Friday dawned bright and clear. Ed Clifton jolted awake and rolled over to look at the clock beside the bed. It was just after seven. He’d only had a few hours’ sleep as his mind had been racing all night. He had replayed the discoveries he’d made downstairs, and kept wondering ‘how?’ and even more urgently ‘who?’.

Of the sixty-eight paintings he’d examined and catalogued, five were stolen. He wasn’t even halfway through the collection, which made him wonder what other surprises were in store. Three of the missing works had disappeared more than thirty years ago but two had come from much more recent thefts. As far as Ed understood, only he and his brother knew the combination for the vault.

Ed pushed back the covers, stretched and then headed into the bathroom. His breakfast tray was waiting for him when he came out of the shower. He found it slightly unnerving that someone had a key to his room and was happy to let themselves in. He hoped it was only the matron. It got him thinking about keys – Matron Bright had mentioned that she’d lost a set when Pelham Park first opened.

Ed opened the door and almost bumped into Matron Bright.

‘Good morning, Mr Clifton,’ she sang.

Ed nodded. ‘Good morning, matron. Thanks for breakfast.’

‘My pleasure. I suppose you’re off to the cellars now?’ the woman said.

‘Yes, I’ll be there all day. I hadn’t realised Mother had such an extensive collection. When Alice-Miranda’s group arrives today, would you bring her downstairs? She was very helpful yesterday and I could do with another pair of hands.’

‘Oh yes, of course, so long as it’s all right with Mr Plumpton. I don’t imagine he’ll mind.’

‘Thanks.’ Ed grinned tightly. ‘If you could just let her through the locked doors. I know she’ll find her way from there.’

‘Certainly, Mr Clifton.’ She took a large key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to Ed’s room. ‘I’ll just take your tray.’

Ed almost flew downstairs. As he opened the vault door and looked about, his head began to spin and he thought he might lose his breakfast.

‘How on earth?’ he breathed. Before him was a painting he certainly hadn’t seen the day before. He recognised it immediately. How could he not? It had been stolen from The Met a couple of months ago. He knew all about it, because it was one of his own.

Mr Plumpton yawned as he emerged from his tent. He looked as if he’d fought ten rounds with a tiger. His shirt buttons were mismatched and his trousers crumpled.

The children were all up and engaged in various jobs. Several had gone to collect kindling for the fire and others were down by the creek washing their faces. The shovel had disappeared too.

‘Good morning, Mr Plumpton,’ Alice-Miranda greeted the teacher.

‘Good morning to you too, young lady. Did you sleep well?’

‘Not especially.’

‘Me neither,’ Mr Plumpton confided. ‘I’ll be glad to be in a bed again tonight. I really don’t think my old bones are cut out for camping.’

‘Mr Plumpton, you’re not that old,’ Alice-Miranda said with a grin. ‘Do you know what time we’re going to Pelham Park today?’

‘Hang on a tick.’ The teacher consulted the revised timetable that Miss Reedy had given him the day before. ‘It looks like you’re due over there at ten, then back to Bagley Hall early in the afternoon for an extended choir practice with Mr Lipp.’

Mr Plumpton was very pleased that his entire group belonged to the Winchester-Fayle Singers. He was looking forward to a cup of tea and a nap while the children rehearsed.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

It didn’t take long for the children to eat breakfast and get the camp site packed up. Millie groaned when Beth told the children that the paddling groups were to stay the same as the day before. Her arms ached at the thought of it.

‘Isn’t it lovely to be together again?’ Caprice asked, smiling at her two companions.

‘Do you think you could help us paddle this time?’ Millie grumbled.

‘I paddled yesterday,’ Caprice bit, then turned and smiled at Figgy.

He was more gaga over the girl than ever and leapt to her defence. ‘Millie, leave her alone. She was paddling every time I looked.’

‘You’re so blind, Figgy. She was sitting behind you and only paddling when you turned around.’ Millie shook her head and stomped over to load the canoe. She didn’t notice Caprice following her.

‘Have you forgotten our deal?’

Millie whirled around to face her. ‘No, of course not.’

‘I’m going to win that medal,’ Caprice whispered, her eyes narrowed.

‘Won’t that feel good?’ Millie said. ‘Knowing that you’ve made your competition look bad. You make me sick!’

‘Aren’t we brave all of a sudden?’ Caprice hissed. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten our little arrangement.’

Millie sighed. ‘I don’t know how you sleep at night.’

‘Maybe I don’t.’ Caprice raised her eyebrows. ‘You never know what sort of things you might hear in the woods after midnight.’

Millie gulped. Could Caprice have overheard her and Alice-Miranda talking?

The return trip along the river was much faster than their extended journey out. Before they knew it, they’d rounded the bend and were back at home base. It was just after nine thirty.

‘Okay, everyone. You’ve got ten minutes to put your sleeping bags and clothes back in your rooms and brush your teeth,’ Beth instructed.

The Barn Owls scattered. Mr Plumpton walked into the teacher’s lounge to deposit his things and make a quick cup of tea.

Miss Reedy looked up from where she was sorting through a pile of paperwork. ‘Good morning, Josiah. How was your camp-out?’

‘Hello Livinia. It was no more exciting than I had anticipated, although a few of the children surprised me.’ He walked to the sink and filled the kettle. ‘Would you like tea?’

‘I’m fine for now. Which children?’ asked Miss Reedy.

‘For a start, Rufus Pemberley has a future as a pyromaniac. You should have seen the size of the fire he was building.’

Miss Reedy grinned and shook her head. ‘Who else made an impression?’

‘Sep Sykes – he’s a star, that lad. And Caprice was outstanding too but I was surprised at Alice-Miranda. She made quite a hash of things yesterday. That’s not like her at all,’ Mr Plumpton said with a frown.

‘You know, we do place very high expectations on her. Nobody’s perfect,’ Miss Reedy replied.

‘Yes, you’re right, but this is Alice-Miranda we’re talking about. I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it.’