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wind of us in the first place.”
    â€œSo if we can raise her ghost, we can speak to her.” Jenny knew that they had to reach Mrs Garland somehow.
    â€œOK,” said David doubtfully. “We can try.” He opened the window again and the twins leant out into the storm-laden night. The river had risen until it was almost level with the wharf and Mrs Garland’s stout and sensible shoes. But ghosts can’t drown, thought Jenny.
    Concentrating as hard as they could, the twins focused their minds on Mrs Garland’s spectre. As they did so, they both felt a sharp pain that seemed to penetrate their very beings, and then the commanding words came into their minds.
    Who are you? What do you want?
    We want to help you
. Jenny was anxious to be as direct as she could.
    We want to find May and Leslie
, David urged her.
    Why?
    Jenny focused as hard as she could.
They’re in trouble
.
    They’re dead
, came the reply in their minds. You must leave them alone. It’s too dangerous. Too dangerous.
    No
. David was exerting every inch of his will.
They need help
.
    The communication was like a beam, a force that was slowly building inside them.
    As the twins’ willpower intensified, so did the pain that probed their minds, sharp as a needle, searching out the truth.
    Suddenly, there was a snapping sound and Mrs Garland’s spectre vanished.
    â€œShe’s gone,” said David miserably. “We failed.”
    â€œShe’ll come back,” replied Jenny confidently. “At least, I hope she will.”
    â€œShe was warning us off,” said David.
    â€œBut we
can’t be
warned off,” Jenny insisted. “There’s Sid – we’ve got to think of him and why the kids need him.”
    â€œDo you think she’ll come back again tonight?” asked David.
    â€œIf she does, we’ve got to get through to her.”
    â€œAnd if she doesn’t, we’ve got to get through that awful tunnel.”
    â€œWe’ll have to do that anyway,” replied Jenny firmly.
    â€œWhat’s up with you two?” asked Mrs Golding over breakfast the next morning. “You look done in.”
    â€œI didn’t sleep that well,” David told his mother guardedly.
    â€œNeither did I,” said Jenny casually. “Don’t know why.”
    But Mrs Golding was suspicious. They had told their parents that they were visiting Sid in hospital, and although their father had been all for it, she had been uneasy.
    â€œIt’s nothing to do with that old tramp, is it?” she asked.
    â€œYou mean Sid Lennox,” said David defensively.
    â€œI mean that old tramp.” Mrs Golding was a forthright woman and once she’d got her teeth into a subject, she worried at it like a terrier. She disapproved of Sid and was frightened of what he might do to her children. “I wish you wouldn’t see him.”
    â€œHe’s sick, Mum,” said David reproachfully.
    â€œBut he’ll be looked after by the hospital. And there are hostels,” she countered vaguely.
    â€œHe won’t go into them.” David was getting angry.
    â€œThere’s nothing you can do about that, though,” said their mother, crunching toast.
    Jenny quickly intervened, knowing that her brother would lose his temper at any moment and a blinding row would follow.
    â€œWe’re helping the hospital to get Sid into a hostel. We won’t get into trouble, I promise.”
    Mrs Golding trusted her daughter’s judgement far more than her son’s and she decided to back off. Besides, the last thing she wanted was an argument with David, for she knew all too well how stubborn he could be.
    â€œI suppose you’re going to see him this morning?”
    â€œThat’s right,” David muttered. “And I’m missing football.”
    It must be important, thought Mrs Golding, and became even more concerned.

Chapter Seven
    â€œHe’s