‘A walk, that’s all,’ Reginald Parker had said. But it seemed he had more than a simple walk in mind. He and Stan had faffed about in the garage to find the old headlamps and some gear.

Stan Frost suspected it was a waste of time. He had no idea if they’d even be able to get inside. There’d been a lot of rain last year and he’d noticed a few mudslides on the mountain. The entrance to the cave might have been covered up by now. Part of him hoped it was.

Stan and Reg ambled along in the late sunshine. When they reached the bottom of the hillside, Stan was surprised to find himself ahead of his friend. It had taken Reg much longer to navigate the narrow trail that led steeply to the cave’s entrance. Several times Reg grasped at the vegetation to steady himself and had to stop to catch his breath. Stan couldn’t remember his friend ever being this slow before. He was different too, although Stan couldn’t exactly say how.

‘Are you all right?’ Stan asked Reg, and offered him a hand to get up a particularly steep part of the track.

‘Right as rain, Stan. Can’t think why I’m so tired though. I’ve never been this slow in my life.’ Reg steadied himself. ‘Look, Stan, there she is.’ He pointed then knocked on his hard hat – it was something he’d always done before they went inside. Reg switched on the amber glow of the headlamp and pushed his way through the waterfall of vines that had sprouted from above, shielding the entrance like a bridal veil.

‘Where’d this lot come from?’ Reg asked as he parted the long tendrils. ‘Must be the fastest growing creeper on earth.’

Stan wondered what he was talking about. Reg led the way inside. Stan followed. The cave was just as he remembered. A dank smell rose up and assaulted his nostrils and the glow from their headlamps sent a small colony of bats screeching towards the entrance.

Stan was terrified that the bats would turn around and fly back towards them. He’d never much liked the little blighters with their big ears.

Reg traced the walls of the cave for hours, his nose almost pressed up against the surface at times.

Stan searched too but he didn’t like their chances of finding anything. Although he had stumbled upon a few small treasures once, many years before, they’d been up there hundreds of times since and never come across anything except the odd lizard, and of course the bats. Then again, it had always been the thrill of the chase more than anything else. Stan’s stomach grumbled. He looked down at his watch, shining the headlamp onto its face. It had just gone ten o’clock. Four hours after his appointed dinnertime.

‘Come on, Reg, let’s pack it in for the night,’ he called out. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’

Reg was feeling light-headed himself but had put it down to being in the confined space. ‘All right. But tomorrow’ll be the day. You mark my words.’

Stan wondered if Maudie and Itch might have demolished the kitchen looking for their dinner. He hadn’t planned on being out so long.

By the time they reached the bottom of the hillside and started across the field for home, Stan had decided that he wanted some answers.

‘Reg, I need to know exactly where you’ve been for the past three years.’ The headlamp on Stan’s helmet glared into Reginald’s grey eyes. Stan thought they looked strangely hollow – almost empty.

Reg frowned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stan. I was here yesterday.’

‘Stop it, Reg. Three years ago you left here one afternoon and said that if you didn’t get home and get the gutters cleaned out, Myrtle would string you up. Then you disappeared and I haven’t seen you since then until today.’

Reg shook his head. ‘I think you’re losing your marbles, old friend – too much time in the woods.’

Stan didn’t know what else to say, so he clammed up. When they reached the cottage, Reg followed Stan through the back door.

He went straight to the stove, lit a match and threw it in with the kindling that he had ready inside. Then he ducked through to the utility room and organised some mincemeat for the dogs, who were dancing about at his knees.

Reg sat down at the kitchen table.

Stan retrieved two fillets of fish from the fridge. He’d been planning to have them for the next couple of nights but now they’d do for both of them.

‘Dinner will be a while,’ he said. When he turned around, Reginald seemed to have drifted off to sleep.