It was true. The youngsters had crowded around the young man, and by some mysterious magic he had calmed them down, and was now leading them back to the teacher.

Like the Pied Piper, Della thought, considering him with her head on one side.

‘OK, that’s enough,’ he said, approaching. ‘Cool it, kids.’

‘Whatever do you think you’re doing?’ Hilda demanded of the youngsters. ‘You know I told you to stay close to me.’

‘But it’s boring,’ complained the boy who’d made a run for it. ‘I don’t care if it is,’ she snapped, goaded into honesty. ‘I’ve brought you here to get some culture, and that’s what you’re going to get.’

Della heard a soft choke nearby, and turned to see Carlo fighting back laughter. Since she was doing the same herself, a moment of perfect understanding flashed between them. They both put their hands over their mouths at the same moment.

Predictably, the word culture had caused the pupils to emit groans of dismay. Some howled to heaven, others clutched their stomachs. One joker even rolled on the ground.

‘Now she’s done it,’ Carlo muttered to Della. ‘The forbidden word-one that should never be spoken, save in a terrified whisper. And she said it out loud.’

‘What word is that?’

He looked wildly around, to be sure nobody was listening, before saying in a ghostly voice, ‘Culture.’

‘Oh, yes, I see.’ She nodded knowingly.

‘You’d think a modern schoolteacher would know better. Does she do that often?’

‘I don’t know-I’m not-’ she began, realising that he thought she was one of the school party.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s time for a rescue operation.’ Raising his voice, he said, ‘You can all calm down, because this place has nothing to do with culture. This place is about people dying.’ For good measure he added, ‘Horribly!’

Hilda was aghast. ‘He mustn’t say things like that. They’re just children.’