She picked up a handful of pictures and began leafing through. There were a great many of her mother and herself, at various stages through their lives. She smiled to see herself as a chubby toddler, her face smeared with ice cream, and then years later waving to the camera from a carousel at a fairground.

There were several pictures of her parents' wedding day. Tanya put them all to one side. She scowled when she came across photos of Fabian and Warwick, immediately tossing them back into the box. Soon she fell into a routine of filing each picture into categories, and only then did she notice a significant majority in one particular area: herself. For the first time, she realised that she couldn't remember ever seeing a picture of herself on display at her grandmother's house. None of them had ever been framed and mounted on the wall in the sitting room alongside Fabian's or her mother's. They were all here, in a box that had been hidden away in a musty old cupboard.

An hour later the carpet was strewn with photographs. Tanya found herself distracted each time she came across one of the many photographs of her grandfather, who had died before she was born. He looked a happy, jolly man with twinkling eyes, and Tanya wished again that she had had a chance to know him.

She sighed and picked up the next dog-eared picture, disinterested until she realised that it was of her grandmother, taken when she was not much older than Tanya was now. But then Tanya began to frown. Florence was not alone in the photograph. The sepia picture was of two girls, standing side by side in front of the gate in the back garden. A young Florence smiled into the camera, happy and carefree. Next to her stood a strikingly pretty girl of about the same age with long black hair. Tanya stared into her dark eyes and recognised her immediately. She flipped the photograph over. Something was written on the back.

Florence and Morwenna aged fourteen.

Her heart began to pound and her breathing became shallow. There was no mistaking it. The girl in the photograph was the same girl that she and Fabian had seen in Hangman's Wood the day they were lost. It didn't make sense.

The girl in the forest was Morwenna Bloom . . . her grandmother's childhood best friend who had been missing for more than fifty years.

Tanya scrambled to the door, sliding on the piles of photographs scattered everywhere. She ran downstairs and outside into the back garden. The night air was warm and balmy, yet her teeth had begun to chatter.

'Fabian! Are you out here?'

For a few seconds she heard nothing, then there was a faint rustle from the oak tree.

'Fabian!' she called, louder this time. 'I need to speak to you.'

'So now you want to talk!' crowed Fabian, popping his head out from the branches. 'I thought you preferred talking to yourself?'

'I'm serious! This is serious!'

The urgency in her voice told Fabian she was not messing around. He climbed down lazily, by which time Tanya was shivering uncontrollably.

'What is it?' he asked.

Wordlessly, she handed him the photograph.

'So? It's Florence . . . only less wrinkly.'

'Not her. The other one,' said Tanya.

Fabian's face went white. 'The girl . . . that girl . . . in the woods . . . but we spoke to her . . .'

'There's more.' Tanya s.n.a.t.c.hed the photograph and pointed to the name on the back. 'It's her. The missing girl.'

'It can't be,' said Fabian. 'It was fifty years ago. It's impossible. There must be some logical explanation.'

They stared at the photograph. There was no doubt in Tanya's mind that the girl standing with her grandmother was the same girl they had seen in the woods, and the expression on Fabian's face told her he was just as convinced as she.

Fabian looked troubled. 'There's . . . there's something I have to tell you.'

'What?' she asked weakly.

'Fabian!' Warwick's voice echoed in the hallway.

'Not here,' Fabian said. 'Meet me on the second-floor landing in half an hour.'

10.

HE NEXT THIRTY MINUTES SEEMED the longest of Tanya's life. After Fabian left to find his father, she slipped the photograph into her pocket and walked to the stairs in a detached, trance-like state, feeling as if she were trapped in a dream that she couldn't wake from. Only it wasn't a dream. It was real and it was scaring her.

Her mind was racing. Who was Morwenna Bloom? What had really happened to her that night in the woods? And what else did Fabian know about her disappearance?

As she crept up the stairs she heard her grandmother cough over the sound of the television in the living room. She went to her room and sat in silence, the time crawling immensely. After twenty minutes had elapsed, the floorboards outside her door creaked as someone stepped over them. Tanya edged towards the door and listened. There was nothing. No footsteps, no voices. Opening the door just a tiny crack, she peered out onto the empty landing.

'Fabian?'

Only silence answered her. She slipped out of the room, deciding to head up to the second floor. Fabian should be along any minute soon.

All was quiet on the second floor of the house, though this did nothing to quell her nerves. She made her way to the darkened alcove with the tapestry concealing the servants' staircase and sat down, waiting.

Seconds after she had sunk into the chair, a door flew open at the other end of the landing. Slow, unsteady footsteps came padding in her direction. She did not have to see the person to know it was Amos; the laboured breathing that grew louder with every step confirmed it was him. She watched from the alcove as the old man's elongated shadow stretched before her, edging forward until his stooped frame came into view.

She was not prepared for the sight of him. Since the last time she had seen him he seemed to have aged more than a decade. His face was sunken, his cheeks hollow and his body wizened. He had several days' worth of grey stubble and many years' worth of scraggy white hair. He moved with difficulty, his mad eyes fixed and staring. He did not see Tanya, motionless in the shadows. She did not even realise she had been holding her breath until he pa.s.sed her, slamming the bathroom door, and it was then the thought occurred to her how odd it was for someone so frail-looking to have so much pent up aggression.

'Tanya! Over here,' came Fabian's voice.

Tanya eased herself out of the chair cautiously, hardly daring to move.

'Where are you?'

'Over here, quickly!'

His voice was coming from a gloomy corridor just beyond the bathroom. Hastily, Tanya tiptoed past, knowing that any second Amos could open the door and see her. She found Fabian waiting anxiously behind a door adjacent to the bathroom.

'In here,' he said, opening the door wider for her to step through. He closed it just as the toilet in the bathroom flushed.

'Why are we standing in the dark?' Tanya asked, her eyes flitting about nervously.

'Quiet,' Fabian whispered. They listened to the floorboards creaking as Amos went back to his room. Once Tanya's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she glanced about the room. It had not been used in some time. There was no carpet or curtains and the light bulb was bare. The only furniture was a rickety bed and a crooked old wardrobe with one door.

'Why are we in the dark?' Tanya repeated, still shivering slightly. She could not seem to get warm.

'Because we're not supposed to be up here,' said Fabian. 'If I put the light on it could be seen from under the door or through the window.' He sat down on the floor, motioning for Tanya to do the same.

'What's going on?' she said.

Fabian closed his eyes tightly. 'The newspaper cutting you found what exactly did it say?'

'I told you,' said Tanya.

'Tell me again.'

'It said that a fourteen-year-old girl called Morwenna Bloom went missing in Hangman's Wood and everyone thought she had fallen into the catacombs. Oh, and that she was a reverend's daughter.'

'That's all?'

'It's all I can remember.'

'It didn't mention anything about a boy . . . who saw her?'

Tanya went quiet for a moment.

'Yes,' she admitted at last. 'I remember now. There was something about a local boy. It said he was the last person ever to see her and that she was standing by the catacombs. Then it said he was questioned by the police but released without charge.' She stopped and watched Fabian in the muted moonlight streaming in through the window. His pale face was troubled.

'What's all this about, Fabian? Do you know who he was?'

Fabian lowered his head and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

'Yes. Only I wish I didn't. It . . . it was my grandfather. It was Amos.'

A terrible silence hung in the air. Outside, an owl hooted. Downstairs, a door slammed in the hallway.

'Fabian!' Warwick bellowed.

Tanya glanced at Fabian in alarm. He held a finger to his lips, his eyes glittering in the dim light.

'Fabian!'

Footsteps thundered on the first-floor staircase. A door slammed. Then another.

'What does he want?' said Tanya. 'He only saw you a few minutes ago!'

'Don't worry,' said Fabian. 'He won't come up here.'

The creaking of the second-floor staircase told them he was wrong. Keys jangled and more doors opened and slammed shut. Warwick's voice grew nearer and angrier.

'FABIAN!'

Amos began to shriek in his room, disrupted by the noise.

'Get under the bed!' Fabian hissed.

The two of them scrambled beneath the low bed with difficulty and huddled together. The floorboards in the narrow s.p.a.ce underneath were coated in a heavy layer of dust and, to Tanya's horror, an enormous black spider lurked in a cobweb right in front of her face.

'I can't stay under here!'

'We don't have any other option!' Fabian said fiercely.

'But-'

'Quiet!'

Tanya bit her lip and forced her eyes away. A broken spring dug into her head and tangled in her hair, and she could smell the musty dampness of the mattress above. It smelled like it had been peed on, but whether by animal or human Tanya could not tell. Fabian tensed up beside her as Warwick entered the room next to them, leaving seconds later. His footsteps drew nearer. Tanya's breath caught in her throat as Warwick slowly, deliberately paused outside. The door swung open violently and the light from the hallway streamed in.

Warwick entered the room breathing heavily, coming so close to their hiding place that Tanya could see the clumps of mud on his boots. He snapped on the light switch. Fortunately it was broken. He swore and turned it off again, taking another slow step towards the bed. It was then that Tanya knew what it was to be paralysed by fear. All she could feel was her heart thudding in her ribcage, pounding erratically until she was convinced she could hear it. For a split second, the ridiculous notion that Warwick too could hear it entered her mind. She waited, not even daring to breathe; expecting any minute now for him to kneel down and see them. Instead he turned abruptly and left, banging the door behind him.

Tanya released the breath she had been holding and felt Fabian sag with relief next to her. They listened as Warwick strode across the landing from room to room, checking each one. Eventually he went downstairs, where his footsteps faded altogether. All that was left for them to hear was Amos's ranting.

Tanya eased herself out from under the bed, glad that Warwick was safely out of the way for the time being. Fabian, however, did not look at all relieved. He raked a hand through his straw-coloured hair nervously.

'We don't have much time. He won't stop looking until he finds me.'

'Hurry up and tell me what this is about, then,' said Tanya, her teeth starting to chatter.

'All right,' said Fabian, looking uncomfortable. 'Here goes. On . . . on the evening Morwenna disappeared, n.o.body was concerned when she was a little later to return home than usual. She'd lived in these parts all her life and she knew the woods well enough not to get lost in them, or so everybody thought. It was only when it started to get dark that her parents began to worry, because Morwenna hated the dark and never stayed out after nightfall.

'When they found she wasn't with Florence, they panicked. They got a search party together of friends and neighbours, and went into the woods to look for her, thinking that maybe she had hurt herself and was unable to make her own way back.

'After hours of searching the hunt was abandoned. The next day rescuers were lowered into the catacombs to search for her, but there was no sign. Then the police had a tip-off. A churchgoer had seen Morwenna entering the woods on the evening of her disappearance with a lad a couple of years older than her.'

Fabian paused. 'Amos fitted the description exactly. He was even wearing the same clothes when they came for him.' He stopped speaking and looked down at his hands. Tanya followed his gaze and noticed for the first time that his fingernails were bitten back.

'They questioned him,' said Fabian. 'They wanted to know why he hadn't come forward. He told them he was scared of what people might think, what they might say. He said he had been pa.s.sing through the woods and seen her, but that was all there was to it. He didn't know any more than anyone else. In the end they had to release him, they had no evidence to link him to her disappearance otherwise.

'As for Morwenna, well . . . you know the rest. It was like she just vanished off the face of the earth. Her family moved away a few years later, when it was clear she wasn't coming back. And things changed for Amos after that, too. People began to avoid him.'

'But why?' Tanya asked. 'You said there was no evidence against him.'

'That doesn't stop people talking, or insinuating, or accusing. There were rumours, suggestions that he was involved somehow that he'd pushed her . . . or killed her first then disposed of her body in the catacombs.'

'But why?' Tanya asked. 'What would his motive be?'

'It was common knowledge that Amos had . . . had a thing for her. They'd been seeing each other for a few weeks, apparently. But Morwenna had broken it off and broken his heart.' Fabian hung his head miserably. 'People thought he was angry and frustrated, that he might have followed her, tried to get her to change her mind. Maybe they had a fight. Or maybe he wanted . . . he tried to . . . oh, I don't know. I don't know.'

But he did know and so did Tanya. But neither of them wanted to say it.

'For the people of Tickey End an accusation was just as good as proof because an accusation sticks. People will always look at you wondering if there's a possibility you really did do it.'

'Why didn't he just leave?' said Tanya. 'Move away and start over again?'

'Why should he?' said Fabian. 'Why should he leave when he did nothing wrong?' His voice faltered. 'Besides, it would only have fuelled the rumours. He didn't want to be seen to be running away.' He looked into Tanya's face, his eyes pleading for understanding.

'Can you imagine how it must feel to have people look at you, wondering if you're a killer? Can you imagine how Warwick must have felt, growing up known as the son of a murderer? I've seen the looks he gets from people in Tickey End. All his life he's had to put up with the stares . . . and the comments. They still talk about it, even now.'

It was a terrible thought. A small part of Tanya suddenly pitied Warwick. No wonder he was so curt and unfriendly. People had made him that way. And now she could see why Fabian never brought any friends back to the manor no one wanted to be a.s.sociated with those living there.

'Amos never found another job after that. n.o.body wanted to employ him. That's why he ended up staying at Elvesden Manor for so many years. When he eventually married, it was to a Danish girl called Elsa who didn't speak much English, and the marriage only lasted until just after Warwick was born. As soon as she heard the rumours she left, leaving him to raise my father alone. And now he grows older and madder with every day.'