He bent towards the stone, and this time when he wedged his fingers into the crack, the larger portion of the slab moved easily. He had to wiggle it a bit to break the grip of the weeds that were clinging to its corners, but within a few minutes he was able to lift it and slide it to one side. And what he saw underneath took his breath away.

The slab had been resting on what at first glance looked like a wall buried underground. But quickly Ben realised it was an archway. An entrance. Below it, a set of steps sheared off into the darkness. He’d discovered the old chapel’s crypt!

There was some debris at the top of the stairwell, most of which he’d probably displaced himself, but the opening was wide enough, and the steps clear enough, that Ben could easily climb down inside.

Almost in disbelief this time, he looked around the clearing again. Did anyone else know the crypt was here? Ben didn’t think so. He couldn’t see how that would be possible, not with the entrance covered over the way it was.

No, the crypt was his. It was his own private discovery. Not Callum’s, not Melissa’s, not Lance’s. His own. A private place, just for him. A hiding place.

When he dropped on to his hands and knees again and peered inside, he could just about make out the bottom of the stairwell. The vault beyond looked several metres wide at least, but there was no telling how far it extended back.

‘Ben? Is that you?’

Quickly, Ben scrabbled to his feet.

‘Father Steiner,’ he blurted. ‘What are you doing here?’

The chaplain was beside the trees, near the pathway that ran down the hill from the chapel. As he edged closer, Ben used a heel to try to move the slab he’d dislodged back into place, but it was too heavy to shift.

‘I was just about to ask you the same question,’ Father Steiner said. ‘I thought I heard someone setting off firecrackers. Did you hear anything? Or see anyone?’

Father Steiner turned to look deeper into the woods, and Ben used the opportunity to move away from the entrance to the crypt. The opening was only half a metre or so wide, and from across the clearing would almost certainly look like a shadow, but if the chaplain moved much closer, there was a chance he would notice the hole.

‘Now that you mention it,’ Ben said, ‘maybe I did hear something. But I thought it came from up near the school. It sounded like a … a clash of hockey sticks or something.’

This time the chaplain twisted his lips. ‘I suppose it could have been that. With all the trees, sounds do tend to echo out here.’

Ben seized on the opportunity to change the subject. ‘Actually, Father Steiner, I was just on my way to see you.’