There’s nobody. More important, there’s no body, and I breathe out with relief: a sort of wobbly sigh.

The coffin’s not empty, though. Oh no. Right there, resting in the centre of the shiny white satin, is the world’s last Dreaminator.

Then I hear footsteps outside again. I grab the Dreaminator and crawl back beneath the curtain.

The doorknob rattles.

Chapter 69

‘Malky! Malky! You in there?’

I’m not sure I’ve ever been more relieved to hear someone’s voice.

‘Susan! Yes! I’m here!’ I’m up against the door, but it won’t budge. ‘Don’t you have a key?’

‘Only to the outside door. The alarm is going to go off any …’

Her last words are drowned out by the piercing wheep-wheep-wheep of a delayed intruder alarm. I do a quick calculation. How long will it take Mr Becker to hear that and come downstairs to investigate? Thirty seconds? A minute? Not even that.

There’s just no way I’m going to be caught stealing from the coffin of a dead man! I’m still holding the candle and I ram it back into its holder.

‘Stand back!’ I shout to Susan. ‘And get ready to run!’

I shove the Dreaminator down my zip-up jacket. Then I grab one end of the wheeled trolley supporting the biggest, heaviest coffin – the black one – and drag it to the far end of the room. I run, pushing it in front of me. I haven’t got long to pick up much speed – maybe five metres – but the weight must help, because the trolley crunches into the door, busting the lock immediately and springing the door open a little. I pull the trolley back and ram it into the door again, forcing it open with a loud bang. The coffin is blocking my exit now, but there is space above so I hop up on to it, and crawl over the top, landing in a pile at Susan’s feet. Already I can hear the front door being opened in the reception area.

Susan and I don’t talk. Instead, we run – back along the dark corridor, through the staffroom, out of the back door into the rear car park.

The only exit from the car park is the passageway past the reception block. Otherwise there’s a wall – a high wall – and on the other side a steep embankment leading down to the old railway line which is now a cycleway. We have no choice. I leap on to the bonnet and then the roof of one of the hearses, which buckles under my weight, but it gets me high enough to grab the top of the wall.

‘Come on,’ I say to Susan. ‘You can do it!’