‘That’s good – it plays to our advantage.’ Tom could not eat anything himself. His stomach was alive with nerves. ‘We need to get back up to the attic, and to that room.’

‘That was Jack, wasn’t it? But was it Jack’s actual self? Or was it a past version of himself? Or a sending? He must be very powerful if it is a sending. I’d be exhausted if I was doing a permanent sending. It takes enough out of me to do one.’

‘You know more about these things than I do, Zita,’ said Tom. ‘I just want to know how we can get past him.’

‘I’ll work on it,’ said Zita. ‘You see what you can find too.’

‘I’ll have a look in the books. There might be something in Margaret’s diary.’

Zita reached out and stroked his cheek. The kettle boiled and hissed, and Tom rushed to take it off. When he’d done it, she stood near him.

‘This has to happen, Tommy dearest. It has to.’

Tom held her hand for a second and then released it.

In the hall, the clock struck half past seven.

A few minutes later, Tom was heading up to the library, Leana at his heels, when a rasping voice called his name.

It was Jack, of course, standing at the top of the stairs, seeming to occupy far more space than was necessary. He loomed, half in shadow, and turned on his heel.

‘Thomas Swinton. Come.’

There was a command in the voice that brooked no dissent. Tom had to follow.

‘It’s time,’ said Jack, as he sat behind his desk, ‘for me to show you what you want to see. What you have always wanted to see. I have watched you, Thomas. I have seen you, wanting.’

He waited. But Tom did not answer. He did not want to let Jack know that he was right. He stood with his arms folded in front of his chest, almost as if he were hugging himself.

‘You think you can play with me? Very well. But I know what it is. Your parents. The death of your parents.’

Tom remained mute. He knew he could not accept this. If he did, he would be Jack’s creature, for eternity, like Zita, like Kit. He would be bound to the old man. His indentured apprentice, his bondsman.

‘It is time,’ said Jack, ‘for me to show you who you are and what you must do.’

‘Why?’ said Tom. ‘Why must I do it?’

Jack said, ‘Turn around.’

He indicated the glass structure which was hanging from the ceiling.

‘Go and look in it.’

Stumbling a little, Tom inched towards the structure. Once more he felt odd and slightly queasy when he neared it, as if it wasn’t quite filling up the space it was supposed to.

‘What do you see inside?’