who do you make?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ I said.
Gino wagged his finger. ‘You’ll run out of time!’
‘I’ll get my sister to help me,’ I said, hoping the mention of Alice would jog his memory of the other girl. ‘She’s always got good ideas.’ I pointed to some
jars behind the counter. ‘Can I have a pound’s worth of rhubarb and custards, too, please?’
Gino beamed and weighed out the sweets, giving me an extra one ‘for luck’ as he always did. ‘Your sister, she is in here earlier,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I ask
her who she make for the Summoning, but she act like she don’t know what I’m a-talking about. Like she never hear of the Summoning before.’
My heart quickened. The real Alice knew all about it, as did everyone else who lived in Fiddler’s Hollow. It had to be Gypsy.
‘Then she ask me directions,’ Gino continued. ‘Very strange.’
‘Directions to where?’
‘The library,’ said Gino. ‘So I tell her, then I ask if she is a-feeling all right.’ He scratched his beard. ‘She say yes and give me a funny look, and that she
just got lost. And the strangest thing is, she don’t speak. She write everything in a notebook and show me.’ He shrugged. ‘And so I think to myself that maybe she is playing a
trick on me. And I have a busy morning, so I forget about it until you come in.’
I paid him and left, turning out of Cuckoo Lane. If I hurried to the library, perhaps I could find her. I headed for the town centre. Saturdays were always busy, but the weekend of the Summoning
saw it packed out, the square near the town hall especially. The library was at the back of the town hall and, as I neared its huge doors, I slowed a little. They were shut and the board displaying
the library’s opening hours confirmed it had closed fifteen minutes ago.
I felt a little of the wind leave my sails. My first lead and I’d lost it! I shrugged the bag higher up my back. There were still other clues and my biggest one was the notebook. If there
were anything else I needed to know about Gypsy, I’d find it there. Plus, I had another place in mind that I wanted to go – but there, instead of Gypsy, I would be looking for
Alice.
I cut through the centre of town to the church, taking the path that wove through the gravestones. At the back of the churchyard, there was an overgrown mass of trees and shrubs. I stopped,
taking a quick look about to make sure no one was watching me, before pushing through a gap in the greenery. Twigs and leaves brushed against my cheeks as I crawled between them, the winter ground
dampening my hands and knees.
The Den was a short way in and a bit of a scramble through what appeared to be a dense thicket. Once you were through, though, there was a hollow space like a leafy cave beyond. It was
completely hidden from view and, if you were quiet enough, no one would ever know you were there. Alice had shown me the spot a couple of years ago, but made me promise not to tell anyone.
I came to a halt and spat out a leaf, searching the ground for any sign that someone had been here recently. Last year, Alice and Mum had argued and Alice had stormed out of the house. She
hadn’t returned until the next afternoon and wouldn’t say where she’d been, but the next time I came to the Den I found Alice’s name traced over and over in the soil. Later,
she told me she’d been there all night.
Now, however, there was no sign of her at all. I reached into my bag and popped a rhubarb and custard into my mouth, then took out Alice’s phone and notebook. I tried the phone first
– perhaps there was a message on there, or maybe a call from someone Alice had gone to meet? I was quickly disappointed, for the phone was locked with a password to stop anyone from looking
at it. I put it back in the bag, frustrated, then opened the notebook.
It was hard to see in the gloom, but I remembered the pocket torch and shone it at the paper. There were
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ I said.
Gino wagged his finger. ‘You’ll run out of time!’
‘I’ll get my sister to help me,’ I said, hoping the mention of Alice would jog his memory of the other girl. ‘She’s always got good ideas.’ I pointed to some
jars behind the counter. ‘Can I have a pound’s worth of rhubarb and custards, too, please?’
Gino beamed and weighed out the sweets, giving me an extra one ‘for luck’ as he always did. ‘Your sister, she is in here earlier,’ he said, his smile fading. ‘I ask
her who she make for the Summoning, but she act like she don’t know what I’m a-talking about. Like she never hear of the Summoning before.’
My heart quickened. The real Alice knew all about it, as did everyone else who lived in Fiddler’s Hollow. It had to be Gypsy.
‘Then she ask me directions,’ Gino continued. ‘Very strange.’
‘Directions to where?’
‘The library,’ said Gino. ‘So I tell her, then I ask if she is a-feeling all right.’ He scratched his beard. ‘She say yes and give me a funny look, and that she
just got lost. And the strangest thing is, she don’t speak. She write everything in a notebook and show me.’ He shrugged. ‘And so I think to myself that maybe she is playing a
trick on me. And I have a busy morning, so I forget about it until you come in.’
I paid him and left, turning out of Cuckoo Lane. If I hurried to the library, perhaps I could find her. I headed for the town centre. Saturdays were always busy, but the weekend of the Summoning
saw it packed out, the square near the town hall especially. The library was at the back of the town hall and, as I neared its huge doors, I slowed a little. They were shut and the board displaying
the library’s opening hours confirmed it had closed fifteen minutes ago.
I felt a little of the wind leave my sails. My first lead and I’d lost it! I shrugged the bag higher up my back. There were still other clues and my biggest one was the notebook. If there
were anything else I needed to know about Gypsy, I’d find it there. Plus, I had another place in mind that I wanted to go – but there, instead of Gypsy, I would be looking for
Alice.
I cut through the centre of town to the church, taking the path that wove through the gravestones. At the back of the churchyard, there was an overgrown mass of trees and shrubs. I stopped,
taking a quick look about to make sure no one was watching me, before pushing through a gap in the greenery. Twigs and leaves brushed against my cheeks as I crawled between them, the winter ground
dampening my hands and knees.
The Den was a short way in and a bit of a scramble through what appeared to be a dense thicket. Once you were through, though, there was a hollow space like a leafy cave beyond. It was
completely hidden from view and, if you were quiet enough, no one would ever know you were there. Alice had shown me the spot a couple of years ago, but made me promise not to tell anyone.
I came to a halt and spat out a leaf, searching the ground for any sign that someone had been here recently. Last year, Alice and Mum had argued and Alice had stormed out of the house. She
hadn’t returned until the next afternoon and wouldn’t say where she’d been, but the next time I came to the Den I found Alice’s name traced over and over in the soil. Later,
she told me she’d been there all night.
Now, however, there was no sign of her at all. I reached into my bag and popped a rhubarb and custard into my mouth, then took out Alice’s phone and notebook. I tried the phone first
– perhaps there was a message on there, or maybe a call from someone Alice had gone to meet? I was quickly disappointed, for the phone was locked with a password to stop anyone from looking
at it. I put it back in the bag, frustrated, then opened the notebook.
It was hard to see in the gloom, but I remembered the pocket torch and shone it at the paper. There were
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