'Okay,' said Kylie the next morning, when they had climbed almost to the top of Haworth Main Street, 'so it's not quite as bad as Butt Lane, but it's still pretty damn steep. Let's sit down on those steps beside the Black Bull.'

The Black Bull was a pub, and next to it was a church fronted by a wide set of stone steps. Eduardo and Kylie sat down at the side of these steps, though Eduardo pointed out, 'We're practically at the top.'

'I know,' said Kylie, 'but I kind of wanted to take a look at the pub anyway. You're supposed to see it when you come here because it's where Branwell Brontë drank himself to death.'

'You mentioned him at the grave, didn't you?' said Eduardo. 'So what'd he write?'

'That's a sensitive question,' said Kylie. 'He wrote a few poems that were published locally, and he used to write with his sisters when they were all kids, but he never made it big like they did even though he really, really wanted it. At least that's what they say. But then why didn't he finish his novel? He could've had a better stab at it then.'

'You'd have to ask him,' said Eduardo. 'Look, there's a plaque about him there, if his full name was Patrick Branwell Brontë.'

'It was,' said Kylie, following his gaze to the near wall of the pub. She jumped to her feet. 'Take a picture of me standing by it. I don't look too red and sweaty, do I?'

'You look beautiful,' said Eduardo, so she went to pose and he took the picture.

'Now,' said Kylie afterwards, 'if I'm not very much mistaken, this is Patrick Brontë Senior's actual church, and the Parsonage Museum is behind it. But we have to walk up and around to get to it.'

'Why can't we cut through the churchyard?'

'I don't know – maybe there isn't a way through. Anyway, this sign is telling us to climb that last little bit of hill, so I think we should do what it says.'

They carried on walking, turned left and soon found themselves outside the Brontë Parsonage Museum.

'You sure you don't mind me not coming in with you?' said Eduardo, who had brought his Harry Potter book with him.

'If I wanted you to spend money on doing something you're not interested in,' said Kylie, 'I'd tell you. Then you'd think I was unreasonable, and you'd be right, and we wouldn't enjoy ourselves for the rest of the trip. We might even go home early. So yes, I'm sure.'

'You could've just said yes,' said Eduardo.

Kylie smiled, made herself taller to kiss him and said, 'Thank you for walking up the hill with me, sweetie. I'll come and find you when I'm done.'

She trotted off to the museum, and Eduardo went to find a seat in the churchyard, where he settled down to continue reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He had got a good way into it when Kylie found him, sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder.

'Was it good?' he asked.

'It was amazing,' said Kylie. 'I saw some of the tiny little books they made as children where the writing's so small no one can read it, and I saw their bedrooms, and I saw their dogs' actual dog collars, and... oh, all kinds of things! I almost bought Charlotte's three other novels in the gift shop, but then I imagined myself carrying them all around Europe and I just thought, no.'

'I'm glad you enjoyed it,' said Eduardo. 'Makes climbing all these hills worthwhile to see you so happy.'

'That's sweet,' said Kylie. 'So how are Harry and friends getting along?'

'Um... weirdly,' said Eduardo. 'The plot's kinda... I mean, it's really... I don't know how much sense it really makes. I don't want to spoil it for you, but... well, for one thing, no one seems to think they should be taking any real precautions against Voldemort coming after Harry.'

'Can he do that?' asked Kylie.

'Well he has Peter Pettigrew to help him now, remember, and I'm pretty sure he's planning something. Well, I guess I'll find out. So, what do you wanna do next?'

'I'd like to go for a walk on the moors,' said Kylie, 'but maybe you don't want to do that.'

'Why wouldn't I want to do that?'

'Well, I got this guidebook in the museum, and it's quite a long walk they recommend for Brontë enthusiasts.'

'I've just been sitting here for like two hours,' said Eduardo, 'and we only have to walk back down to the Fleece Inn later, not get a bus and three trains like yesterday. Let's do it after we've had some lunch. We could have it in the Black Bull.'

Soon enough, Kylie found herself seated at a table in the Black Bull pub, flicking through Eduardo's book until he came over with drinks.

'Don't spoil it for yourself,' he said as he sat down.

'You're right,' said Kylie, closing the book and pushing it to the corner of the table. 'I just felt awkward sitting here by myself. Why don't they come to the tables and take orders like at the Fleece Inn?'

'Some of the places in Whitby were like that, weren't they?' said Eduardo. 'Maybe it's the difference between a pub and an inn or something – I don't know.'

'I guess maybe I'm not being fair to this place,' said Kylie. 'I just like the Fleece Inn so much! I haven't experienced the pulpy orange juice like you, and that chicken and bacon sandwich was amazing. I would never have expected so much just from a chicken and bacon sandwich.'

'This place has more history, though, right?' said Eduardo. 'Aren't you getting warm fuzzies from being in the same place as that Brontë dude?'

'I don't know, kind of,' said Kylie, looking at her surroundings. 'Not like in the museum, though – not anything like. The thing about Branwell is, he was a drug addict and an alcoholic and his father had to save him from debtors' prison and he kept getting fired from all his jobs and there were so many more expectations on him than his sisters – who turned out to be geniuses, by the way – just because he was the only boy!'

'Maybe that's the problem – he cracked under the pressure,' said Eduardo. 'It's not his fault he lived in a time when people expected more of men than women.'

'Yeah, I guess so,' said Kylie. 'He didn't have to go completely to pieces, though, did he?'

A bang interrupted their conversation, making them both jump slightly. Then Kylie looked and saw that Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire had dropped onto the floor. She stooped to pick it up, saying, 'I didn't think I put it that near the edge.'

'Maybe the table slopes,' said Eduardo.

'I don't know why it has to be so big,' said Kylie, turning the book over in her hands before she put it down. 'I don't guess every word is vital to the story.'

'You're so right,' said Eduardo.

'Do you want to take it back to our room before we go for our walk?'

'I'm not going down the hill and up again – I'd rather carry it around the moor with me.'

'That's understandable,' said Kylie. 'Still, you might regret it if it starts to get heavy.'

'You don't think I can handle this moor walk at all, do you?' Eduardo said good-naturedly. 'Are we gonna walk for miles and miles and miles and pretend we're Cathy and Heathcliff?'

Kylie stared at him astonishment. 'How do you know they're the characters in Wuthering Heights? You haven't read it, have you? I bet you haven't read it!'

'No, I haven't,' said Eduardo. 'I must've just picked that up. I mean, there's lots of references on TV and stuff about them being in love with each other and running all over the countryside, aren't there? That's all I know about them.'

'Yeah?' said Kylie. 'You don't know that she marries someone else and then dies halfway in?'

'No. What the hell kind of love story is that?'

'A tragic one, of course. It's to do with Victorian society and class and stuff.'

'Well,' said Eduardo, 'I guess that fits in with the atmosphere everyone associates with it – kind of dark and wild and dangerous.'

'If "everyone" knows that much about it,' said Kylie, 'it must be even more famous than I thought. I haven't read it for a few years, but I seem to remember there are some really beautiful passages in there. What's that really famous one? Oh, something about loving Heathcliff because, um... "because he's more myself than I am." Yes, that's it! "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." Isn't that something, sweetie?'

'Er, yeah, I guess so.'

'I don't guess I really got what she meant by that the first time,' Kylie went on. 'I think I should read it again, now that I'm so very much in love.'

She smiled at him across the table, and he smiled back. For a long moment, they were lost in each other's eyes. Then they were startled out of that moment when, once again, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire slammed onto the floor. This time, Eduardo stooped to pick it up, saying, 'That is very, very weird. It wasn't even near the edge that time!'

After lunch they spent some time wandering through green spaces alongside medium-sized roads with occasional traffic, then along narrow footpaths with occasional pedestrians, until they ended up on a hill overlooking a slim but lengthy waterfall running down craggy rocks.

'Yay, here it is!' said Kylie, hopping down some uneven stone steps.

'Be careful!' Eduardo called after her. 'I don't want to have to carry you all that way back because you sprained your ankle or something.'

'Be careful yourself,' Kylie called back to him, as he began to descend after her. 'You and those impractical boots of yours!'

When they reached the bottom of the steps, they sat down on the ground and put their arms around each other.

'So you specifically wanted to see this?' Eduardo asked.

'Yes,' said Kylie. 'The Brontës used to like it here – we know that because they wrote about it. Or at least Charlotte did, anyway.'

'Long way for them to come from their house. We must've walked about three miles.'

'Two and three quarters, it says in my guidebook.'

'Yeah? What else does it say?'

Kylie produced her guidebook from her back pocket and opened it at a certain page. She ran her eyes down it and said, 'Nothing, really – it mostly just describes the route. Would you agree those were "reasonable footpaths"?'

'Oh yes, very civilised.'

'It says the waterfall looks best when it's been raining, but then it warns you about the route here being muddy in wet weather. You're damned if you do and you damned if you don't, huh? There are a couple of other places listed here that "might have" inspired the Brontës, but that sounds like they're getting kind of desperate, doesn't it?'

'What places?' Eduardo asked.

'Well,' said Kylie, 'another mile and a quarter away, there's an old abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere with a ruined farmhouse that "might have" been Emily's inspiration for Wuthering Heights, but then it also says Emily is "unlikely" to have gone there.'

'How does anyone think they know that?' asked Eduardo. 'She might've been there. So there's a farm in the middle of nowhere in Wuthering Heights, is there?'

'Yes,' said Kylie. 'Wuthering Heights is the name of the farmhouse.'

'And this place is called Top Withens,' Eduardo said, reading over Kylie's shoulder. 'Well, that's almost the same name!'

'Well... yeah, okay, I can see what you mean,' said Kylie. 'Are you saying you wanna go see it?'

'Yeah, why the hell not? If you come up here where there's all this countryside, it's stupid not to walk around in it and explore – not if you got all day to do it. What a good thing we don't have to get back to Keighley tonight.'

'Okay, well, it's three thirty,' said Kylie, looking at her watch. 'If we start now, we'll probably get there around four, and then if we stay for an hour or so the walk back should be nicely timed for dinner. All right, let's do this!'

They got to their feet, and Eduardo picked up his Harry Potter book. On doing so, he paused and stared just long enough for Kylie to ask, 'Are you okay? Ants gotten into it or something?'

'Maybe I'm not okay,' said Eduardo. 'Just for a second, I could've sworn I saw the name Brontë on here instead of Rowling.'

'You got Brontës on the brain,' said Kylie, slipping her arm through his. 'Hardly surprising. We now have to go over the Brontë Bridge, and then up the steep path.'

'Couldn't be as steep as Butt Lane.'

'Perhaps almost, though, and it'll be a lot longer. This place we're going to is right at the top of a hill, it says.'

'Well, there's a surprise.'

They walked steadily onwards, conditions getting windier the higher they climbed, until finally they were at Top Withens and Kylie found herself being almost blown straight back down the hill. She clung onto Eduardo, and they managed to get to the ruined farmhouse and the shelter of its walls without further incident.

'Killer view,' Eduardo remarked. 'You can barely see any civilisation at all from here. Must've been quite an undertaking to get their eggs and stuff to market, huh?'

'I don't guess they thought much about four miles each way back then,' said Kylie. 'Oh look, there's a plaque about Emily and Wuthering Heights.' She walked over to it, and read a bit out loud. 'The buildings, even when complete, bore no resemblance to the house she described. What, none at all? I didn't think it'd turn out to have as little to do with her as that!'

'It's still a nice place, though,' said Eduardo, going over to Kylie and putting his arms around her. 'It was worth coming up here. Mmm, now that gives me an idea...'

Kylie squealed and giggled stupidly as Eduardo began to kiss her neck. 'Eduardo, we can't! A whole party of Brontë enthusiasts could come bursting in on us at any moment!'

'It'd make their day,' Eduardo grinned, dropping his Harry Potter on the ground, 'and distract them from that disappointing plaque. But I guess you're right, really – we'd better keep our clothes on.'

'If we took them off,' said Kylie, 'they'd probably blow away.'

They laughed and kissed and nibbled each other for some time while Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire lay in the grass, forgotten for the moment, its front cover and first few pages raised a little by the wind. When the book flew wide open, however, and the pages began rapidly turning one by one, Eduardo pulled away from the embrace and said, 'Okay, there is definitely something going on with this book. I think it's possessed or something.'

'Oh, please no,' said Kylie, scowling down at the book. 'We're supposed to be on vacation!'

Just then, the book was suddenly whipped into the air. Eduardo lunged and grabbed it, and found himself in a tug-of-war against some invisible force. Finally he won, or his opponent conceded, and he went hurtling backwards into the Wuthering Heights plaque.

'Are you okay?' Kylie asked anxiously.

'I'm fine,' said Eduardo, looking at the cover of his book, 'which is more than can be said for this! Would you look at that?'

Kylie looked, and saw that in the place of the author's name were inscribed the words Patrick Branwell Brontë.

'I don't believe this!' said Kylie. 'Get out of there, Branwell! Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.'

'Plagiarism's not so great neither,' Eduardo added.

Both looked a little surprised when a voice answered them with, 'You have no basis for this claim, sir. I am J.K. Rowling!'

Kylie looked at the book with contempt, then turned to Eduardo and said, 'I don't know what we can do about this with all our equipment in New York. Maybe we should just leave him to it.'

'But then won't he start possessing J.K. Rowling or changing her name to his on all the Harry Potter books or something?' Eduardo asked worriedly.

'Oh, he's probably not powerful enough for that.'

'You mean like this place "probably" wasn't the basis for Wuthering Heights? Maybe it was!'

'Not if that plaque is anything to go by,' said Kylie. 'Anyway, if he's as powerful as all that, why hasn't he tried something like this before? I'll just bet he can't do anything more than possess that one book.'

'Well, I don't want that one book possessed!' said Eduardo. 'It was a gift from you.'

'Aww, that's sweet,' said Kylie, smiling and wrapping her arms around his waist. 'And to think I said it wouldn't hurt to have your birthday present a little early! So what can we do?'

'I don't know,' said Eduardo. 'Just talk to him, I guess?'

They drew apart and exchanged a baffled look as the ghost took on a human appearance, then seated himself in an invisible chair in a corner of the ruined room. Suddenly the book was whipped out of Eduardo's hands again, and Branwell held it open on his lap, saying to some imaginary person or people, 'Oh yes, my sisters knew nothing about this. They kept their silly girlish scribblings from me, thinking they were saving me from hard feelings, but in the meantime, I was writing this! My magnum opus! Of course, I never dreamed of the worldwide success my humble little book series would have. My inspiration, you ask? Well...' He flicked through the book. 'Fleur Delacour was inspired by a very beautiful woman whom I once loved.'

Kylie turned to Eduardo and said, 'See, he's just playing.'

'He's nuts,' said Eduardo.

'He's like a spoilt child. Maybe he'll get bored if we just leave him alone.'

'What if he doesn't? I want my book back! Hey!' Eduardo called, taking a few steps towards the ghost. 'Branwell, man, have you actually read that thing?'

Branwell glared at him. 'I wrote it.'

'Does your father know about that?' Eduardo asked. 'He's a priest, right? He can't be too happy about your writing that, man.'

Branwell stood up, puffed out his chest and said, 'My father is extremely proud of me, actually!'

'He is?' said Eduardo, feigning surprise. 'Your father, the local parson, is proud that you're publishing a book series about witchcraft?'

'Witchcraft?' Branwell said doubtfully, looking down at the book in his ghostly hands.

'Well, yeah,' said Eduardo. 'Look at that picture. That's Harry flying around on a broomstick with a dragon trying to kill him. You must remember writing that part.'

'Well,' said Branwell, 'I, er... that is... well, obviously it's an allegory!'

'For what?'

'Well, the dragon represents er, um...'

'Well that explains everything!' Kylie cut in, with a contemptuous sneer at Branwell. 'Thank God we have you to warn us against the evils of er, um!'

'Um, Kylie,' Eduardo said uncertainly. 'Maybe we shouldn't make him too mad.'

'Why not?' said Kylie. 'What's he gonna do? The guy's completely useless!'

Eduardo winced as she said this, apparently expecting serious consequences of some kind, but these were not forthcoming. Branwell merely dropped the book, glared at it and said, 'I need a drink.' Then he vanished.

'Typical,' said Kylie, as Eduardo went to retrieve his book. 'I knew I didn't like that guy.'

'I almost feel sorry for him,' said Eduardo. 'Didn't he go through life feeling useless, having his poetry rejected and getting fired from his jobs and stuff?'

'I wouldn't say what I just said to anyone who tried to do the right thing,' said Kylie. 'You don't know why he was fired from his jobs. When he was a tutor, he didn't have to have an affair with the kids' mom, did he? And when he was a railway clerk, he didn't have to embezzle money, did he? Okay, so he was disappointed he didn't make it as a writer or an artist, but that's not so easy and he didn't exactly make the best of things when he found that out, did he?'

'He was an alcoholic,' said Eduardo. 'We should probably have some sympathy with him these days.'

'Yeah, well, maybe. If addiction ruined his life, that'd be understandable. But it didn't – he ruined his life because he was an idiot, and then he turned to alcohol.'

'Wow, you really don't like him, huh?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Kylie said, her tone suddenly softening. 'I didn't know him. He obviously wasn't perfect, but neither am I, and like you said, things were different when he was around. I really didn't like his ghost, though. It seems like all that's left is egotism, jealousy and blind ambition.'

'That's too bad,' said Eduardo. 'We probably picked him up in the Black Bull. People must go in there all the time and talk about how amazing his sisters' books are, just like we were doing. I guess he finally snapped – maybe because we had a bestselling book on the table as well.'

'Too bad he's gone back there,' said Kylie. 'I guess it really is too late for him now. Poor guy.'

'Well, you've sure changed your tune.'

'Yeah, well, I feel bad that I was so hard on him while you were being so understanding. You're such a great guy, Eduardo.' So saying she walked over to him, gave him a long, lingering kiss and then said huskily, 'Maybe we should be getting back now.'

'Are you sure?' said Eduardo. 'There's nothing else you want to see here?'

'Um... well, I'll check.' Kylie snapped out of her trance, reached into her back pocket, produced her guidebook and read out loud, 'To the rear of the ruin there is a window just above ground with "Dairy" carved on the lintel. This exempted that window from window tax.'

'Seriously?' said Eduardo. 'That's so stupid! We have to see that – where is it?'

Kylie laughed as he moved around the ruin and began examining the rear windows.

A few hours later, back at the Fleece Inn, Kylie emerged from the en-suite bathroom and got onto the bed beside Eduardo, who was reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

'I hope you're being careful,' said Kylie. 'A guy could have a nasty accident reading a big hardcover in the nude like that.'

'I'll put some clothes on if you're worried,' said Eduardo.

'Don't you dare,' said Kylie, and snuggled up to him. She waited until he had turned the page to a new chapter, then plucked the book out of his hand and said, 'I hope it's getting more interesting now, since you fought so hard to keep it.'

'I don't know,' said Eduardo. 'I really wanna know what happens – J.K. hasn't lost her touch where that's concerned – but I'm still not sure about the story. I had more up my sleeve for Branwell, you know. I was gonna ask him about the plot holes... might've made his head explode or something.'

Kylie laughed. 'You wouldn't have wanted to do that, would you? You had so much sympathy for him.'

'I had sympathy for the guy who lived here a hundred and fifty years ago or so,' said Eduardo, 'but it's like you said – his ghost sucks. Anyway, I couldn't kill him since he's already dead; maybe he'd have ended up somewhere he could be happier.'

'You mean like Heaven?'

'Yeah, or whatever's out there.'

'Okay,' said Kylie, beginning to slide her hand across his body, 'enough talk.'

'Before we do,' said Eduardo, halting her hand with his own, 'remind me what's happening tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow we're making our way to the Orkney Islands.'

'Why does that name sound familiar?'

'Remember that selkie we had to bust a couple years ago?' said Kylie. 'She told Roland she came from there.'

'Oh,' said Eduardo. 'So that's Scotland, right?'

'Right, and again, the transport around here doesn't make it easy. The first thing we have to do is get back to Keighley, but we won't use the steam train again – that was kind of an extravagance.'

'It didn't cost that much.'

'No,' said Kylie, 'but a bus will cost less.'

'Do we have to get it from that stop we passed on our walk?'

'No. We're getting it from a road that runs parallel to Butt Lane i.e. down the hill.'

'Thank God for that.'

'We have to be in York in plenty of time for the one train a day that goes straight to Inverness,' Kylie went on, 'and that's a six-hour journey, so we should get some reading done. We'll get in around eight in the evening, and have dinner at another chain hotel I've booked us into. We're staying one night, and in the morning we'll get a plane to Orkney.'

'Well, that part sounds nice and simple.'

'Yeah, except that Inverness Airport is miles away from the station.'

'Is it eight miles like we walked today?'

'It probably is about that, actually, yeah.'

'Well,' said Eduardo, 'we can decide as we go, can't we? That's one of the great things about a trip like this, making decisions when we come to them.'

'That's right,' Kylie said seductively, wriggling even closer to him and wrapping him in her arms and legs. 'Once we get started, we can see exactly what we feel like.'