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clay donut carried the rope over and back down to her feet. She repeated the process, looping the rope a few more times and hauling on it to make sure it held. Then she climbed up her home-made ladder, clawing from knot to knot, bouncing off the sides of the pit. Made it! She scrambled over the edge and looked back. Ricardo and T-Tongue seemed a long way down
    ‘What will we do with T-Tongue?’ called Ricardo.
    T-Tongue cocked his head from side to side, as if to say, ‘Yeah! What are you going to do?’
    Lucy raced down to the clothesline, checked to see Mum wasn’t around, grabbed a towel and streaked back up the hill. She tied both ends of the towel to the rope to make a little hammock, and tossed it down. Ricardo tucked T-Tongue in and told him to ‘Stay’. Lucy hauled him up before he had time to panic and jump out. Then she dropped the rope and Ricardo climbed up like a little monkey. He swung out of the pit just in time to see Mum charging up the path towards the steps.
    ‘Where have you been ,’ she demanded fiercely. ‘I’ve been calling you for ages!’
    ‘Just exploring,’ said Lucy, squinting.
    How come the sun is shining right in my face, when at the jungle jail it was above my head?
    ‘Exploring! More like coal mining. You’re filthy. Come and have breakfast. I’ve got an appointment at nine o’clock and it’s already eight,’ Mum said, coming up to the top stair. ‘Gosh! You haven’t been down there, have you?’
    The kids turned in panic, but the walls of the pit were smooth and unmarked. All they could see was a tree with half its roots exposed. Lucy and Ricardo looked at each other, their mouths open. Then Lucy noticed the plaque where she had dropped it half a lifetime ago and walked down the stairs to retrieve it.
    Mum was still scolding: ‘You’ll break your necks swinging off that rope. I should get someone up to have a look at the hole. I should get it filled in . . .’
    ‘No!’ said the kids in unison.
    But Mum was already marching down the hill and didn’t notice when Lucy and Ricardo turned at the bottom of the path, something tugging at their minds. There, sitting on the top stair washing itself, was the Tiger-cat.
    Lucy looked down at the plaque still in her hands. It wasn’t telling her anything.
    She looked back at the Tiger-cat and met its golden eyes; it wasn’t telling her anything either.

9
Late Breakfast

    ‘We’re moving out! I’ve found gold!’
    Lucy stared at the plaque in her soapy hands. Where she’d rubbed at the blackened metal it glowed dull yellow.
    T-Tongue was thrilled. He tried to climb up on the sink – a brave act for a puppy who hated water.
    ‘I don’t think so, love,’ said Mum, dryly. ‘More likely brass. Let me have a look. Brass goes black when you don’t look after it.’
    Mum took the plaque to the kitchen door to catch a direct blast of sunlight.
    ‘Yes. It’s brass. It doesn’t rust, but looks terrible if you don’t care for it. This will clean up OK. We’ll get some of Grandma’s special stuff. Be good as new.’
    Then she remembered.
    ‘Now don’t go wasting too much time on it. You kids are supposed to be scrubbing the bathroom today. It’s just a bit of old junk from the garden.’
    ‘But Mum, it’s got writing on it. It could have been buried for a hundred years. I could use it in a history project or something.’
    ‘Yes – when school goes back! The bathroom needs doing today .’
    ‘And the Tiger-cat found it for us,’ piped up Ricardo, chomping through his second huge bowl of Cocoa Puffs.
    ‘Shut up, Ricardo!’ mouthed Lucy silently. Ricardo opened his mouth again and Lucy realised she was going to have to act fast to stop him blurting everything out. She walked casually to the table, placing herself carefully between Mum’s line of sight and Ricardo’s bowl, picked up the box of Cocoa Puffs, and poured another huge pyramid of cereal into his bowl, staring into his eyes.
    Ricardo dropped his gaze and