I didn't dream - I just slept - and when I woke my room was in semi-darkness. Someone had lit candles and placed them around my room. The curtains were open, and through the window, I could see that it was night and a crescent-shaped moon hung in the sky like a piece of cheese rind. Glancing at my wristwatch, the little luminous hands told me it was just before 9 p.m.

Roling onto my back, I propped myself up onto my elbows. My head stil ached from my fal, but the pain had eased. Then in the gloom, I spotted Kayla sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. Noticing that I was awake, she removed the iPod's earphones, picked something up from the dresser, and brought it towards me.

"I made you a sandwich," she said, handing me a plate. "I thought you might be hungry." Taking the plate of neatly-cut sandwiches from her, I looked at them and she added, "They're ham. You do like ham, don't you?

I wasn't sure."

"I love cheese," I said, taking a bite. "Mmm. These are good."

"I fetched you a glass of milk, too," Kayla smiled and took a glass from the dressing table.

"You're too kind," I smiled and took a gulp.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and I could see the concern in her eyes that twinkled in the candlelight.

"I'l be fine," I said, putting the glass to one side.

"You had me worried for a bit," she said.

"Don't worry about me. I'm as tough as an old pair of boots," I told her, and she laughed. There was an awkward silence that fel between us, so I broke it by saying, "So what have you been doing while I've been out of it?"

"Not much," she sighed. "The old bag has had me mopping the kitchen floor and then I had to go and wash the Rols Royce for James." Then holding out her hands, she said, "See, look my hands have gone al wrinkly. Then I made you a sandwich and have just been sitting up here in the corner listening to music."

"Anything good?" I asked her.

" 'Rocket Man' by Elton John. I love that song,"

she said.

As we were on the subject of listening to things, I said, "So tel me, how did you know I was going to get that text earlier? I mean, you knew it was coming even before it showed up on my phone."

Making herself comfortable on the edge of my bed, Kayla looked at me and said, "I hear things."

Swalowing a mouthful of ham and bread, I said, "How do you mean?"

"I don't know - it's hard to explain," she sighed.

"Remember how I told you I heard that doctor whisper in my father's ear? Wel they were right on the other side of my room but I could stil hear them."

"It could just have been good acoustics," I said, but didn't realy believe that. And to hear myself doubt her like that reminded me of how Doctor Keats disbelieved me. The girl had wings for crying out loud - I should be able to believe anything.

"Come with me," Kayla said, climbing from the edge and taking one of the candles. Pushing the plate aside, I took a candle for myself and folowed her.

"Where you taking me?" I asked her.

"C'mon," she said over her shoulder. "I want to show you my room."

Folowing Kayla down the passageway, that smel hit my nostrils again. I tried not to get too close to the wals in an attempt to avoid getting that sticky stuff on my clothes. Just before the stairs, Kayla stopped outside a door and pushed it open. Looking back at me, she stepped inside. With my candle held out before me, I folowed her. The room that I'd entered was lit with so many candles that it could have easily been mistaken for some kind of chapel. There were tal ones, short ones, fat and thin ones. The smel of melting wax was almost overwhelming. Apart from the candles, Kayla's room could have been mistaken for any other teenage girl's room up and down the country - apart from the four-poster bed, Ensuite bathroom, sheer size, and the balcony outside. Her room was covered with pictures of Enrique Iglesias, Robert Pattinson, and Katy Perry. Clothes spiled from the half-open wardrobe and across the floor, a Kindle lay on her bed.

"Reading anything good?" I asked.

Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "' Atlas' by Sienna Rose."

"Any good?" I asked, turning to look at her dressing table.

"Awesome," she said. "You should read it sometime."

"Perhaps I wil someday," I smiled, noticing how her dressing table was littered with lipsticks, half-empty bottles of perfume, face wipes, hairgrips, and nail polish.

Kicking some of her clothes under the bed, Kayla smiled and said, "Sorry about the mess."

"Hey, this looks like paradise compared to the state of my flat," I said. Then I thought of how Philips had left it and dreaded going back there to face it.

"Right. You lay down there," she said. "I want to prove something to you."

Playing along with her, I lay on her bed. Looking up I could see the bel pul hanging from the ceiling. It was frayed al down one side and at its end. Glancing away, I watched Kayla cross to the far side of the room. "Right now, close your eyes so you can't lip read. Go on, close your eyes," she urged me.

Smiling to myself, I closed my eyes and lay back.

Al I could hear was the sound of my own breathing.

"Ok, so what did I say?" she asked.

Opening my eyes, I looked at her standing across the room from me. "I couldn't hear what you said," I told her.

"See!" she exclaimed coming back towards me. "I was standing exactly where my father and that quack were that night, but I stil heard them. That would be impossible, right?"

"I guess," I said sitting back up. "So you have extra-sensitive hearing?" I asked her.

"It was like that at first," she started to explain.

"But now it's different."

"How?" I asked, crossing to the window to look out onto the balcony.

"I don't know how to explain it - but it's not like I hear voices, words, or sounds - it's more like vibrations," she said. "And it's those vibrations that create noises inside my head. Like today, when we were sitting on the wal. I couldn't have heard your text arriving because I heard it before it arrived on your phone. So how could I have heard it, if it hadn't made a sound?"

"I don't know," I said, stepping away from the window. I'd seen enough so I went to her bathroom and glanced inside.

"I heard the vibrations of that text message traveling towards your phone through the air - does that makes sense?" she said.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, I looked at Kayla and said, "I think so."

"That's why I like to listen to music," she said, coming to sit next to me.

"How come?"

"There is always noise going on inside my head - it can kinda drive me nuts at times," she said. "It's like just sitting here next to you, I can hear your heart beating, I can hear the blood surging through your veins, I can hear your hair and nails growing. It's like there is this constant background noise."

"How do you cope with it?" I asked her.

"Sometimes I don't," she explained. "That's one of the reasons I was distracted at school. It was so hard to concentrate when I could hear the lunch that the girl sitting next me had eaten being broken down by her stomach acid inside her. It wasn't very nice and very distracting!"

"I know how you feel," I told her. "I can see things."

"See things?" she asked, then with an excited glint in her eyes, she added, "What, like ghosts and stuff?"

"No," I laughed. "I'm not psychic." But then I thought of how I'd seen Philips burgle my flat in a dream and wondered if I was. God, Doctor Keats would have enough material to keep her busy for the rest of her life! "How do you mean then?" Kayla asked.

"Okay," I said. "How many people live in this house?"

"Wel, including you and my mother when she's here -" she started.

"Apart from us," I cut in. "How many staff are there?"

"Why, just three," she said, looking confused.

"Mrs. Payne, Marshal, and James."

"Wrong, there's another," I said looking her straight in the eye.

"But that's impossible!" she gasped. "Who are they, and where are they? I haven't seen anyone!"

"But I have," I said. "I don't know who they are, but I know that they are probably living in the other wing."

"How can you be so sure?" She asked, sounding breathless.

"Marshal took them breakfast this morning," I assured her.

"Marshal? How do you know that?"

"The stairs leading up to the 'forbidden' wing, as the good housekeeper likes to cal it, are covered in dust. Thick dust which I guess has been created by the renovations that have been taking place there. It looks reddish in colour which probably makes it brick dust," I said.

"So?"

"There aren't any builders here - not that I've seen," I said.

"No, they stopped work last week," Kayla said.

"They can't continue until some more supplies have been ordered. Wel, that's what Mrs. Payne told me anyhow. Apparently, they'l be back next week."

"Okay, so if there haven't been any builders in the manor since last week, why are there fresh boot prints in the dust on those stairs? The prints looked to me to be about a size twelve - far too big to be Mrs. Payne's or yours. The chauffeur can't walk, so that only leaves one other person..."

"Marshal!" Kayla breathed, her eyes growing wide. "But how do you know that he was taking someone their breakfast?"

"Halfway up the banisters, there is a handprint where someone gripped hold of it. It wasn't because they slipped or fel, having to suddenly take hold of the banister, the footprints didn't show any sign of this. The fact that there isn't a matching handprint on the opposite banister tels me that they were carrying something else in their hand. Something that they were trying to balance and something that they couldn't drop for fear of bringing unwanted attention to themselves," I explained.

Then holding my arm up with my hand out flat, I pretended that I was holding a tray. "See, a tray would contain plates, cutlery, or a teapot and a cup at the very least. Imagine the noise that would have made if it had gone clattering down the stairs."

"But what makes you think it was breakfast?"

Kayla asked, looking intrigued.

"What else could someone possibly be carrying on a tray at such an early hour in the morning?" I said.

"How do you know it was in the morning?" she asked.

"I passed those stairs at gone midnight last night and even though I only had the aid of a candle to guide me, it was adequate enough for me to have noticed any great big boot marks if they'd been there."

Looking at me, Kayla blew out her cheeks and said, "That was pretty neat. But how can you definitely be sure it was Marshal? I know what you said about him being the only -"

"When he placed me on the bed after my fal today, I couldn't help but notice a trail of the same coloured brick dust along the right sleeve of his coat.

And as he walked away, I could see it on the soles of his boots," I explained.

"You realy do see things, don't you?" Kayla said.

"But if you are right - and I don't doubt you - who was Marshal taking breakfast to and what are they doing up there?"

"I don't know," I said. "But it would be nice to find out."

"If you go up there, wil you take me with you?"

she asked.

"I don't know," I said shaking my head.

"I used to go up there as a kid," she told me. "I could show you the way."

"I'l think about it," I said getting up from the bed and heading for the door.

"You know what?" Kayla said, as I reached for the door handle.

"What?"

"My mother was wrong about you."

"In what way?" I asked, looking back.

"She said you were going to be tough - that you wouldn't put up with any nonsense and that you would keep me line," Kayla said.

"But your mother was right about one thing," I said lingering by the door.

"Oh, what was that?"

"You do have someone watching you," I said, but I didn't tel her that I knew she knew who he was. I didn't tel her that despite the moat, the wals, the drawbridge and gate, he somehow gained access to the grounds. That she sends him messages to let him know the coast is clear. That he waits for her below until it is safe for him to come up to her balcony, but he is not her boyfriend. But nevertheless, he is someone she trusts and feels comfortable with. I didn't tel Kayla that I had seen al of this since entering her bedroom.

"Do you know who it is?" Kayla said, springing from the edge of her bed and I could detect fear in her voice.

"Not yet," I told her, closing the bedroom door behind me.