‘There were four men aboard the Aurora and each of these men had a daughter. Each evening the girls climbed the path from the harbour hand in hand, making their way up to this very clifftop to light the signal fire, and they kept the fire burning all through the long, cold nights. They hoped that, if the Aurora was still afloat, if she was lost somewhere in the fog, the bright flames would help to lead the little boat home. By the fourth evening, everyone else in the village had given up. They said the Aurora must have been swallowed by the Wyrm – the treacherous sandbank that lurked in the shadow of the towering cliffs. The Wyrm had wrecked many hundreds of ships over the centuries, and it was hungry for another sacrifice.

‘But the girls had one last hope. That night, as usual, they wound their way up the cliff path hand in hand. As usual, they lit the fire, and tended it, and they sat and watched and waited for their fathers to return, but on this night they did not make their way home again.

‘Here in the dark, on this very spot where we are sitting now, the girls sang a special song to the sea. They sang the sweetest, saddest song that has ever been heard. It was a song of love and loyalty and sacrifice, promising the greatest of gifts if only the Aurora were returned safely to the harbour. They sat and sang, and as they sang, they saw the fog begin to disperse. They kept singing and singing.

‘Soon it was dawn and the girls stood up together, holding hands as the darkness dissolved and the new sun started to rise over the sea. Their white dresses billowed like sails in the first breeze that had blessed the shores in four long days and nights. A ghostly little boat seemed to bob up from the grey waves, and the girls knew it was the Aurora. They kept singing – but singing with joy now as they watched the fishing boat sail towards the harbour below.

‘The Wyrm squirmed beneath the surface of the water. It had returned the Aurora, but now it felt angry and cheated and hungry. So it took the great sacrifice the girls had promised: it took their souls. Tentacles of mist reached up from the sea, creeping over the edge of the cliff and into their hearts. As the sun rose over the glittering water, the four daughters turned to stone.’

I shivered horribly. I felt all icy and strange. I looked at Mags and she was frozen, her mouth hanging open. For a moment, I thought perhaps she had been turned to stone too, but then she blinked and swallowed. Pa was still talking, though his voice was very, very soft now – just a whisper.