Harriet Lane

Then she got the torch out from under her pillow, where it was not supposed to be, and she got the notebook from under the torch, and she wrote, in the dark, in wobbly letters:

Night 1. Half past nine. Humming. Three notes and a wiggle. Kitchen.

She listened some more. The humming went on for a long time, and then it stopped, all at once, like someone had closed a door on it.

Juno thought about getting up. She thought about the long dark hall and the cold floor. She decided to think about it tomorrow.

The second night it came again. Half past nine. Three notes and a wiggle.