‘Bram always invites me to the club’s annual Christmas get-together.’ Gerrit eased the car to a stop outside the clubhouse. ‘It’s a pretty exclusive guest list but I did Bram a favour a few years ago. Saved his dog’s life. The poor creature had a tick the size of my thumb attached to its belly. Must have picked it up running around the dunes. Since then, I’ve been a kind of unofficial club member. Sometimes we trade; I have more clay pipes than I know what to do with.’ His gaze slid towards me. ‘When he said they’d found something and you were coming out to take a look, I knew it must be pretty special. He hasn’t told me any of the details. I don’t suppose you’d care to give me a clue?’

I shook my head. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

He watched me climb out, then reversed the car and drove off.

Hitching up the strap of my camera bag, I strode towards the clubhouse and tried the door handle. Locked. I glared at it. You idiot, I thought. Of course the place was locked. I’d told Bram to make sure the items were secured every night. Even the windows were shut tight. There was no way in or out.

Sighing, I pulled out my phone and found Bram’s number. I was about to dial when a sudden movement inside caught my eye. Someone was sliding open one of the windows – a girl with long blue hair the same shade as a kingfisher’s crest. I watched her climb up and drop onto the gravel, her scuffed boots stirring up the dust. The bag she’d slung across her back seemed bottom-heavy, in danger of slipping. She yanked it up higher on her shoulder and I heard the unmistakable rattling slosh of liquid-filled cans.

Dusting herself off, she turned and saw me watching. She started guiltily, looked around to see if I was alone, then drew herself up.

‘Do I know you?’

She was wearing a black, home-dyed jumper and a dark skirt. Beneath the dark eyeliner drawn crookedly across her pale skin, her eyes were a deep, piercing blue that matched her azure hair.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Unless you’re a figment of my imagination.’

She frowned then laughed. ‘You must be the Australian lady. I can tell from your weird accent.’ She shifted her bag. ‘I’m Anneke.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said. ‘I’m Jo. Does your dad know where you are? Don’t you have school?’

She made a face. ‘It’s the holidays. No classes. I was picking up something I left behind the other day. Bram always leaves one window open a crack in case of emergencies.’

A truck rolled past, the driver crunching the gears.