I opened my eyes, the side of my face still pressed to the roof.

Mayor Anderson got out of the jeep, holding her lamp. It glowed dull in the blackness.

I stayed still.

Cold.

Stone.

Quiet.

Ker-lunk. She locked the jeep door and walked away.

I blinked. The moon’s glow drew dark outlines. A building. Tall windows. A van, bigger than the jeep, parked right next to us.

The smell of lavender, strong as you like.

I lifted my head.

Mayor Anderson rapped on the front door. Clud-clud-clud.

I stayed.

Stone.

Still.

Clud-clud-clud. Not a wooden door. Glass?

She cupped her hand against it and peered through.

Glass.

“Cal?” she called.

Clud-clud-clud.

Clud-clud-clud.

Clud-clud-clud.

A warm billy-lamp fuzz lit up inside. The dark outline of a person came to the door and fiddled with the lock.

Mayor Anderson stepped back.

“What’s going on?” The person opened the door. He was wearing a pair of underpants and absolutely nothing else at all. “For heaven’s sake, it’s the middle of the – Tasher? Tasher Anderson? Is that you? You know it’s the middle of the night?”

“I know, I know,” said the mayor. “You going to let me in?”

He looked out across the driveway.

Stone.

Still.

Maggie.

Stone.

Still.

“All right then,” he said. “C’mon.”

They went in, and closed the door behind them.

I breathed out.

I pulled myself up from under the roof rack and climbed down off the jeep. Tried the door handles. Locked.

I looked through the window. Darkness.

Una.

Where was she?

Was she on the floor, eyes squeezed tight like mine had been on the roof?

I tapped, ever so soft.

Nothing.

“Una,” I whispered. “Una, it’s Maggie.”

Nothing.

I looked at the building. Not a house, really. Not a church, or a school. A town hall? No, not that either.

Keeping to the shadows, I edged round the jeep, then round the van, and crept towards the front door.

I crouched low. Mr Opal’s knife was still tucked into my trousers. The handle dug into my stomach.

The billy lamp was brightening up inside.

“… ridiculous. I’m not a twenty-four-hour service, y’know.” The man slammed his keys down on a desk. His voice carried through a high open window. Tatty yellow posters curled on the wall behind him.

“She’s a wanderer, Cal!” said Mayor Anderson. “I can’t keep her in town – she’s caused enough trouble already. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about, she’ll fetch you plenty up at the city.”

Fetch him plenty?

The lump came back to my throat.

Cal pulled a bottle out from behind the desk, unscrewed the top and glugged.

Mayor Anderson snatched up the keys. “I’ll lock her up myself then – I don’t need any help.”

She took a few quick strides to the front door and opened it wide. I scooted sideways.

“Where d’you want her?” she called back.