“What name did he give you?” Violet cries, looking like she’s about to jump up and shake me. “Herbie, my mother’s name!”

“Bronwyn,” I declare, remembering. “Bronwyn Strand. Doctor Bronwyn Strand, actually.”

“Yes, that sounds right!” says Jenny. “Now you say it, it rings a bell.”

“Bronwyn,” says Vi, slumping back. “My mum.”

There’s quiet then, apart from the crackling of the fire. Erwin returns and jumps onto Violet’s lap. She strokes him absently, but her eyes remain fixed on her mother’s boots as they dry beside the fire.

“That was the last I saw of your father, Violet,” says Jenny. “The next morning, I heard that a baby – you – had been discovered alone in a room at the Grand Nautilus Hotel, and that your mother and father had vanished. There were tracks down by the sea, and two pairs of shoes were found. One of the fishermen reported a missing boat. No one knows what happened to your parents, even to this day.”

CLOSE ENCOUNTER

“I BET SEBASTIAN EELS KNOWS,” says Violet as the door of the Eerie Book Dispensary closes behind us.

It’s properly dark now, and getting late, but the mist seems to be lifting, and the moon cuts through the haze above us. Our footsteps crackle in the frost as we pass the dolphin fountain and leave the square.

“I bet he knows exactly what happened to my mum and dad.”

“You could be right,” I reply. “But what can we do about it? We can’t confront him without any evidence.”

“How much do you trust Jenny?” Vi says, and I look surprised.

“I’ve never thought about it, but I don’t see why she’d lie to us. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” says Vi. “It’s just that I wanted to ask her a question but suddenly thought I should keep it back.”

“What question?”

“About the malamander egg,” says Vi.

“It seems to me,” I say as we start down the narrow steps towards the hotel, “that if you want to know more about that part of the legend, you should read the rest of that book of yours. When we’re safely back in my cellar and not freezing our cockles off out here, you can have another good go at it, Vi, and maybe find the answers for yourself.”

“Yeah, maybe,” says Violet. Above us, the last of the sea mist melts from the sky, and we stop and gaze in wonder at the inky blackness of space, sparkling with stars.

“What’s that?” says Violet.

“The inky blackness of space,” I say. “Sparkling with stars.”

“No, not that. That?”

I look along her arm. Just above the rooftops, one star burns brighter than the rest, fierce and red. As we watch, the light dims till it’s almost out, before flaring bright and red again.

“That’s no star,” says Vi.