says. “It must have been hard for you to grow up without your parents. It’s impressive that you have decided to come here looking for them. All by yourself. That is, you are here all by yourself, aren’t you? In your searches? Apart from the gallant Herbie, naturally.”

“What do you mean by that?” Violet asks him.

“Well, I’m just wondering if you are working with someone. To find your parents, I mean. The, er, police, for example? Or perhaps some form of private detective agency?”

“I have Herbie,” said Violet, setting off at a limp. I groan inside as I follow. “It’s his job to get lost things back home again. He’s the only detective I need. Unless there’s something you can tell me about my parents?”

“I?” Eels says, catching her up. “Oh, I don’t think I can help you. I only wish I could. I’m just an old daydreamer, that’s me. Like all writers, I suppose. I’m only here for the stories.”

“Like the story of the malamander?” says Violet.

“It’s true that that particular legend has long fascinated me,” Eels says, adjusting his tie. “It’s a complex tale with ancient roots.”

“In that case,” says Violet, “you must know all about the malamander egg.”

At that, I swear, Sebastian Eels twitches, ever so slightly. He recovers and gives Violet a sideways look.

“So, you’re curious about that?” he says. “A magical egg that can grant your wishes? That can make your dreams come true? Like the sound of it, do you?”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” says Violet in a neutral voice, and I realize what she’s doing. She’s fishing for information by pretending to know more than she does.

“And if you had such a thing in your possession, Violet Parma,” Eels continues, “if you could wish for your heart’s desire, I wonder what you would choose.”

Violet doesn’t say anything. And, frankly, I’m not surprised.

“Your poor lost parents, of course.” Sebastian Eels supplies an answer for her with an exaggerated sigh of sympathy.

Violet still doesn’t speak. I look at her, but it’s hard to see her face now, inside her hair.

“What a shame such magic doesn’t exist,” Eels goes on, kicking a small pebble across the beach. “That all we have are stories.”

“You don’t believe in any of it then?” says Violet. “You don’t believe the malamander is real?”