"You nearly had one," David said, and "You certainly do," Jon added.

Twice on the way home - and Vasson took them by the inland road over the cliffs - Jon tried to tell Mr. Morton the full story. But he could barely keep awake now and the words tumbled into each other.

"Don't worry, old man!" said Mr. Morton. "Plenty of time to hear everything when you've had a bath and a sleep... Nobody is mad with you, but your mother will be glad to see you."

Dickie and Mary were strangely subdued, and once or twice Penny noticed David smile quietly at his father without speaking.

As they ran down into Rye they could trace the river by its darker, muddy track, but all the levels were covered with water now and Camber Castle stood forlorn on a little green island.

Dimly, Jon remembered stepping out of the car in the Dolphin yard and noticing a flash of red as Penny pushed him aside and ran over to hug her aunt. There was a lot of confusion and talking; his mother's arm round his shoulders, Mrs. Morton surrounded by twins, but smiling at him over their heads; Penny brushing her hand across her eyes; a steaming hot bath; cool sheets and a hot-water bottle; drawn curtains with the sun shining through; hot soup and dry toast and then blissful drowsiness through which his mother's voice came soothingly.

"Don't worry, Jon, dear. I'm sure you did well... Grandon has gone for good... he telephoned me last night to say he was never coming back here and that you were all locked in Beach View... But we knew that before he rang up, because the lorry-driver back from the beach told the police; and Vasson had already warned them, too, when I told him Grandon hadn't returned from Hastings..." and her hand smoothed his tousled hair just as it had done ten years ago and he slept at last.

12. Thursday: 15-6-10

It was probably because Jon had kept himself awake when they were marooned on the hill at Winchelsea beach that he slept so dreamlessly when his mother left him in bed in the early morning following the great adventure. After she had gone he remembered nothing until his bed began to creak and move as if the house were being shaken by an earthquake.

He grunted, stirred and turned over, but the movement continued, and as there was nothing he hated more than being disturbed when sleeping, he muttered something that sounded like "Gerraway!" and pulled the bed-clothes over his head.

Slowly, his dawning intelligence grasped that a well-known voice was chanting, "WAKE UP, Jonathan!... WAKE UP, Lazybones! Jonathan... WAKE UP!"