When I reached the castle, Weseley was sitting on the stairs-my stairs. He was wearing blue jeans, a black T-shirt with a blue skull on it and blue trainers. Even in the daylight he was cool.

He looked up and pulled his earphones out. ‘He can come tomorrow at ten.’

There was no hello or anything. I was a little put out.

‘Oh. Great, thanks.’ I waited for him to stand up and flutter away, like a little pigeon who’d delivered its message, but he stayed. ‘Actually, could he come at ten fifteen, just in case Rosaleen is delayed leaving?’

‘Yeah, sure, I’ll tell him.’

‘Okay, great, thanks,’ I repeated.

He still didn’t leave and so I stepped in further and leaned against the wall directly opposite him.

‘Do you know the woman who lives in the bungalow?’

‘Rosaleen’s mother? I saw her the first week we moved but not since then. She doesn’t really go out much. She’s old. I think she’s got Alzheimer’s or something.’

‘Have you ever been to her house?’

‘I’ve dropped a few things over for Arthur. Firewood, coal, some furniture, that kind of thing. But Rosaleen always escorts me on and off the premises.’ He smiled. ‘It’s not as if there’s anything over there to steal, if that’s what she’s worried about.’

‘Well she’s worried about something. So Arthur never goes over to the bungalow himself…’ I thought aloud. ‘They mustn’t get along. I wonder why.’

‘Check you out, Nancy Drew. Or how about, I’m now Arthur’s dogsbody so he couldn’t be arsed carrying over dodgy rocking chairs to his mother-in-law when he’s paying me next to nothing to do it for him.’

‘But he never even visits her.’

‘You’re really looking for something, aren’t you?’

It reminded me of what Sister Ignatius had said about my mind doing unusual things when it searches. She had known before I did that I was looking for something.

‘It’s just that…’ I thought about it, ‘to be perfectly honest, I’m so bored here.’ I laughed. ‘If I had some sort of life, or friends, or someone to talk to then I wouldn’t be making something out of nothing. I wouldn’t care about Rosaleen and her secrets.’

‘What secrets?’ he laughed. ‘Rosaleen doesn’t have secrets. She just doesn’t understand the art of conversation. She’s so used to spending time on her own, I don’t think she knows to offer information about herself.’

‘I know that, and I had thought of that, but…’

‘But what?’

I don’t know how or why but I suddenly started telling him about everything about the past few days. All the odd conversations, the missing photo album, Arthur’s unusual comment about thinking Mum didn’t want to see him, the way Rosaleen couldn’t stand for me to be in the room with anyone on my own without her there, Rosaleen failing to mention me in her conversation with Sister Ignatius, Sister Ignatius wanting me to ask Rosaleen questions, the comment about Mum lying, Rosaleen wanting to keep Mum up in the room all the time, the secretive way she disappears to the bungalow and not wanting me to cross over, what I’d seen in the back garden, the tray being left on the wall, the argument about not wanting to put our belongings in the garage.

He listened patiently, making enough reactions to encourage me to keep going and not to hold back.

‘Okay…’ he said as soon as I’d finished. ‘That all does sound a little odd, and I get how you can be really suspicious but it could probably all be explained too. Just by the fact that Rosaleen is a bit of a weirdo-no offence,’ he said quickly. ‘I know she’s your aunt.’

‘No offence taken.’

‘I’m not really here long enough to know anybody properly but Rosaleen doesn’t really speak to anybody in the town. Whenever my mam passes her, she always puts her head down and walks on. I don’t know if she’s just shy or what it is. And about how she is with you, what does she know about being a mother? But that’s not to say that you’re not right Tamara. There could be something they’re keeping from you. I don’t know what the hell that could be, but if anything else weird happens, tell me.’

‘Something else hugely weird is happening,’ I said.

My heart drummed. I couldn’t believe I was going to tell him about the diary. I just wanted him to believe me so much.

‘Tell me.’

‘You’ll think I’m psychotic.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Just please believe me that I’m not lying.’

‘Okay. Tell me,’ he said, getting impatient.

I told him about the diary.

He quite understandably leaned back from me, folded his arms, all body language the equivalent to a computer shutting down. Oh God. He looked at me differently. Never mind the face change when I’d told him dad had died, this was on a whole new level. The guy thought I was a nut.

‘Weseley,’ I began, but I didn’t know what else to say.

‘Yoo-hoo,’ a voice called suddenly and Weseley snapped out of it and looked towards the doorway. A beautiful blonde entered. She looked directly at him, not noticing me along the wall.

‘Ashley,’ he said, surprised, ‘you’re early.’

‘I know, sorry, blame the excitement of wanting to see you. I brought a blanket.’ She shimmied the basket in her hand. She rushed towards him and dropped the basket by their feet, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and not in a sisterly way. I felt a surprising twinge of envy, which I shrugged off. As though she’d sensed herself being shrugged off, she opened her eyes and saw me standing there, arms folded, bored with their display.

‘Cute PDA but I’m bored now. Can I go?’

Weseley broke their embrace and turned to me with a smile.

‘Who are you?’ She looked at me like I was a bad smell. ‘Who is she?’ she asked him.

‘I’m his secret lover. We love to do it in old castles fully clothed while I’m leaning against the wall and he’s sitting on the stairs on the other side of the room. It’s tough but we love a challenge. Kinky. Later, lover,’ I winked at him while walking to the door.

‘That’s Tamara,’ I heard him say as I left the castle. ‘She’s just a friend.’

She’s just a friend. Four words that could possibly kill any woman, but, they made me smile. Not only had my freakish rendition of the weirdest story you could ever be told in your life failed to send him charging at me with a torch, wanting to burn me at the stake, but also here in this place, I had made a friend.

And the castle was my witness.

‘Tamara,’ I heard him calling just as the house was coming into view. I took a few steps back, moved closer to the trees so that a peeping Rosaleen wouldn’t see us talking.

He was out of breath by the time he got to me.

‘About the diary thing…’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry, forget it-’

‘I want to believe you, but I don’t.’

I was both complimented and insulted at the same time.

‘But if you tell me what’s going to happen tomorrow, and then it happens, then I’ll believe you. That makes sense, doesn’t it?’

I nodded.

‘If you’re right, then I’ll help you do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.’

I smiled.

‘But if you’re making this up,’ he shook his head and he looked at me oddly again, ‘then you know…’

‘I know. Then you’d like to be my boyfriend. I understand.’

He laughed. ‘So what’s going to happen?’

‘I haven’t read it yet.’

I’d left the house last night before the entry had arrived in the diary and I’d been so busy all morning with my missions that I hadn’t had time to read the diary.

He looked doubtful. I mean, even I barely believed myself and I knew I wasn’t lying.

‘I’ll read it when I get back to the house and then I’ll call you later. Or will you be home? I don’t want to disturb you and Yoo-hoo.’

He laughed. ‘All right, call me later.’ He started to leave, ‘But by the way, she’s not my girlfriend.’

‘Sure she’s not,’ I called back.

Once in the house I made a point of sitting with Arthur and Rosaleen in the lounge, pretending to read the book Fiona had given me. Then I could wait no longer. I yawned, stretched and excused myself from the room and went upstairs. I removed the diary from underneath the floorboard, moved the chair up against the door again and sat down. I opened the book in hope more than expectation, hoping the new entry had arrived in the early hours of the morning.