A lot of the Becker & Sons square building is concealed discreetly behind high hedges, with only the reception bit clearly visible from the street. We’ve come round to the walled car park at the back, beyond which are thick trees and an embankment leading to the old railway line. It’s overlooked by the Beckers’ flat, which occupies the whole of the first floor, but there are no lights on anywhere. It’s very dark and Front Street suddenly feels miles away.

I look at Kez, and I think, Imagine living so close to dead bodies! But of course it’s all normal to her. She goes over to one of the long black funeral cars and crouches down, putting her hand inside the rear wheel arch and extracting a set of keys.

‘Me dad’s forever telling Terry not to leave them there. Good job he ignores him, eh?’ she says. ‘Right then: you ready for this?’

My heart feels tight in my chest and I can hardly swallow. I clench my teeth and give a short nod as Kez approaches us, jangling the keys. We follow her round to the big double doors.

Susan murmurs so that Kez can’t hear. ‘Remember. The dead cannot hurt you. Focus on your real purpose. Focus on Seb.’

‘Hang on. You said …’

‘I know. I am almost certain. But you know …’

Kez has unlocked the double doors and, when she opens them, a soft beeping starts. She turns to us. ‘Wait here. I have to disable the alarm.’ She slips in, and a few seconds later the beeping stops. Kez reappears and the three of us stand for a moment by the slightly opened double doors.

‘All right. Rules,’ says Kez. ‘Half an hour starting from now. No talking to people on the outside. Don’t turn the lights on or you’re disqualified. If it gets too much for you, bang on the door and say, “I’m a scaredy-cat, get me out of here!” Ready? Hand me your phone.’

‘Not giving it to you after last time. Susan can keep it.’

Kez frowns at us both. ‘Fair enough. Doesn’t matter to me. Now – have a look.’

I step forward to put my head through the gap in the doors. That’s when I feel a hard shove in my back as I’m pushed forward into the dark, followed by a loud clunk as the door slams behind me. It’s just like when this whole thing started, when Kez pushed me into Mr McKinley’s backyard.

‘Malky, are you all ri—’ begins Susan.

‘Shush. You’re breaking the rules.’

After that, silence. Even though I know that Kez and Susan are on the other side of the doors, I’m terrified. It would have been scary enough just sitting there with my back against them for thirty minutes. Instead, I have to prowl around in near total darkness, looking for a dead man’s Dreaminator.

The narrow windows just below ceiling height let in a tiny bit of light from outside, but it’s a dark night, anyway, and the only streetlight is broken. I blink hard to try to force my eyes to get used to the blackness and after a little while I work out where I am.

The room I’m in is bigger than it seemed from the outside. There are some lockers like at school, a rail with suits hanging from it, a shelf with top hats, and some low chairs. This must be some sort of changing area or staffroom. There are empty teacups on a little table and a sink in the corner. I start looking around for anything that might give me a clue as to where the Dreaminator is, and pretty soon I conclude that it’s not likely to be here. Not in this space, anyway. There are some head-height kitchen cupboards which I quickly look in, but it’s stuff like mugs and teabags.

A swing door on the other side of the space leads to a wide corridor, also dimly lit by the ceiling-height windows, with three or four doors leading off it, most with little round windows in them. I peer through one: it’s much too dark to see inside. I try the door handle: it’s locked.

I freeze on the spot when a beam of white light passes across the ceiling, followed a second or two later by the deep rumble of a big motorbike turning into the car park.

Kez’s dad!

I scuttle quickly back through the swing door into the staffroom and go up to the door I came in through. I’m about to thump on it and demand to be let out, but I can hear the motorbike only a few metres away. Then the engine goes quiet and there is an adult voice, muffled through the door, but still audible.

‘Hello, love. What you doing here?’

‘Hi, Dad. Just walkin’ Dennis. He chased a ball and it went round this side.’

Mr Becker chuckles. ‘Chased a ball? That’s something new. I’ve not seen him get above walking pace.’

His voice is getting nearer and I hear the jingling of keys followed by Kez’s squeaked question.

‘You’re not going in there, are you?’

‘Erm … yeah, love. Why sh—’

‘Only … Mam was asking for you. I think. You should see what she wants. First, like.’

‘Aye, well, your mam can wait a minute longer, can’t she? I just have to get something from the office. Don’t look at me like that. What’s wrong with you? Go on, off you go back home. Yes – now, Kezia. Scram. Beat it.’

By the time I hear the key in the lock, I’m in full-on terror. There is nowhere – nowhere – in the staffroom that will conceal me if he turns the light on, which he is certain to do.