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‘Well, anyway, he played it and it Totally. Blew. Me. Away. And then when he said that he was mainly self-taught and had only bought his first guitar a couple of months before, I didn’t believe him to begin with. I’m not normally one for complimenting people, you know. I say things as I see them. But with him, I knew that he had talent. I asked whether he wanted to be a session musician.’

‘You mean like someone who tours with a band, playing guitar?’ I asked. Maybe Grandma Sylvie had been wrong?

‘Exactly.’

‘And what did he say?’ The faint drumming was starting at the base of my skull. I recalled sitting under Jack’s skylight and him showing me a heavy magnifying glass that he’d found in an antique shop. I remember distinctly that he said, ‘I want to be a detective. Loads of people are doctors, lawyers, bankers. But when did you last meet a real, excellent detective?’ It struck me that Dad wouldn’t like this career choice, but I didn’t say anything at the time.

‘He said that it wasn’t for him,’ said Finny.

‘He wants to be a detective,’ I surprised myself by saying it out loud. Jack’s secret, released into the open, suddenly sounded ridiculous.

‘Really?’ Finny raised an eyebrow. ‘He told me he wanted to be a teacher.’

‘Like you?’ asked Keira. I noticed that she’d been looking at Finny with admiration and swooping her braids behind her back every time she spoke to him.

‘Well, not so much like me. I teach sixth-form music and university students in the evenings. He wanted to teach younger kids. Before he left, he signed up to do a course in Music Therapy next year.’

‘Music Therapy?’

‘Yeah, you know, teaching young children with various difficulties to overcome them through music.’

I was dumbstruck. I wondered if Dad had any idea that Jack didn’t intend to take up his uni place to study Law, as planned. Dad had even arranged extra work experience at his chambers before Jack was due to start.

‘Jack worked with a young lad called Will at Little Angels which I think inspired him.’

This part I’d heard. Jack had talked about the lunchtime reading sessions in Year Thirteen that they’d been doing with kids at the nursery down the road. He’d particularly taken to Will, who was four and was delayed with speaking. Jack would tell me over dinner how it took him several weeks to persuade Will to say his name.

‘I honestly thought he couldn’t speak,’ Jack said, showing me a picture that Will had drawn him, which had pride of place on his noticeboard. ‘But it turned out that he was just nervous. He couldn’t bear to talk to anyone he didn’t know, and all the lights and sounds overwhelmed him. As soon as I got him to chill out, he got much better.’

I realised now that I’d never asked Jack how he’d managed that, but I had a feeling his guitar had been involved.

‘Did he sing to him?’ I asked, not quite able to picture Jack keeping a straight face while singing to a room full of little terrors.

‘I think he took him out of the classroom into a one-to-one room and played to him. Eventually Will was intrigued and started asking questions about his guitar. Then he opened up a bit and eventually Jack encouraged him to read aloud. Everyone was amazed, most of all Will’s teacher.’

‘So he definitely said that he wanted to teach?’ Keira asked. She’d stopped twisting her hair and was slowly tapping her foot on the floor, which she always did when she was thinking hard about something.

‘I think that was his plan, yeah.’

‘And did he say what age group?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure if he’d thought that far ahead. I suppose he loved working with younger kids, so my bet would be on that,’ said Finny. I could see that, like me, he was confused by the way the conversation was going. He started packing away his own guitar and I sensed that he was itching to leave. My gaze fell on the tiny key-shaped hole in his guitar case and I remembered the final question I needed to ask him.

‘Do you know anything about a key? One that Jack wore on a chain around his neck?’

For the first time, I saw a glimmer of recognition.

‘The Inca key?’

‘Sorry?’

‘He told me about the Inca key when I was covering detention once – this was long before Jack started doing guitar lessons with me. He was there for playing a joke on Mr Bemowski – it was the week before Christmas. He’d set a series of tiny alarm clocks to go off at three-minute intervals throughout the lesson. They were hidden under every third desk in the room and they each played a few notes of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”. Mr Bemowski found out that Jack was the culprit, because he was the only one looking at his watch and trying not to laugh. He later said that he wanted to find out how quickly somebody in his class would figure out the pattern, and also whether they’d realise what song it was.’

Keira was giggling behind her hand and Finny himself had a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he told the story.

‘Mr Bemowski didn’t see the funny side?’

‘No. He set Jack a piece of research into what he would recommend as the next Wonder of the World and why. Jack clearly didn’t see this as a punishment. He was so absorbed that he was the last one in the form room when everyone else had left. I started talking to him about it and he told me all about this Inca gold and the key that was linked to it.’

‘The Inca gold? What’s that?’

‘Well, I think he took the word “wonder” a bit too seriously, as in something that makes you wonder.’

‘Like a riddle?’

‘I suppose. He’d read somewhere about these amazing treasure chests that were stolen from a

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