The dark clouds were right above me now. The song of the stones seemed to have faded away, or was it just lost amongst the fierce gusts of wind? I pulled my coat closed, doing up the buttons with cold fingers. I fished around in the pockets, hoping I might find a scarf or something in there, but my fingers closed around a crumpled piece of paper instead. A shopping list? No. I knew exactly what it was. It was the piece of paper Mags had taken when we were spying on Spooky Joe. In the chaos and grief of those last few weeks, I had forgotten all about it. I smoothed it out and looked again at the mysterious letters and numbers.

MB–TB

0617 040540

0638 110540

0557 180540

0625 250540

I had wondered if the MB had referred to my sister – Magda Bernadette. There was definitely something that she wasn’t telling me, but if she didn’t want to talk to me about it, how could I possibly find out what was going on?

I made up my mind. I would have to be bolder, more direct. I would make my sister tell me the truth.

Chapter 35

35

Iwas on my way back towards the cliff path when I saw a man – a figure on the hill inland – walking right through the middle of one of Mr White’s fields, heading away from the Castle. He was wearing a dark coat and hat. At first I thought it was Mr White himself, but then I saw that the figure was taller, leaner, and his stride was swift and athletic. It wasn’t the farmer at all – it looked more like Michael Baron . . .

It was Michael Baron.

What was he doing up here? More to the point, what was he doing in the middle of Mr White’s pea field? There was something odd and unsettling about the scene. Was it to do with the way Michael was walking? The pea plants were a sea of green under the grey storm-light – the colour of veins on a white wrist. They rippled like pond-water as he strode through them.

I couldn’t let Michael Baron see me – he might tell his mother I was there. It was possible she had even sent him to look for us. I was about to make a dash for it down the cliff path when he did something that made me stop and crouch behind the bramble bush that bordered the field.

He was now running through the plants to the edge of the field. He stopped at the telegraph pole that carried the telephone wire up to the Castle from the Dover Road and then looked back over his shoulder. As I watched, he shinned up the first few feet of the pole, and then clambered quickly all the way to the top, like a sailor monkeying his way up to the crow’s nest.