His Name Was Walter

squeak of amazement as a shallow drawer slid out of hiding below the main central drawer of the desk. The secret drawer wasn’t empty. Someone —probably years and years ago — had used it to keep some special things safe. His fingers tingling, Colin stared down at the items fitted like jigsaw pieces into the shallow space. At the back was a long, narrow book with a faded black cover. In one corner he could see the glint of gold. But the thing that riveted his attention was a bigger book that lay across the front. The book was covered with paper painted in a marbled pattern of blue and green that seemed to move like water. Pasted on the front, right in the centre, was a white label with a border of feathery green leaves enclosing a beautifully hand-lettered title. Colin twisted his head sideways so he could read the words.

Colin felt a tingle run down his spine. He picked up the book, felt its weight in his hands. For some reason he looked round at Tara Berne, still standing by the door. Tara stared back. Her pale lips were parted. Her greeny-brown eyes looked enormous. Gingerly, Colin opened the book. The first page repeated the title. He turned it over and his eyes watered

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