Cover

A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE

In this thrilling wartime novel, a family lives in a lighthouse on the English coast, surrounded by the threat of invasion. Hidden truths, twists and revelations kept me gripped and guessing all the way through – but eventually our heroes have to face up to what seems like an impossible choice: family or country? (Which would you choose?) But there’s more. Mystical forces are at work, guiding their destinies . . . This is a world of fate, family, myth and adventure – are you brave enough to enter?

BARRY CUNNINGHAM

Publisher

Chicken House

Title Page

For our path in life . . . is stony and
rugged now, and it rests with us to
smooth it. We must fight our way
onward. We must be brave.

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

For James
and for Freddie – our little miracle

Prologue

I was very small indeed when Pa first told us the legend of the Wyrm and the Stones. It was Hallowe’en and he took us out to the standing stones on the clifftop to play snapdragon and tell ghost stories. This was my big sister Magda’s idea, and we were almost out of our minds with excitement when Pa agreed. I carried the bowl of brandy-soaked raisins very carefully from the cottage, while Pa lit the way ahead with a lantern. Mags galloped giddily behind, drunk on the night air and fizzing with delight at being allowed out after dark. It was probably not long past supper time, but I felt that it must be midnight at least – the witching hour. The darkness danced with spectres.

We wrapped ourselves up in blankets and huddled together on the clifftop, the four standing stones looming around us. Pa lit the brandy in the snapdragon bowl and the flames flickered dangerously, casting shadows on our faces. I had never played the game before. My father and sister started swaying backwards and forwards, grinning and chanting together: ‘Snip! Snap! Dragon!’ They pinched the burning raisins from the flames. I did not recognize these strange, chanting, nightmarish creatures. I was half-afraid of them. I caught the rhythm of their words and joined in the game, pinching at the weird blue flames and gobbling up the burning-hot raisins.

With his blue and lapping tongue

Many of you will be stung!

Snip! Snap! Dragon!

After the game, when the flames had dwindled and our faces were lit only by the lantern, Pa told us the story of the standing stones.

‘Long, long ago,’ he said, his face suddenly serious and skull-like in the lamplight, ‘a thick fog settled on this coast. It was very bad for the fishermen and their families, as they could not fish while the fog lingered, but it was even worse for the families of those aboard the Aurora. The Aurora had set out on the morning before the fog came, and she had still not returned.