Chapter 1

They say there is something awful in the sand dunes.

Kate and I walk along the beach kicking seaweed and looking at stuff that has been washed up. There is not a single footprint in the sand, which means that no one has been along this way since high tide. There might be something good amongst the seaweed. So far we have only found a broken lobster pot and a dead penguin with no eyes.

It is a lonely beach with a lonely sky.

The sand dunes are covered in marram grass. Huge waves thunder up the beach and then run out of puff. The waves are powerful but they can't hurt you unless you get too close. Of course you never know when an extra big one is going to rush up and grab you. Life is like that. Just when you feel safe – bang – something awful happens. A wave of fate knocks you over.

'The grave's behind the Loony Bin,' says Kate.

The Loony Bin is where the mad people live. I have never seen them because there is a big wire fence around the whole place and thick bushes grow on the other side. But there are stories.

One night Ian Douglas told me about the loonies when I was walking home from Cubs. He kept walking behind me and I couldn't get rid of him.

'One of the loonies is a full-moon murderer,' he said in a fake scary voice. 'And he often gets out at night.'

'I'm not frightened of lunatics,' I said.

But that was a lie. As I walked along trying not to listen I looked up into the cold sky where the full moon was so bright that any murderer could see us just as if it was midday . Ian Douglas is a big tough kid and his house is close to the Church Hall where the Cubs meet. He turned into his front garden and laughed at something that I didn't know about. He didn't have to walk on his own after Cubs. But I did.

I was alone in the glare of the moon and it was a long way back to my house. Each driveway could have hidden a full-moon murderer. I walked down the centre of the road to give myself a chance if one jumped out. A few weeks later Ian Douglas told me that there are also half-moon murderers in the Loony Bin. The night he told me that, there just happened to be a halfmoon and I was so scared I thought I was going to faint. When I finally got home, Mum and Dad and Kate were out. Probably gone for a walk around the block with Kate tagging along behind.

I wanted to jump into bed but a thought kept coming into my mind that a half-moon murderer might be hiding underneath. Once this thought comes into your mind you have to take a look. Otherwise you will lie there all night imagining a hand coming out and grabbing you. But if you look under the bed and see a face staring back, you will die of fright just from the terror of the experience. So I do my usual trick and roll a ball underneath. If it comes out the other side of the bed I am safe.

The ball did not come out the other side. It took me ages and ages to get up the courage to take a peek. There was no one under the bed. The ball had been stopped by a pair of underpants that I had kicked under there the week before. That's what I mean – bang – you are never safe from an unexpected wave of fate.

My parents make me sleep with the light out. I'm scared of the dark and I don't want it to be turned off.

'We're not wasting electricity when you're asleep,' says Mum.

Mum and Dad don't give a tinker's cuss about dark streets or shadows in your bedroom.

'In the Blitz we had total blackout,' said Dad. 'With Gerry bombers roaring over London .'

He is always talking about the War. He says that because food was short back in England when the War was on, they used to eat cats but I don't believe him.

'What did they taste like?' I asked him once.

'Rabbit,' he said. 'Couldn't tell the difference. Wasn't a cat to be seen in our neighbourhood, I can tell you that.' He gave a short laugh at this.

Parents don't seem to know what it is like to be a kid. They live in a different world. They are not scared of the dark and they laugh at strange things. Eating cats is not funny. Nor are half-moon murderers who might escape from the Loony Bin.

Kate and I keep walking along the beach. The morning wind is cold and strong and our hair lashes our eyes and cheeks. Our feet sink into the wet sand, which makes it hard going.

She is a good girl is our Kate but she is two years younger than me. I wish she was a boy and older but she isn't. If she was a boy I could play with her and no one would say anything. It is all right to play with a brother but not with a sister. At school you are a sissy if you play with your sister and it is not allowed by the other boys who will tease you if they see. But today it doesn't matter because we are alone on the beach as we walk towards the grave.

I have been going to school in Warrongbool for six months and still I do not have a bunch of kids to play with. It is hard to make friends. Everybody already has a friend. They are worried that their best friend will like you better than them and then they will be alone and not you. So I wander around at lunchtime with no one to talk to. I have to look as if I don't care. But I do.

Ian Douglas has a group of friends and they might let me join. You have to do a dare if you want to be in their group. If you don't do the dare then you are a chicken and there will be no hope for you ever. I'm worried about this. The dare could be something scary like doing a burglary or climbing inside the Loony Bin. I think I will have to do the dare, though. Then I'll have friends. Even if they are tough kids.

'It's up there,' says Kate pointing to a little track that winds up through the windswept grasses on the sand dunes.

'I know,' I say in an annoyed voice. Kate has to realise that she is younger than me and I am the one who knows the way. But she doesn't seem to realise this. Kate is brave for her age.

The grave is not in a cemetery. It's all on its own in the sand dunes. No one seems to know who is buried there. It could have been someone who drowned when a convict ship sank off the reef many years ago. Probably a sailor. Maybe a soldier. Or the captain. It is a big grave with a concrete slab lying flat on top of it. All the letters have faded away except for part of a word – MANN.

We make our way to the top of the sand dune and look down on the grave. I gasp. So does Kate.

'It's true,' I say.