First published in paperback in Great Britain 2018

by Egmont UK Limited

The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text copyright © 2018 Jenny Nimmo

Cover illustration by George Ermos

The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

First e-book edition 2018

ISBN 978 1 4052 8088 4

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1741 0

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

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For Rhiannon and Seren, with love.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

1. The Hooded Stranger

2. The Sorceress

3. The Woman in the Red Coat

4. Into the Hat

5. A Sinister Message

6. The Power Booster

7. Sadie Alone

8. The Green Phantom

9. The Silent Sisters

10. False Albert’s Coat

11. A Visit from the Weasel

12. The Alchemist

13. A Party Turns Bad

14. A Castle in Flames

15. Following the Snow

16. Elissa

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PROLOGUE

At the age of three Cecily Fork cast her first spell. She turned a kitten into a toad. Her horrified parents decided to keep quiet about it. They persuaded Cecily never to cast her spells in public and she agreed. After all, keeping her sorcery a secret was much more fun. No one ever guessed who had turned the neighbourhood dogs into monkeys, or caused popular girls to grow carrot noses, and Cecily pretended to be as surprised as anyone when pencils turned into slugs and books became white rats.

When Cecily was eighteen she left her nice, ordinary parents and went to live with more exciting Fork relatives. They were treacherous villains with large ears and dreadful habits. They adored Cecily and would do anything for her, however cruel or unlawful.

In her twenties Cecily enchanted two rich men into marrying her – one by one, of course. The marriages didn’t work out, but by then Cecily had two sons, one from each marriage; Carver and Septimus. When Carver was eight and Septimus was six, Cecily heard about a certain magical cloak. The cloak was a thousand years old and had once belonged to an African magician, the so-called Red King. It was made by a forest jinni from the web of the last moon spider, and it could protect the wearer from any curse, weapon or spell.

The king turned the web into a cloak, the deep red colour of the setting sun. He left his fabulous garment in the care of the Silk family, and the oldest member of every Silk generation inherited the duties of keeping the cloak secret and safe. Oh, how Cecily longed for that cloak; it would strengthen her power and make her invincible.

Once again Cecily used a spell to captivate a husband. This time it was Jack Silk, who was expected to inherit the cloak from his elderly father. The wicked Forks carried out a plan to get rid of Jack’s first wife, and then Cecily and the unfortunate, enchanted Jack were married. Cecily waited, biding her time until the cloak fell into her hands. But Jack’s twin brother, Alan, became Keeper of the Cloak instead, and Cecily could hardly contain her fury. Punishing Jack with a spell that imprisoned him in his house forever, she departed, leaving Jack utterly mystified and his daughter, Sadie, elated. Cecily had been a cruel stepmother.

No one knew why Cecily had married Jack. The Silk family never guessed that Cecily had heard about the cloak and yearned for it. Perhaps no one would ever have found out, if Gabriel Silk hadn’t become Keeper of the Cloak for one exceedingly dangerous week.

CHAPTER ONE

The Hooded Stranger

The invitation sat on a shelf above the kitchen stove. It was edged in red and gold, and printed in an ornate, ancient-looking script. It said:

‘You are honoured to receive this invitation to:

A fantastical convention of the alchemists’ society.’

At the bottom of the card in small print was a date and the name of an obscure town in Belgium.

Mr Silk’s name was handwritten at the top, and he was forever looking at it and smiling to himself. The rest of the family tried to ignore it, especially Mrs Silk, she couldn’t be doing with alchemy or any other fantastical activity. She put up with her son, Gabriel’s, seventh sense only as long as it didn’t affect his three sisters.

Gabriel was secretly pleased about the invitation, but also a little nervous, for it meant that, while his father was away, he would be Keeper of the king’s cloak for a whole week.

Mrs Silk had made a firm promise to take her three daughters to visit their cousins, but Gabriel wanted to stay with his Uncle Jack and cousin Sadie instead. There was simply no room for him at his Aunt’s place.

The cloak couldn’t be left in an empty house, so it was decided that Gabriel was the best person to take charge of it. After all, no one would believe that a mere boy would be in possession of such a garment.

Today there was chaos in the Silk household. The girls were upstairs preparing for their holiday. There were arguments over clothes, bags of toys, shoes (lost and then found), crisps, car-seats and even bananas. Sylvie was eight and Sally a year younger. Bonnie was five and had the loudest voice. Gabriel was twelve.

‘You can still change your mind,’ Mrs Silk told Gabriel.

Gabriel grinned and shook his head.

‘I don’t like to think of you going all that way with the cloak,’ went on Mrs Silk, ‘but I promised my sister I would visit, and the girls are dying to see their cousins.’

Alice and Annie were the same age as Sylvie and Sally.

‘There wouldn’t be room for me,’ said Gabriel, ‘and anyway Dad’s friend Albert will be travelling with me, all the way.’

Mrs Silk sighed. ‘If only Dad didn’t have to go to this wretched convention. He’s not even an alchemist.’

Gabriel rolled his eyes. ‘But it’s an honour, and he’ll get loads of ideas for his books.’

‘So he says,’ muttered his mother, tight-lipped.

Sylvie burst into the kitchen, waving a pink bag. ‘We’re ready,’ she cried.

Gabriel and his mother went out to the car. Arguments over, the girls were waiting happily beside it. After many hugs and wet kisses, Gabriel and his father watched the girls pile into the car. There was a loud toot, much waving and then Mrs Silk’s car was bumping down the muddy lane.

It was time for Gabriel to begin his own journey. But first – the cloak. He followed his father upstairs. Mr Silk had already taken the cloak from its hiding place in the attic. It was lying on Gabriel’s bed. The cloak might have been a thousand years old, but its original bright crimson had hardly faded, and when Gabriel half-closed his eyes he could see tiny stars glittering on the hem. No harm could ever come to the wearer of this garment, but as it was such a priceless treasure the Silks had to keep it as safe and secret as they could.

Mr Silk folded the cloak and rolled it in an old jacket. He placed the jacket on top of a thick sweater in Gabriel’s travelling bag and zipped it up. ‘Albert will keep an eye on things,’ he said cheerily, ‘and when you get to Uncle Jack’s the cloak will be quite safe. Your uncle never leaves the house.’

‘Poor Uncle Jack,’ said Gabriel.

‘Wicked woman,’ muttered Mr Silk, referring to his brother’s ex-wife, ‘leaving him under such a monstrous spell.’

‘D’you think she’ll come back?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Not a chance,’ said his father.

‘Sadie said she was living in a Russian castle, the last time they heard.’

‘There you are then. Come on, Gabriel. Have you got everything you need?’

Gabriel eyed his bag. ‘I hope it won’t be stolen on the train.’

‘There’s no fear of that.’ Mr Silk patted his son’s shoulder. ‘Very few people outside the family know about the cloak. Albert knows, of course, but he’s my oldest friend.’

‘Charlie Bone knows, and Tancred and Emma, and all my friends at Bloor’s Academy.’

‘They are family,’ said Mr Silk. ‘They’re the Red King’s descendants, too.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to take the cloak to Belgium with you?’ Gabriel asked.

‘To an alchemists’ convention?’ Mr Silk shook his head. ‘It’ll be crowded with sorcerers and their like. They’d sniff it out in no time.’

‘You said that very few people can wear the cloak safely.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Silk. ‘But who knows if this applies to sorcerers. Come on, let’s get you to the station. I’ve got a plane to catch when I’ve seen you off.’

Gabriel picked up his bag and followed his father downstairs. In the hall he shrugged himself into his anorak, while Mr Silk put on a grey woollen coat. It made him look far more important than he usually did. He was a small man, with thinning, sandy hair, mild grey eyes and rimless spectacles.

Gabriel didn’t resemble his father in the least. He was tall for his age, lanky and dark. His hair had a habit of flopping over one eye and Gabriel was happy to leave it that way.

When Mr Silk opened the front door the mistletoe over his head swung wildly in a cold breeze. It was only three days after Christmas.

The train station was quiet, their platform deserted. But on the other side of the rails a few passengers stamped up and down, trying to keep warm. All were travelling south.

A blast of freezing air bowled dust and paper down the platform. Wind from the north, where Uncle Jack and Sadie lived. Gabriel turned up his collar. Soon he would be travelling into the mountains and the icy home of the north wind. But Sadie would be there, cooking wonderful things to eat.

Ten minutes passed.

Mr Silk kept staring at his watch. He was beginning to look anxious. ‘Train’s late,’ he muttered. He paced up and down the platform, his hands in his pockets, whistling. There was a note of unease in the whistles. ‘The train can’t have gone through already,’ he said. ‘We were here in good time.’

‘Perhaps it’s been cancelled,’ Gabriel suggested.

His father looked even more worried. ‘No, no, impossible. I’ve got to go soon, Gabe. I must get to the airport in time.’

Another ten minutes passed. Mr Silk took out his mobile and called a number. ‘Ugh. I’m not getting through,’ he said. ‘They’re probably in a tunnel.’

A few minutes later his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it to his ear. ‘Albert!’ he said. Scattered sounds came from the mobile and Mr Silk replied, ‘Great! Sorry to miss you, but Gabriel’s here, all ready with the –’ he glanced over his shoulder – ‘you know what.’ After another short burst of sound, Mr Silk said, ‘Good! Good! Catch you in the new year, Albert. Thanks for this.’

‘Is your friend . . .?’

‘He’s on the train, but he got the time wrong. It’ll be another fifteen minutes, and I must dash, Gabe, or I’ll miss my plane.’

‘Aren’t you going to –’ Gabriel began.

‘Sorry, son, I’ve got to go. Albert’s nearly here. You’ll remember him when you see him. Big man, white moustache. He’s going to be wearing a black hat. My oldest friend. You’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Gabriel repeated. He wished the phrase didn’t have a whiff of bad luck about it. ‘Bye, Dad. Have a good convention.’

‘I will. Bye, Gabe.’ Mr Silk patted his son’s shoulder and walked briskly to the exit. He gave a quick wave and left the station.

Gabriel clutched his bag. He looked over his shoulder, then up and down the platform. A woman in a red coat was now sitting on a bench quite close to him. Gabriel thought she had been staring at him. She quickly glanced away.

The minutes ticked by. Gabriel kept consulting his watch. He had never known fifteen minutes to last so long. On a sudden impulse, he pulled out his phone and rang his friend, Charlie. There was no reply. Gabriel remembered that Charlie was in some far off place with his cousin, Henry. He tried Tancred Thorsson’s number.

‘Hi, Gabe,’ came Tancred’s cheerful voice. ‘How –’ His next words were drowned by an explosive sneeze in the background. ‘Dad’s got a cold,’ Tancred explained. Gabriel could hear things hitting the floor – tins, perhaps, or knives – and then the smash and tinkle of glass. ‘Another window’s gone,’ said Tancred calmly. In the Thorssons’ house it was an almost everyday occurrence.

Tancred and his father were weather-mongers, they could muster up wind, rain, hurricanes, thunder and lightning at will. The trouble was that these powerful elements could also arrive unbidden, especially if the Thorssons were anxious or unwell.

‘Are you OK, Gabe?’ asked Tancred when the noise had died down.

‘I’m OK,’ said Gabriel. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes, yes. I’m fine,’ Tancred replied, and then he sneezed.

‘Bless you,’ said Gabriel. ‘Oh, I think I can see the train.’

‘OK, Gabe. Bye, then. Have a great time in the north.’

Gabriel was reluctant to let his friend go, but the train was drawing closer. Gabriel hardly had time to get his mobile into a pocket, before three carriages squealed past him into the station. A man leaned out of a window several doors down. He wore a black fur hat.

‘Gabriel!’ called the man. ‘Gabriel Silk?’

‘Yes. That’s me.’ Gabriel picked up his bag and raced towards the figure in the black hat.

The door opened and a large man stepped down on to the platform. ‘Hurry, hurry, Gabriel.’ The man had a white moustache and wore a grey tweed coat with a black fur collar. Tufts of white hair stuck out from under his hat.

‘Good to meet you, Gabriel,’ said Albert when Gabriel had reached him. ‘I’m Albert Blackstaff.’ He gripped Gabriel’s free hand, shook it heartily and climbed back into the train. Gabriel leapt up the steps after him.

Albert led the way to a seat with a table. There were only two or three others in the carriage, and then the woman in the red coat came in. She looked at Gabriel who quickly shuffled away from her gaze and towards a window seat. He lifted his bag on to the table and sat behind it. Albert took the seat opposite and winked at him. ‘Precious cargo,’ he whispered.

‘Yes.’ Gabriel nodded. He felt foolish because surely no one had followed him, and who was there to steal the bag? Surely not the woman in the red coat.

It was a long journey. Gabriel had been prepared for that, but he found his companion’s silence a bit disturbing. Gabriel had expected him to be a bit more chatty. Almost as soon as they sat down Albert produced a newspaper, shook it out and held it up before him.

Gabriel read his book, an adventure involving pirates and parrots. When he was tired of that, he pulled a bag of sandwiches out of his pocket. They were slightly squashed but still fresh, and Gabriel thought them worth offering.

‘Have a sandwich,’ he said, holding the bag out to Albert.

The big man shook his paper and peered round the side of it. ‘What?’

‘Sandwich?’ said Gabriel. ‘Cheese and tomato, Mum made them.’

‘Ah.’ Albert eyed the sandwiches and frowned. ‘No thanks, Gabriel. I’ll wait.’ He took off his fur hat, revealing a mop of thick white hair. ‘Getting a bit hot in here.’

‘Are you going to Meldon as well? I forgot to ask Dad.’

‘No, not Meldon.’ Albert obviously thought that was enough information.

Gabriel tried to start another conversation. ‘Dad says we met when I was five, but I can’t really remember.’

‘Oh, I can, Gabriel. You were a very bonny little lad.’

‘I must have changed a lot.’ Gabriel hadn’t meant to sound surprised, but he knew he had been anything but a bonny little lad.

‘We all change,’ Albert said cheerfully. ‘Get on well with your Uncle Jack, do you?’

‘He’s OK.’ Gabriel didn’t like to mention his uncle’s problem. ‘My cousin Sadie’s great. She can cook anything.’

‘Anything?’ Albert raised an eyebrow.

‘Well, almost anything,’ Gabriel amended.

‘Ah.’ Albert disappeared behind his newspaper again.

Gabriel ate a sandwich and went back to his book.

It began to get dark. In the weak light Gabriel could see winter trees swaying in a fierce north wind.

‘Looks cold out there,’ he muttered.

‘Mm?’ Albert lowered his paper and, giving Gabriel a friendly smile, said, ‘Get me some tea, would you, Gabriel? Milk, no sugar. And a cake, anything chocolate. And something for yourself, here.’ He felt in his pocket and produced a ten pound note. ‘Get what you want.’ He winked.

Surprised by a second wink, Gabriel took the note and made his way to the restaurant car. He ordered two chocolate muffins, a tea and an orange juice. While he was waiting, the woman in the red coat came in and stood behind him. ‘Be careful,’ she said.

Gabriel thought she was warning him not to spill the tea. He was making his way back to his seat, and just crossing the gap between coaches, when suddenly a man leapt in front of him. Where he had come from Gabriel couldn’t guess. He recoiled from the man’s awful smell, almost dropping his tray. The stranger wore a long, hooded cloak, his pale eyes bulged out of leathery-looking skin and his wrinkled cheeks hung over his jaws like shrivelled balloons.

‘Fool!’ spat the man. ‘Do thy duty.’

‘Gabriel was too shocked to move. ‘Wha . . .? he mumbled.

‘Dost thou forget thou art Keeper?’ grunted the apparition.

‘No . . . no,’ croaked Gabriel.

‘Aiee!’ cried the hooded man. ‘Stop them, or ‘twill be the worse for thee.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Gabriel, almost tearfully.

The hooded man growled, showing long cabbage-coloured teeth, but all at once a sharp voice said, ‘Leave the boy alone,’ and the woman in the red coat strode past Gabriel. She prodded the stranger in the chest, saying, ‘Go away. Leave him alone.’

A dreadful sound came from the man. A long, gasping intake of breath, followed by a snarl. ‘I will not harm thee this time, Keeper’s friend,’ he grunted, ‘but beware, I can do worse.’ He waved a hand of gnarled, fleshless fingers before the woman’s face, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he vanished.

Gabriel’s hands began to shake. The woman in the red coat seemed unable to move. She stared at the space the hooded figure had occupied, her hand still locked on to her cup of tea. Her mouth had dropped open and her eyes were wide and fixed.

‘Was . . .? I mean . . . are you?’ Gabriel stuttered.

The woman remained in a sort of frozen state, unable to respond in any way, almost as though Gabriel wasn’t there.

Gabriel felt he should give her a nudge, or pat her hand, anything to shake her out of her trance, or whatever it was, but he was afraid of spilling Albert’s tea. So he just stood beside the woman, who, after all, had saved him from something definitely nasty. ‘Er . . . are you?’ he said hesitantly. ‘No, that’s silly, you’re definitely not all right, are you?’

‘Oh!’ The woman gave a long sigh and turned to Gabriel. ‘Whatever happened?’

‘There was a horrible-looking thing here,’ said Gabriel. ‘It waved its hand and then it kind of vanished.’

‘Of course. How could I forget? You go back to your seat, Gabriel. I’m quite all right now.’

‘Are you sure?’ Gabriel wondered how she knew his name.

‘Yes, yes. But I’m new to the job, and I’d rather you didn’t mention my little – er – moment of weakness.’ The woman had a warm, friendly smile.

‘Who would I mention it to?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Oh, never mind.’ She was quite young, Gabriel reckoned. He thought he’d seen her before somewhere.

‘Better get back to your seat,’ she said firmly.

Albert appeared to be asleep when Gabriel reached him. Gabriel set the tray in front of the big man, muttering that he was sorry he had taken so long.

Albert opened one eye. ‘Muffins,’ he said. ‘Good choice.’

Gabriel handed over the change and slid into his seat. He thought he should probably mention the hooded stranger, but he waited until Albert had munched his way through his muffin before describing the man who had accosted him.

Albert frowned and placed his cup on the table. ‘You should have alerted me before,’ he said.

‘Sorry. I thought you’d like to finish your tea first,’ said Gabriel. ‘I hope it’s not a bad sign.’

‘Who knows?’ Albert looked at his watch. ‘Ah. Time for my medication,’ he said, and he pulled a small travelling bag from under his seat. ‘I’ll just pop to the toilet, Gabriel. Won’t be a tic.’

Gabriel wondered why Albert had to take his bag to the toilet. Perhaps he needed his towel and toothbrush.

Albert was in the toilet for a long time. The train stopped briefly at a station, then rolled on again. Albert still hadn’t returned.

Gabriel leaned back in his seat and the train continued into the night. It was now quite dark outside. Gabriel yawned and closed his eyes. Perhaps he fell asleep, he couldn’t be sure, but all at once he was aware of the nauseous smell of decay drifting under his nose; the air was thick with it. Gabriel sat up and coughed violently.

There was a faint hoot from the engine and the train began to slow down. Slower and slower. Seconds later it stopped altogether. It was very quiet in the carriage. Gabriel peered through the window. Flurries of snow came floating out of the darkness.

‘Snow,’ he murmured.

‘Fool,’ croaked a voice behind him. ‘Now it begins.’

CHAPTER TWO

The Sorceress

Earlier that same day, when the sky was still the deep grey of a winter dawn, someone rang Jack Silk’s doorbell. Sadie, suddenly wide awake, threw on her dressing gown and ran downstairs, her long pigtail swinging behind her. Gabriel was not expected until the evening, and trains didn’t usually arrive this early.

When Sadie opened the front door and found Cecily Fork on the step, she was too stunned to speak. Cecily’s son, Septimus, glowered beside her, and the dog, Carver, sat mute on the path. A large shiny car was parked in the road behind them.

Sadie clung to the door to steady herself. The shock took her breath away. ‘Oh no,’ she mumbled.

‘Not very welcoming.’ Sadie’s ex-stepmother had a voice like a rusty nail scraping the bottom of a saucepan. ‘I thought I’d beaten the rudeness out of you.’

‘It came back when you left,’ said Sadie, feeling more courageous.

Cecily’s pale eyes narrowed, Carver snarled and Septimus squawked, ‘Stupid girl.’

‘What d’you want,’ demanded Sadie, still clinging to the door.

The sorceress thrust her aside and strode into the house.

‘Dad!’ called Sadie.

But he was already standing in the passage, in his dressing gown, his face white with horror.

A breeze smelling of burnt metal followed Cecily into the house. Sadie could feel it pressing about her, numbing her thoughts, muffling sounds. The sorceress, her son and the dog pushed their way into the kitchen, while Sadie and her father followed, helplessly.

Cecily wore a leopard-skin coat, its wide collar cradling her steel grey hair like a bag of knives. ‘You don’t look pleased to see me,’ she grated, staring at Jack.

He didn’t reply.

Sadie could see the pain in her father’s eyes. It made her want to shout at the sorceress.

Cecily shrugged her shoulders and sat down. ‘Do we care if you’re pleased?’

‘No, we do not,’ said Septimus. In his close-fitting grey suit, white shirt and blue tie, he hardly looked like a boy on holiday. He had a round, pink face, and his shiny black hair clung to his head like a skullcap.

Jack sank on to a chair and murmured, ‘Why have you come back?’

‘Oh, I haven’t come back,’ said Cecily, drawing off a tight leather glove. You could see the sparkle even before she thrust out her hand. A large emerald glinted on her ring finger. ‘I was just passing; had to bring a few Christmas gifts to some friends.’

‘Spies, I suppose,’ Sadie muttered. ‘Some of your relatives keeping an eye on us.’

Cecily ignored her. ‘I’m getting married,’ she announced, with an unpleasant smile.

‘Again?’ said Jack.

‘Congratulations, you mean,’ said Septimus, as he wandered around the kitchen.

Sadie hated the way her ex-stepbrother poked about on counters and shelves. Carver growled and snapped at the boy’s ankles and, occasionally, Septimus kicked at the dog, sending him whining under the table. Poor Carver was the result of a spell. He had once been Septimus’s older brother, but Cecily had turned him into a dog: a punishment for bullying his little brother. The spell was supposed to last for a day, but it still hadn’t worn off.

‘Aren’t you interested in my future husband?’ Cecily asked her third husband.

‘Should I be?’ asked Jack, with a wobble in his voice.

Septimus leaned over Jack’s shoulder and crowed, ‘Dr Ichabod Loth of Ludgarth Hall School. He’s famous.’

‘Indeed.’ Jack took a breath. ‘Perhaps now is the time for you to set me free, Cecily? I don’t know what I did to offend you, but surely my punishment has lasted long enough.’

Cecily raised her eyes to the ceiling, ‘Perhaps not,’ she said.

Jack folded his arms and stared grimly at the table.

‘Dr Ichabod Loth is one of the Hundred Heads,’ boasted Septimus. ‘They’re headmasters of great schools all over the world.’

‘We know that,’ Sadie muttered. ‘We’ve got friends at Bloor’s Academy.’

‘They’re for gifted children like me,’ Septimus went on. ‘Weather-mongers, shape-shifters, animal-speakers and stuff. My gift hasn’t developed yet, but I’ve got a lovely voice.’

Cecily smiled fondly at her youngest, and from under the table, Carver gave a forlorn growl.

‘Of course, your nephew attends Bloor’s Academy,’ said Cecily. ‘Though I wouldn’t call him gifted, poor boy. He has that awful affliction.’

‘It’s not an affliction,’ Sadie burst out. ‘It’s the seventh sense. And it’s wonderful, because he can feel all sorts of emotions belonging to other people, and he can see what happened to them through their clothes.’

‘Huh! Coming to see you, is he?’ said Cecily.

Sadie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Almost in a whisper, her father said, ‘How do you know that?’

‘As you suggested, I have my spies.’ The sorceress carefully pulled her gloves back on and stood up. ‘Come along, boys,’ she said, drawing the fur over her shoulders. ‘It’s a long drive to Ludgarth.’

‘So you’ve made it your home already?’ Jack said quietly.

‘Of course. It suits me very well.’ Cecily made for the door, and Septimus marched after her, with Carver snapping at his heels.

Sadie followed, at a distance. When Cecily opened the front door, cold air rushed into the house and Sadie breathed it in gratefully.

The sorceress walked to the gate, her steel-toed boots striking the path like hammers. Sadie pulled the door wider, letting the air flood down the passage and into the kitchen.

Cecily stopped by the gate. ‘Aren’t you going to close the door, stupid girl?’ she said. ‘The house will freeze.’

Sadie stared at her ex-stepmother. ‘I’m cleansing it,’ she said, under her breath.

‘What did you say?’

‘Mumble, mumble,’ Septimus said, sniggering. ‘She always mumbled.’ He climbed into the back of the huge black vehicle parked before the house. ‘Mummy’s car goes faster than a jet,’ he shouted through the open window.

I bet it does, thought Sadie, it’s probably spell-driven.

Cecily remained by the gate. Her small eyes glittered. Sadie’s hand went to the place below her neck where a charm lay hidden beneath her sweater.

The sorceress gave a shrill laugh. ‘Your fairy star won’t protect you forever, Sadie Silk,’ she said with a snort.

‘Why won’t you lift the curse?’ Sadie asked gravely.

A cruel smile tilted a corner of Cecily’s purple lips. ‘Because life isn’t perfect,’ she retorted.

Sadie stepped back and closed the door.

When she returned to the kitchen she found that her father hadn’t moved. He sat at the table, his chin resting on his folded hands, and his grey eyes half-closed. Sadie ran and hugged him. ‘Oh, Dad, let’s forget her.’ Sadie leant her head against his. ‘She can’t do any worse, and you’ll be free, one day, I know you will.’

Her father patted her hand. ‘Of course I will. We’ll get on with our lives as if Cecily was just a nasty dream.’

Sadie threw back her pigtail and smiled. ‘Gabriel’s coming, and I’m going to cook a chicken casserole.’ She went to the fridge to check on the chicken. ‘Phew, it’s still there,’ she said. ‘I thought Cecily might have turned it into a wild boar, just to spite me. I don’t know how to cook one of those.’

Her father laughed heartily, and Sadie knew that they would be all right, for a while at least. She spent the next twelve hours cleaning and cooking, and then she put Christmas lights in Gabriel’s bedroom. Her father emerged from his workroom for quick snacks and cups of tea, but otherwise he remained tapping, scraping and chiselling. He was making a very impressive table for the Mayor of Meldon.

Just before seven o’clock, Sadie had a wonderful surprise. She had been gazing at the Christmas tree in the window when she saw pale flakes drifting past the street lamp.

‘Snow,’ she breathed.

Sadie had longed for snow. She loved the way it iced the mountains and brought enchantment to the land.

‘You’re fanciful like your mother,’ her father would say. His voice, slow and gentle when he mentioned his first wife, always brought Sadie closer to the person who had died when she was six, and she would touch the obsidian star, hanging on a gold chain round her neck. It had been a birthday present from her mother; a charm against evil, given in turn to Mrs Silk by a white witch called Alice Angel. It had kept Sadie safe, always, but sadly not her mother, once she had given it away.

To Sadie the whirling crystals seemed to have come especially for her. Her favourite cousin, Gabriel, was on his way to them. He was already on the evening train, and he was carrying the king’s cloak.

She went up to the guest room for the tenth time that day, her long pigtail swinging behind her. She plumped up the pillows, straightened the bed cover and went downstairs again. As usual her father was in the big workshop beyond the kitchen. Sadie waited patiently while he tapped a wooden peg in the end of the mayor’s table. Jack Silk was a fussy carpenter and hated being interrupted.

‘Perhaps I should put some holly in Gabriel’s room?’ Sadie suggested, when her father had laid aside his mallet.

Mr Silk mopped his forehead with a red handkerchief. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because it’s still the Christmas holidays,’ said Sadie.

Her father’s grey eyes twinkled behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. The lenses were streaked with oil and sawdust. Sadie wondered if he could actually see her. ‘So it is,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some of your magnificent fruit cake.’

Sadie beamed with pleasure. ‘Gabriel’s train is taking a long time.’

Mr Silk consulted his watch. ‘He’ll be here in less than an hour. I’ve asked Ned-next-door to meet the train.’

Ned-next-door was the best friend anyone like housebound Jack Silk could have. But whenever Ned helped out, Sadie thought of her stepmother’s curse.

While the Silks ate fruit cake, Sadie kept an eye on the clock. She had laid a place for Gabriel, ready for his arrival. Half an hour passed, and then another. At eight o’ clock the doorbell rang. Sadie ran to open the front door. Ned stood there, looking serious. Snow fell steadily about him. Sadie took him into the kitchen.

‘Train never arrived,’ said Ned, pulling off his woolly hat. ‘They said at the station that it was held up by snow.’

‘Ah, the snow,’ said Jack.

‘What shall I do? Go back to the station and wait?’ Ned didn’t look too keen on this idea.

‘No, no.’ Mr Silk began to pace up and down the kitchen. ‘They’ll send a bus. They usually do. We’ll just sit tight. You go home, Ned, and thank you.’

But when Ned had gone, Mr Silk began to rub his head, hunch his shoulders and pace even faster. Sadie knew why. Her father was worried about the cloak. Would Gabriel keep it safe? He was known to be a bit dreamy, forgetful even. But Sadie trusted him. He would never let the magic cloak out of his sight, not for a moment. He was the Keeper for a whole week. What an honour!

Sadie had seen the cloak once before. Gabriel’s father had brought it to Meldon, hoping it could break Cecily’s cruel spell. But it was too late. The cloak had been made as a protection against evil; it could not undo a spell that had already been cast.

And yet . . . and yet . . . Sadie remembered how the cloak had gripped her in its silent power when she touched it. There was such great magic there, and it was coming back to them. Gabriel was on his way. ‘I’ll ring railway enquiries,’ she said. Her father was not a practical man. Someone in the family had to be.

But railway enquiries were out of reach, even on the landline.

‘It’s the snow,’ muttered Mr Silk.

Sadie made another pot of tea, and her father sat down again. But Sadie found herself going to the front door. When she opened it there was no one there. So she stood on the step and gazed at the falling snow. For some reason she felt as she had when she touched the cloak, held in thrall by some wonderful enchantment. It was as if the snow was watching her.

CHAPTER THREE

The Woman in the Red Coat

Gabriel was still on the train. He dared not turn around to see who was behind him. He stared straight ahead, telling himself that there was no one there, no one with such an overpowering stink it made him feel sick. He held his nose and closed his mouth. As long as he didn’t see the thing that smelled so bad, as long as he didn’t look it in the eye, he hoped that it might just disappear.

But a person can’t last forever without taking a breath, and eventually Gabriel had to release his nose. The smell lingered but it was gradually fading. Gabriel stood up and looked along the carriage. It appeared to be empty. Suddenly, above his head, the conductor’s voice informed passengers that, due to a fall of snow ahead of them, the train could go no further. However, a bus would arrive within the hour.

Gabriel pulled out his mobile and tried to contact his uncle. There was no signal. ‘Of course not,’ Gabriel said with a sigh, ‘we’re in the wild.’

The door at the end of the carriage opened and the woman in the red coat came in. She walked briskly down the aisle, saying, ‘Oh, there you are.’

‘The train seems to be stuck,’ Gabriel remarked, a little nervously.

‘We must get off right now,’ she said.

‘Must we?’ said Gabriel. ‘But it’s cold outside, and the bus might not arrive for an hour.’

‘We’re not waiting for a bus,’ said the woman.

‘Er,’ Gabriel said hesitantly, ‘my friend hasn’t come back from the toilet.’

‘If you mean that man with the white moustache,’ said the woman, ‘he got off at the last station.’

Gabriel gaped at her. ‘But he can’t have. He never said goodbye.’

‘The train probably arrived at his station sooner than he expected. Never mind. Let’s get off now.’

‘I saw him,’ she went on as Gabriel continued to look uncertain. ‘I asked him why you weren’t with him and he told me to mind my own business. We’re getting off now.’

Maybe she had decided to try and escape the hooded man, Gabriel thought. ‘OK,’ he said.

The woman lifted Gabriel’s bag off the table, but he jumped up, crying, ‘No. You can’t. It’s mine.’

‘Ssh!’ the woman hissed. She handed the bag to Gabriel. ‘I’m sorry, you must be very confused.’ She smiled again and said, in a hushed voice, ‘I’m Hetty Bean, a friend of Cook’s, you know, at Bloor’s Academy. She asked me to watch over you, and so I’m what she calls a Guardian now. Please trust me. We must get away from that stinking stranger as soon as we can.’

Gabriel nodded in agreement. ‘I think I’ve seen you in the dining hall at Bloor’s.’

Hetty smiled. ‘That’s me. Cook’s assistant – well, apprentice, really.’ She picked up Albert’s black hat. ‘Is this yours?’

‘No, it’s Albert’s, my companion. He must have left it behind.’

Hetty thrust the hat into her pocket. ‘Come on, then,’ she said, and hurried down the aisle.

Gabriel followed, hugging his bag. Hetty was already opening the train door when he reached her. She stepped down on to the platform and held up a hand to help with the bag. Gabriel clung to it and jumped out. The cold wind wrapped itself round their legs, and flurries of snow drifted into their faces. Gabriel turned his back to the wind and gulped. ‘I’m not sure about this.’

Hetty patted his shoulder. ‘Everything will be fine. I called my father before we lost signal. He won’t be long.’

Gabriel stared at the train. It looked very cosy in there. He couldn’t see the hooded stranger in any of the windows. Where was he? And why had Albert got off without saying goodbye? It didn’t make sense. Gabriel turned away from the train and looked over the platform railing. Fields of grey snow stretched into the darkness. ‘We’re nowhere,’ he said.

‘We’re in Humbledown.’ Hetty pointed to a sign, halfway down the platform. ‘We had to get away from it, Gabriel. Hopefully it doesn’t know we got out, but you’d better stand back, out of the light from the windows.’

Gabriel shuffled backwards into the shadows, and Hetty squinted at her watch in the weak beam from a lamp post. ‘Come on, Dad,’ she muttered.

‘Just now, you said IT,’ said Gabriel. ‘It?’

‘You know what I mean,’ said Hetty.

Gabriel nodded. ‘It smelled like something dead.’

‘I think it was, Gabriel.’ Hetty grimaced. ‘Dead but dangerous.’

Gabriel stared speechlessly at Hetty’s friendly face. And then, through the whine of the wind he caught the distinct sound of an engine.

‘Here he comes,’ said Hetty.

The engine noise was accompanied by a loud crunching sound, and then, between two rows of snow-laden hedges, a large vehicle rolled into view.

‘It’s a tractor,’ said Gabriel. For all that it was decked out in fairy lights, tinsel and holly, there was no denying that the big vehicle in the car park was a tractor.

‘Only thing in this weather,’ said Hetty. ‘Come on!’ She dashed to the end of the platform and began to descend the steps.

For a moment, Gabriel found himself gazing at the falling snow. There was something unusual about those elegantly dancing crystals. They seemed to be watching him.

He ran to the end of the platform and down the steps; there he found Hetty embracing a large man in a green boiler suit.

‘Gabriel!’ Releasing Hetty, the big man grabbed Gabriel’s hand and shook it so vigorously Gabriel thought his arm might fall off. ‘Fred Bean,’ the man said in a rumbly voice. ‘Pleased to meet one of the gifted ones, and one with SUCH a big responsibility.’

‘It’s only for a few days,’ said Gabriel, wondering how Fred Bean knew so much.

‘Indeed, but what a privilege.’

Unsure as to which of them was privileged, Gabriel allowed himself to be bundled up into the cab of the tractor. Hetty hauled herself after him, and Fred climbed into the driving seat. It was a bit of a squash, but at least they were dry.

The tractor bumped its way round the small parking area and then they were off, down the narrow lane, the snow thickening around them and the large wipers squeaking across the windscreen.

Fred Bean began to sing carols and Hetty explained that her father always did this for at least a month after Christmas. She invited Gabriel to join in. ‘Everyone knows a carol,’ she said cheerfully. And so they sang their way through the silent countryside with the wind whistling at their backs, and the headlights sweeping across glistening drifts of snow. Gabriel found that he felt completely safe with two people that he really didn’t know at all. He even forgot to ask where they were going until he saw the lights of a small town twinkling ahead of them. Behind the town, the lower slopes of a mountain could be seen, before it disappeared up into the dark sky.

‘Here we are, Meldon itself,’ Fred happily announced.

Gabriel suddenly realised he hadn’t told either of his rescuers where he wanted to go. ‘How did you know?’ he asked Hetty, who was squeezed into his side.

‘Cook,’ she said. ‘You might not have needed us at all, but your father rang her, just in case. And she did the rest.’

They were now rolling along Meldon High Street. The tractor made a difficult manoeuvre round a corner and then they were driving down a long steep road, with snow piled at the kerbs, and terraced houses with holly wreathes on their brightly painted doors. After the lonely wilderness of the fields, it was a surprise to see Christmas lights still twinkling in windows, and trees festooned with coloured globes and tinsel.

They came, at last, to three older buildings, timber-framed and roofed in lichen-covered slate.

‘Number twenty-nine, if I’m not mistaken,’ said Fred, bringing the tractor to a grinding halt. ‘The Carpenter’s Cabin.’

‘You knew the number.’ This time Gabriel wasn’t surprised.

‘Dad knows your uncle,’ said Hetty, climbing from the cab. ‘Jack Silk made him a table.’

‘A fine table,’ said Fred.

Gabriel thanked Fred for the lift and jumped out. Hetty followed him down the path to the front door, and waited while he rang the doorbell. His uncle’s Christmas wreath was hung with strong-smelling cloves and wrinkled tangerines. ‘Sadie’s work,’ Gabriel said with a grin. ‘My cousin,’ he told Hetty.

The door opened and there was Sadie, with the widest smile Gabriel had seen in a long while.

‘Gabriel!’ she shrieked and, flinging her arms round his neck, dragged him into the hall.

‘Hold on, Sadie,’ Gabriel said through slightly embarrassed giggles.

Sadie caught sight of Hetty, lingering on the doorstep. Releasing Gabriel with a squeak of surprise, she said, ‘Who are you?’

‘This is Hetty Bean, who rescued me,’ said Gabriel. He pointed to the tractor and added, ‘And that’s her dad, who brought us here!’

In a tractor,’ cried Sadie, delightedly. ‘Hetty, do you want some tea? And your dad, in the tractor, would he like some?’

Hetty shook her head. ‘I’ll just come in and make sure Gabriel’s safe.’

‘Of course he’s safe.’ Sadie led the way into the kitchen.

Uncle Jack gave Gabriel a hug and shook Hetty’s hand, and then Hetty gave a brief account of the stranger on the train, Albert’s disappearance and her role in Gabriel’s rescue.

Mr Silk looked concerned. ‘I don’t like the sound of this hooded stranger,’ he said. ‘What do you mean about his smell?’

Hetty struggled for an answer and Gabriel said, ‘He smelled like something rotten, you know, dead.’

‘And he knew you were the Keeper?’ asked his uncle.

Gabriel nervously pinched his nose and nodded. ‘He said I’d failed in my duty –’ he shrugged – ‘and then he vanished.’

‘Vanished? Just like that?’ Sadie raised her hands questioningly. ‘Pouff ! Into thin air?’

‘That’s just about it,’ Gabriel agreed.

‘Well!’ Mr Silk sighed. ‘Stranger things have happened, I suppose. These are mysterious times.’

‘Indeed,’ said Hetty.

Mr Silk wasn’t quite satisfied. ‘Wait,’ he said as Hetty turned to go. ‘So you’re a friend of the cook at Gabriel’s school?’

‘I’m the assistant cook,’ she admitted. ‘Sort of apprentice really, learning on the job. I love cooking. And then, because I live in Meldon, Cook recruited me, so to speak.’ Hetty began to look nervous. ‘This is my first assignment, and I hope I haven’t made a mess of it. I’ve done my best, I’m sure.’

Uncle Jack was still looking puzzled, so Hetty went on to explain that Cook had gathered together a group of people who could be trusted to watch out for vulnerable children. ‘Not that Gabriel is at all vulnerable,’ she added quickly. ‘But because of his great . . . responsibility, I was chosen to watch out for him, and his bag, of course. His designated companion, Albert Blackstaff, appeared to have deserted him.’

Uncle Jack stroked his chin and said, ‘I see.’ Gabriel noticed that his uncle looked very pale and anxious.

‘I think I am what is called a Guardian,’ said Hetty, now looking rather flustered.

Sadie suddenly piped up, ‘We should look in Gabriel’s bag. I mean, it is in your bag, isn’t it, Gabe? The great responsibility?’

‘The cloak, yes.’ Gabriel put his bag on the table and unzipped it. Everyone watched as he took out his father’s old jacket and unrolled it. There lay the folded cloak, glimmering softly under the kitchen light.

‘Wow!’ said Sadie. ‘All that magic lying on our old table.’

Gabriel grinned. He passed his hand over the velvet and felt – nothing. But it was surely the king’s cloak, just as it had been when his father had folded it into the jacket. ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘There it is.’ But was it? A chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong. He caught Sadie’s eye. She looked puzzled.

‘Thank goodness,’ said Hetty. ‘I thought perhaps I hadn’t been vigilant enough.’

‘All’s well, Hetty,’ said Mr Silk, looking very relieved, ‘and thank you for delivering our Gabriel.’

‘It was such an – an exciting experience,’ said Hetty beaming, ‘but I must dash now. Dad will be freezing. I’ll be up at Swallow Farm for a while – so if I’m needed . . .’

‘We know where to find you,’ said Mr Silk. He saw Hetty to the door and came back holding a black fur hat. ‘She gave me this,’ he said.

‘Albert Blackstaff ’s hat!’ Gabriel exclaimed. ‘Hetty put it in her pocket.’

‘That man should have told you he was leaving the train,’ said his uncle, frowning. ‘Your father will have something to say about this.’

Sadie took the hat from her father and hung it in the hall. ‘I’ve cooked your favourite supper,’ she told Gabriel when she came back. ‘But first I want to show you your room.’

Gabriel laid the cloak carefully in his bag and followed Sadie up the narrow staircase. At the top she led him along a corridor and into the low-ceilinged room he remembered so well. He was unprepared for all the glitter inside, however. Fairy lights hung from the wide oak beams, tinsel decorated the window frames and holly had been slung across the bed’s headboard.

‘Wow!’ said Gabriel.

‘It’s still Christmas,’ Sadie explained.

‘It looks great.’ Gabriel put his bag on the bed.

Sadie grinned and flicked her long pigtail over her shoulder. ‘I’ll go and warm up the casserole.’

‘Can you wait a minute?’ Gabriel drew the cloak out of his bag. ‘Something’s not right.’

Sadie hovered in the doorway. ‘Not right?’

‘Sometimes, when I’m feeling a bit down,’ said Gabriel, ‘I put the cloak on. Dad doesn’t mind. And the cloak always changes my mood.’

‘Do you feel like the king is there, with you?’ Sadie hesitated. ‘I know you can sometimes become other people when you put on their clothes. But the king? That would be amazing.’

‘Sometimes I see him, but mostly I just feel a great happiness. Not an ordinary happiness, but something very, very powerful.’ As he said this Gabriel drew the cloak around his shoulders. ‘Oh, Sadie,’ he groaned, ‘it’s gone. There’s nothing – nothing.’

Sadie pulled back her pigtail and regarded it with a thoughtful expression, almost as though it were giving her ideas. ‘Maybe it was the journey,’ she suggested. ‘All that shaking about and travelling so far from where the cloak has been living.’

‘But I don’t feel anything, Sadie. The cloak looks just the same but . . .’ he hesitated. ‘I can’t reach its power. I . . . I can’t sense anything.’

‘Then perhaps it’s you,’ Sadie suggested.

Gabriel was silent. Not once, since he was four years old, had he ever lost his seventh sense. He had often wished to be free of it, but now, when it was so vital to know what had happened to the cloak, had his seventh sense abandoned him?

‘To tell the truth, it does seem a bit – not quite itself, if you know what I mean,’ Sadie admitted.

Gabriel nodded dumbly.

‘Come and have some supper,’ Sadie suggested. ‘You’ll feel better after you’ve had some food, and then you can try again.’

‘OK,’ Gabriel said uneasily. He laid the cloak carefully on his bed

‘By the way, if you think Dad’s a bit down, it’s Cecily, the sorceress. She swooped in on us at dawn this morning.’

‘Not the awful stepmother?’ said Gabriel, deeply sympathetic. ‘And was Septimus the septic mouse with her?’

Sadie nodded. ‘And brother dog. Come on, let’s forget them.’

Mr Silk had returned to his workroom, but when he smelled cooking he came back into the kitchen. ‘Cold weather always makes you extra hungry,’ he said.

Sadie’s casserole was as delicious as usual, but Gabriel couldn’t enjoy it because of a nagging worry about the cloak. Halfway through the meal he decided to try to contact his parents.

‘Bad signal here,’ said his uncle. ‘Try the landline when you’ve finished your supper.’

Gabriel bolted down the last chunk of chicken and then phoned his father’s mobile. No answer. He tried his aunt’s house and one of his cousins picked up the receiver – the youngest, by the sound of it. When Gabriel asked to speak to his mother the little voice chirped, ‘Your mum is having a crisis!’

‘Crisis?’ Gabriel said hoarsely. ‘What d’you mean crisis?’

‘It’s bad,’ said the squeaky voice.

Gabriel’s stomach lurched. ‘I want to speak to my mum, Annie!’

‘I’m Alice.’ She sounded offended.

‘Well, Alice, PLEASE can you get –’

The receiver must have been snatched out of Alice’s hand, because, to Gabriel’s great relief, his mother said, ‘Gabriel, love, are you all right?’

‘Yes, yes. I got here, Mum. Why are you having a crisis?’

‘Oh, Gabriel, it’s dreadful. We’ve only just heard about poor Albert. They rang us from the hospital. And you went all that way alone.’ Mrs Silk spoke very fast, on she went, and Gabriel could only stand there, listening to his mother’s jerky sentences in bewilderment. ‘Oh, Gabriel, love, are you all right? And the – you-know-what? Dad is so concerned. He’s already in Belgium, but he wants to get back as soon as he can.’

Gabriel shook his head and turned a frowning face to Sadie and his uncle.

‘Gabe, what’s wrong?’ Sadie jumped up and came over to him.

Mrs Silk was still rattling on, and Gabriel had to speak over her to say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mum. Albert was on the train.’

This brought Mrs Silk to a dramatic halt. Gabriel heard a gasp, then silence. His troubled face brought his uncle to the phone. Taking the receiver from Gabriel, he said, ‘What’s up, Kate?’

More bubbling chatter from Mrs Silk. Gabriel and Sadie retreated to the table and sat down, but even at a distance Gabriel could hear the hysteria in his mother’s voice. At length, his uncle said, ‘That’s dreadful. A vicious attack, you say? Let us know if anything . . . you know. Yes, Gabriel is quite safe.’

There was another burst of sound from the phone, and Mr Silk said, ‘Calm down, Kate. We have the cloak. If this false Albert tried to take it, he didn’t succeed. Yes, yes. Goodbye, Kate.

‘Bad news,’ Mr Silk told the children. ‘The real Albert Blackstaff was found in the toilets at Euston Station. Unconscious, his hands tied, in a stall locked from the inside. So you were accompanied by an imposter, Gabriel.’

‘He’s not going to die, is he, the real Albert?’ cried Sadie.

‘No, no,’ said her father, ‘and the cloak is safe, so . . .’ He attempted a smile. ‘It is safe, isn’t it, Gabriel?’

Gabriel stared grimly at his uncle. ‘No, it’s not safe,’ he said. He ran up to his room and lifted the cloak into his arms. It looked so familiar, so very like the one he knew, and yet, now, when he held it, the velvet gave him nothing, no warmth, no comfort. This cloak was cold and heavy, as though it had been made by someone without a heart. Holding it as far from his body as he could, he went back to the kitchen. ‘It’s the wrong one,’ he said. ‘I knew it.’

‘Looks like the cloak I remember,’ said his uncle.

‘Well, someone has made another one, just like the original. Someone who knew exactly what it looked like.’ Gabriel tried not to sound panicky, but he couldn’t stop his voice from rising like the whine of an anguished dog. ‘The false Albert must have swapped the cloaks while I was getting tea. And then he got off the train.’ Gabriel threw the loathsome garment on the floor and sank into a chair.

They all stared at the cloak, twinkling deceptively, even in shadow. Mr Silk picked it up. ‘If this isn’t the real thing, someone’s done an incredible job.’

Gabriel shook his head, and went on shaking it, until Sadie told him it might fall off.

‘I lost it,’ Gabriel said dismally. ‘The king’s cloak. What happens now, Uncle Jack? I mean, you’re from the family of Keepers, too.’

Gabriel’s uncle looked worried, and it was Sadie who said they would just have to find the cloak, wouldn’t they. ‘Where did the false Albert leave the train?’ she asked.

Gabriel screwed up his eyes, trying to remember. But he hadn’t noticed the name of the station, only that it had been the last stop before they got off at Humbledown.

‘Hmm,’ Sadie said thoughtfully. ‘The one before Humbledown is Howgrave. That doesn’t help much, I suppose. It’s a big town. So he could be anywhere by now.’ She glanced at her father. He looked utterly downcast.

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