Secrets on the Shore (Taylor and Rose mini adventure). Katherine Woodfine

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      ‘Look, there it is!’ exclaimed Lil, squinting through the rain at an old black-and-white inn close to the top of the hill. ‘The Smuggler’s Rest!’

      The door was small and low: Lil had to duck her head to get inside, and Sophie followed her, keen to get out of the chill. She had the immediate impression of being somewhere cosy, snug and very old indeed. The sloping ceilings were striped with heavy black beams and brass lamps gave out a warm, yellow glow. She breathed in the scent of a wood fire, as an elderly porter appeared as if out of nowhere to show them the way up a steep, uneven staircase to the room they had engaged for the next two weeks.

      ‘This way, young misses,’ he instructed, showing them into a comfortable room with two enormous wooden beds and a pair of cosy armchairs placed side-by-side under a diamond-paned window. Sophie looked out, guessing that on a clear day there would be a magnificent view over the marshes to the sea – but for now she could see nothing but rain and the dark.

      Lil had already shed her coat and hat and was eagerly examining a large carved wooden chest that stood in the corner. ‘Don’t you think this looks exactly like the sort of thing that might have a dead body in it?’

      The old porter’s eyes gleamed. ‘And maybe it did have once upon a time,’ he declared in an ominous voice. ‘The old Smuggler’s Rest has a dark history, right enough.’

      ‘Oh, I say. Does it really?’ asked Lil.

      ‘That it does. If these walls could talk, a nice young lady like yourself mightn’t want to hear the tales they could tell.’ He lowered his voice, warming to his tale. ‘There’s been a sight of trouble here over the centuries. That’s why they say the ghosts and ghouls still haunt it. Oh, you may smile, but there’s plenty of folks that have seen queer things here in the dead of night. Some say there’s an old woman who appears at the foot of the bed at midnight; or others that you can hear a little child’s footsteps, running up and down the hall; and yet others who say you may hear the clash of the old smugglers’ swords on nights when the moon is full . . .’

      At that moment the landlady bustled in, bringing a stack of blankets. ‘Fred, don’t you go frightening these young ladies with your tall tales,’ she scolded, after introducing herself as Mrs Riggs. ‘You’ll be giving them nightmares.’

      Sophie and Lil exchanged a quick smile. They knew it would take more than a few spooky stories to give them nightmares. After all, this wasn’t the first time they’d encountered a supposedly haunted house. Only a year ago they’d been investigating rumours of a haunting at grand Winter Hall, which had turned out to be no ghost at all, but an all-too-real villain. Just the same, Sophie remembered that they weren’t intrepid young detectives here, and so exclaimed, ‘Goodness, how terrifying!’ while Lil contributed a theatrical shiver.

      ‘Now, don’t you worry,’ said Mrs Riggs in a voice that rang with common sense. ‘I’ve been here for going on fifteen years, and I can tell you I’ve never seen hide nor hair of any ghost.’

      ‘Well, I hope we won’t either,’ said Lil, with a convincingly nervous giggle. ‘Actually, what we’re really hoping to see is a lot of birds. We’ve heard this is a terrific spot for them.’

      ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Mrs Riggs at once. ‘We have lots of birdwatching ladies and gentlemen staying here, don’t we Fred? There are plenty of rare birds out on the marshes, though I’m afraid you’ll have poor weather for it at this time of the year. Now, here’s some blankets. It can be chilly at night in an old place like this, but we’ll see you stay nice and snug.’

      ‘It’s a wonderful old inn,’ said Sophie.

      ‘It must have a terrifically interesting history,’ Lil chimed in. ‘Smugglers and so forth.’

      The landlady nodded and smiled, evidently proud of this. ‘It does indeed. There’s been an inn on this site since Norman times, and two hundred years ago this place was the headquarters for one of the most notorious gangs of smugglers ever known on England’s shores. They used it as their meeting place, and even built secret passages so they could go about their business without being caught.’

      ‘Secret passages?’ asked Lil at once. ‘How thrilling!’

      ‘Oh yes. There’s one that goes up to a hidden room under the roof. You’ll like to see it, I daresay? I’ll get my lad Alfie to show it to you. It’s too dark and cramped for me.’

      ‘What did they use the hidden room for? Storing the smuggled cargo, I suppose?’

      ‘That’s right. Brandy and lace and tobacco, and all kinds of other contraband they brought over from France. They say that this part of the coast was one of the very best places for smuggling. It’s that wild and remote that the smugglers could come creeping up in their little boats without the authorities ever knowing what they were up to.’ Mrs Riggs beamed at them. ‘Now, do you have everything you need? There’s tea downstairs in the parlour with my homemade scones and fruitcake. Or I can send up a tray for you if you’d rather have it here?’

      But for once, neither Sophie or Lil were thinking about tea. Mrs Riggs’s words had caught Sophie’s imagination – and she could see from Lil’s bright excited eyes that she was thinking the same thing. It’s that wild and remote that the smugglers could come creeping up secretly in their little boat without the authorities ever knowing what they were up to . . .

      It was exactly what the Secret Service Bureau had sent them here to investigate. Except now it was no longer the old smugglers with their brandy and lace who were sneaking along the coast unseen. Now it was someone else creeping stealthily along the shore, under cover of darkness: German spies, carrying a cargo of secrets.

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