‘The police know all about you,’ I said. ‘I told them you cut the telephone line.’ I didn’t mention the fact that the stupid oily policeman had refused to believe a word of it. ‘They’re probably coming for you right now.’

‘You’re bluffing,’ he said, and he took another step closer. ‘Anyway, even if you have told the police, you haven’t got any proof. It’s just your word against mine, and who’s going to believe a scruffy little orphan over the son of the local magistrate?’

‘I’m not an orphan,’ I shouted. I couldn’t stop myself – he was even closer now and I shoved him backwards.

Michael stumbled very slightly, and then laughed. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Pet.’ His voice had become oddly light and playful. ‘You’re trying to ruin my beautiful plan, aren’t you?’ Then, before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed me by the wrist. I yelped with pain, squirming as his hand crushed my bones.

‘Let go of me!’ I screamed.

‘Just your word against mine, Pet,’ he said again. ‘And if you can’t talk to the police because you’ve disappeared, so much the better.’ He twisted my arm around, forcing me off the path towards the crumbling edge of the cliff. My shoes skidded helplessly on the wet ground. One foot shot forwards, sending a shower of soil and chalk down into the dark, crashing waves hundreds of feet below. I scrambled frantically, tearing up handfuls of wet turf with my free hand. ‘Michael, please – let me go!’ He crouched behind me, careful not to get too close to the edge himself, then he twisted my arm again – and forced me, sliding and screaming, towards the cliff edge. All I could think about in that terrifying moment was the childhood game I used to play with Mags on the standing stones – when my sister would slash with her toy sword at the tentacles of sea monsters to set me free from their twisting grasp. But my big sister wasn’t here now.

‘Let GO!’ With my free hand, I grabbed a big lump of chalk, twisted around, and dashed it into Michael’s face as he crouched behind me. The chalk was fossildry and it exploded as it slammed into his forehead, stunning him. The seconds melted together strangely then, like a gramophone record being played at the wrong speed. Familiar sounds seemed to be bleeding through the air – a thin wailing from the village below, the growl of engines in the sky above. I felt Michael’s grip on my wrist loosen, and he toppled on to his back, swearing. I hauled myself back up on to the grass, away from the edge, pushing my toes into the damp ground, and I ran – up on to the clifftop, towards the Castle and the Daughters of Stone.