“Oh. That’s cool,” I said. He seemed to expect more of a reply, so I added, “I like … um … books and stars.”

Charlie turned his gaze on Rosie, who smiled at him.

“I like crystals and photography,” she said.

“Cool! I made you this!” He produced a battered piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “I have to go and check on my snail friends now. Bye!”

And before I could reply, he went zooming off up the stairs.

“Sorry about Charlie,” Kate said. “He’s going 42through a shy phase, so he might not say much until he gets used to you.”

I assumed she was joking and looked down at the paper Charlie had given me. It was a crayon drawing of the lighthouse stretching up into a sky filled with dozens of birds. Wavy lines formed a grey sea that lapped at the rocks. And lined up before the lighthouse were a family of stick figures that I guessed were meant to represent us: Dad, Kate, Charlie, Rosie and me – all holding hands. Underneath, Charlie had written:

I put the drawing in my pocket and Dad came over to give us both a hug. These first meetings always felt awkward, and it was even worse with Kate hovering there, obviously unsure of whether she should hug us too. Finally, to my relief, she decided on a wave and a bright smile. “Welcome to the lighthouse,” she said. “Was the journey OK?”

“Er, no, it was rubbish,” I replied, turning a scowl 43on Dad. “Why didn’t you warn us about the boat trip?”

He looked baffled. “What, didn’t you enjoy it?” he asked. “We thought it was marvellous fun. Charlie had the time of his life. He’s been very excited about your arrival. I’m afraid it’s been rather boring for him here with us over the last three days.”

“Is he OK with all the birds?” I asked. “And the cliffs? There aren’t even any rails.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Dad said. “He’s been coming on research trips with us since he was tiny, and he’s always so well-behaved. We never have any problems with him.” He gave a small chuckle. “He’s nothing like I was at that age, that’s for sure. Shall we sit down for a cup of tea? And then we’ll give you a tour of the lighthouse. It’s an amazing building.”

Amazing wasn’t the word I’d have used, but we all trooped back into the kitchen and were soon sitting round the table with steaming mugs in front of us.

“I thought you said in your email that this place had been restored?” I asked, not really caring that obvious irritation had crept into my tone.

“It has,” Dad replied. “You should have seen it 44before. Bits of the ceiling were falling down. And there wasn’t any electricity.”