For Aveline, the rest of the evening passed in a blur. As she lay on her bed, waiting for her whirling thoughts to slow, she couldn’t help but wonder about the arrival of the T-shirt and its mysterious connection to the ritual they’d done. Perhaps Hazel had known in advance that Aveline’s aunt would be bringing her a T-shirt. But how on earth could she? Which left another option that Aveline couldn’t ignore.

It had been magic.

Real magic.

Aveline had asked for something, left an offering, and the stones had listened.

Which Aveline couldn’t quite bring herself to believe.

She considered waking Harold up and asking him what he thought, but the more she thought about it, the more outlandish it seemed. Anyway, she’d heard of people arriving at a party only to discover that they were wearing the same outfit as somebody else, so maybe that’s all it was? One big coincidence.

These thoughts continued for some time, until sleep eventually spread itself over her, filled with half-remembered dreams of mysterious girls and standing stones and T-shirts.

The next morning, Harold woke her with a knock on the bedroom door.

“I believe you booked an alarm call?” he said, poking his head through.

Aveline laughed and pointed at his hair, which looked like a very badly made bird’s nest. “Looks like someone had a fight with the pillow and lost.”

Harold smoothed it down with a hand. “Nothing a quick splash of water won’t fix,” he said. “Anyway, here’s another book I dug out that may prove useful.”

“Straight down to business, eh?”

“Yup.”

He held the book up for her to see. Reaching for her glasses, Aveline popped them on and squinted across the room.

“Thought you could show me your famous bottle and we can see if it’s in here?”

Over breakfast, Aveline’s mum told them that she, Aunt Lilian and Mr Lieberman were going to go for a drive and that they were welcome to come too if they didn’t mind hanging out with the oldies for a while. Aveline heard Harold cough and looked up to see him swivelling his eyes while twisting his mouth as if he was chewing on a particularly sticky toffee.

“No need to pull stupid faces, Harold,” Aunt Lilian said, casting a withering glance in his direction. “We were only being polite.”

“Ach, and please don’t get into any mischief while we’re gone, Harold,” Mr Lieberman interjected. “Trouble and you always seem to have a habit of finding each other.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle, Aveline will look after me, she never gets in any trouble,” Harold replied, rolling his eyes in Aveline’s direction. She immediately understood what Harold was getting at – the ghostly experiences they’d shared together in Malmouth. It was one of those occasions where the less said, the better.

With everyone agreeing to meet later on, Aveline took Harold to show him the bottle. She cleaned the soil off as best she could and together they leafed through the pictures in the book, looking for a match. While some examples in there looked similar, they couldn’t find one that matched exactly. Aveline twirled the neck of the bottle in her fingers, wondering what to do.

“Like I said before, you should smash it.”

They looked up to see Hazel leaning over the garden wall, a pair of yellow-framed sunglasses hiding her eyes.

“Nice T-shirt by the way,” she added, nodding at Aveline, who was wearing the new one Aunt Lilian had bought her.

“Um, thanks,” Aveline said, the blush on her cheeks having nothing to do with the midday sun. “This is Harold, by the way, who I told you about. Harold, this is Hazel, she lives in Norton Wick.”

“Hello, Harold,” Hazel said, taking off her glasses to fix him with a very direct stare from her unusually coloured eyes. “I take it you’re the smelly-old-bottle expert.”

Harold shook his fringe down over his eyes. Aveline noticed he appeared to have suddenly become very shy.

“Er, no, not really, but I did find a book about them. We were just looking to see if we could find a match,” he mumbled, holding the book out in front of him like an apology.

“I’ll tell you where you’ll find a perfect match, Harold,” Hazel said, drawing out his name like a strand of chewing gum. “In a landfill site. Now let’s get on with it and see what’s inside.”

Harold looked at Aveline, who shrugged her shoulders. She was desperate to see what it contained. “Okay, let’s do it.”

It only took a gentle tap against the garden wall to crack the bottle into glassy green fragments. Something fell to the ground as a strong sulphurous smell rankled Aveline’s nostrils. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hazel shudder, as if summer had just turned to winter. Picking aside the fragments of dirty glass, Aveline bent closer to see what had fallen out.

Tiny black iron nails.

Long, thin and gnarled, like ancient thorns.

Five of them altogether.

They must have caused the rattling sound she’d heard.

There didn’t appear to be anything else of significance left in the bottle, just an oily residue on the fragments, and, given the rank odour, Aveline didn’t fancy dipping her finger in it.

So that was that.

A bottle with five nails in it.

As she gathered the nails up from the grass, a jolt of electricity passed through her fingertips. She drew back her hand, frowning at them. Maybe she’d brushed against the sharp end of one? Tentatively she touched them again, but while they felt unusually warm, that was all. Cradling them in her hand, she examined them more closely, sensing that she’d missed something important. Why would anyone go to the trouble of squeezing a few nails into a glass bottle before burying it? She held them out for Harold and Hazel to see.

“Can’t see you winning Archaeologist of the Year with that,” Harold said.

“No,” Aveline conceded. “Makes me wonder why someone bothered making the effort. There’s got to be a reason.”

Swinging her legs over the garden wall, Hazel came and joined them, peering into the palm of Aveline’s hand.

“The reason is that people are weird, Aveline. There’s an old woman in the village who collects porcelain frogs. She’s got hundreds of them and lines them up in her windows. Must take her hours to dust them all. Why would anyone think that’s a good use of their time? Anyway, at least you got to the bottom of it.” Hazel stretched out a toe and kicked at a shard of glass. Aveline made a note to come back later and clean it up.

“Should we go over to the stones?” Aveline asked, tucking the nails away into her back pocket. Something told her they might come in useful.

“If you like,” Harold said, flicking away his fringe with what appeared to be a quick, nervous glance at Hazel. “I haven’t actually seen them up close yet.”

“Why not?” Hazel said. “We can show you what they’re really all about.”

Which Aveline thought sounded a bit like a threat.

As they walked through the field, Harold drifted off to examine one of the few stones that was still standing. While he was out of earshot, Aveline pulled Hazel to one side.

“You noticed it then,” Aveline said, stretching out the bottom of her T-shirt for Hazel to see. “My aunt brought it for me. Bit of a surprise, to say the least. So, I’m a little confused. Does that mean the magic worked?”

“Of course. I told you it would. The stones liked your bracelet, Aveline, that’s all. Give and you shall receive. It’s just like a shop, only it’s magic and it’s made of ancient stone and it doesn’t close in the evening.”

Aveline glanced over to where Harold had bent down in front of one of the stones. He appeared to be trying to poke his fingers into one of the crevices on its gnarled, lichen-covered surface.

“But…the circle’s not really magic, is it?” Aveline said. “Things like that don’t happen in real life, do they?”

“Yes, they do, Aveline,” Hazel said with a dismissive flick of her hand. “Haven’t you ever experienced something you can’t explain?”

Aveline had no choice but to nod. She had. And she’d never forget it. “But I still don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand. All you have to do is accept that it’s possible. This place is truly magic, Aveline, it has been for thousands of years. And you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.”

They were distracted by the sight of Harold walking towards them, holding out something in his hand.

“What do you think this is?” he said. Between his fingers he held a tiny paper scroll, tied with what appeared to be a strand of cotton.

“Found it wedged into a hole in one of the stones.”

“Litterbugs, can’t stand them,” Hazel said. “Take it home with you, Harold, put it in the bin and that’ll be your good deed for the day.”

“Not sure it’s litter,” Harold said. “Somebody’s taken care with this, see? They’ve even rolled it up and tied it so it would fit neatly in the hole.”

He slowly unwrapped the tiny scroll, before holding it out for them to see. Despite the heat of the day, a shiver tiptoed across Aveline’s skin. There was writing on it. A short message, written in red ink.

“What does it say?” Aveline said, dipping her head for a closer look.

Underneath that was a symbol, two vertical lines bisected by one horizontal one.

Aveline suppressed a shudder. Something about the wording unsettled her. It read like a command. And it made it sound as if whoever her was wouldn’t have much say in the matter.

“Kind of looks like an H,” Harold said, peering at the symbol.

“H for Harold,” Hazel said with a sly smirk. “If you’re going to write down strange messages and stuff them into the stones, you should at least sign your full name.”

With a swift movement she grabbed the paper out of Harold’s hand, before ripping it up into tiny pieces and throwing them in the air. “There…and before you call me a litterbug, I’d like to remind you both that paper decomposes, so no cows will be hurt.”

Harold glanced over at Aveline, his face scrunched in confusion. Aveline felt taken aback, too. They’d found a secret message hidden in a standing stone and Hazel had ripped it up and thrown it away. It seemed such a rude and selfish thing to do, especially as they’d had no time to examine it further.

“I certainly didn’t write it,” Harold muttered. “I have no idea what Bring her to me means anyway.”

“Probably asking the stones for a girlfriend, I expect,” Hazel said, with a snort.

With her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, Aveline couldn’t tell for certain if Hazel was joking or not. But she could certainly see the warm flush of pink on Harold’s cheeks. Tossing his fringe in annoyance, Harold walked over to another one of the stones, leaving Aveline with a horrible feeling that she’d betrayed him in some way. She wanted to call after him, to try and say something that would perhaps defuse the tension in the air, but she couldn’t find the right words fast enough.

The day didn’t appear to be going as planned. Aveline had hoped they could spend it all getting to know each other, but Hazel seemed to enjoy aiming sly digs in Harold’s direction. Her instincts told her that Hazel wasn’t trying to be nasty, just mischievous. Her new friend’s sense of humour took a little getting used to – if you hadn’t met her before then Aveline could understand how you might get the wrong idea. And one thing she knew about Harold was that while he might pretend to be all cocky and confident, in truth he was just as shy as she was. That was one of the reasons they got along so well. Thankfully a ping on her mobile gave her an excuse to bring their short trip out to an end.

“We’ve been summoned,” Aveline called across to Harold. “Fish and chips on the way.”

Harold brightened up at that. “Excellent!”

“You’re leaving already?” Hazel said. “We haven’t had time to show Harold any magic yet.”

“What’s all this about magic?” Harold said.

“Oh, I’ll let Aveline fill you in,” Hazel said. “Anyway, my parents asked if you’d like to come and stay over tomorrow night, Aveline. You know, like we planned?”

While Aveline remembered Hazel saying something about watching films and eating popcorn sometime, she didn’t think they’d made firm plans. Certainly not for an overnight stay. She’d thought it was just the type of casual invitation that people threw out when they were getting along. But now Hazel was making it sound as if she’d gone to a lot of trouble to arrange something. It was an invitation which felt hard to refuse.

“Um, can Harold come too?” Aveline stammered.

“’Fraid not,” Hazel said immediately, already walking away into the bright sunshine, her shadow dancing behind her on the long grass. “Girls only. Sorry, Harold, but it’s only one evening. I’m sure you’ll find something to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Aveline.”

And with that she broke into a run. Aveline squinted after her into the sun, until she had to look away. Tiny black dots danced at the edge of her vision and her head felt muddled, as if she might have spent too long out in the fierce heat without a hat.

“Didn’t want to come anyway,” Harold muttered. “She’s a bit kooky if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Aveline said. “I’ve got to ask my mum first anyway. I didn’t even think we’d organized anything. Maybe I can get Hazel to rearrange it. Anyway, come on, let’s go and stuff our faces.”

“What did she mean about magic?” Harold said, as they walked back towards the cottage.

Aveline hesitated. There wasn’t any reason not to tell him. She nearly had the night before. Even so, something made her pause, almost as if this was a situation she didn’t want to draw Harold into. Yet nor did she want him to feel like she was shutting him out, especially after what had happened earlier with Hazel’s sniping. Aveline decided to share what had happened so far: about Hazel’s magic trick with the necklace, about Alice the reputed witch, and finally about her new T-shirt being conjured up by the stones in exchange for a leather bracelet. When she heard herself talking about it out loud, it all seemed a little ridiculous.

“Hmm, that is strange,” Harold said, pushing open the gate to the cottage. “And the T-shirt thing is hard to explain. Did she specifically say, Bring Aveline the same T-shirt as me?”

Aveline stopped and grabbed him by the arm. His skin felt warm to the touch after being in the sun all afternoon, and when she released him she saw white marks where her fingers had gripped him. “Harold, you’re right. Hazel saw that mine had holes in it, but all she actually said was something nice. Still, pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”

“For sure,” Harold said. “But probably not magic, eh? Aunts bring nieces presents. Hazel’s probably just good at card tricks and educated guesses. Anyway, rather you than me. I wouldn’t want to spend the night over at someone’s house if I’d only just met them. She might stick you up in the attic and keep you there for ever.”

It was only a joke. But what Harold said unsettled Aveline a little. And even the prospect of fish and chips couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t quite know what she’d let herself in for.