‘Excuse me, coming through . . .’ she said, pushing her way through the crowds until she saw what they were staring at. There, in the bathtub, was a fully-grown mermaid, singing to herself as she combed her long black hair. Patricia’s eyes narrowed. She plastered on a smile and turned to the crowds.

‘You see!’ she trilled. ‘I told you this would be a truly magical investment! Just a bit of fun – do keep looking around!’

She ushered everyone out and hissed at the mermaid, who blew a raspberry at her. Closing the door with a scowl, Patricia had a nasty feeling this wasn’t the only surprise she was in for today.

‘Aaaaaarrrrgh!’

The scream came from the master bedroom. Patricia barged past the concerned house viewers in the hallway.

‘I-I just wanted to see what the storage was like,’ said a trembling woman, pointing to a cupboard. ‘And then I found that – that – thing . . .’

Patricia yanked open the door of the cupboard. There inside was a . . . She wasn’t sure what it was. It was small, green and slimy, with worms hissing around its head. And it was grinning at her.

‘Plop!’ it squealed, giving her a cheeky wave.

Patricia shut the door firmly. This was the Hooper boy’s doing. She just knew it.

‘Please don’t be alarmed,’ she told the swelling crowd of people in the room. ‘The family that lived here before sadly had a very delinquent child – he was always up to mischief – this is merely one of his toys. They must have forgotten it when they . . . moved.’

She sensed her buyers’ unease. Time to get them out of the house.

‘Have you seen the paddock?’ she said, a little too loudly. ‘Why, it’s nearly the size of a football field. You could get—’

She stopped short as she looked out of the window. The paddock was indeed in use. By a group of centaurs, who were charging around the field.

‘You could get far too distracted looking at everything this property has to offer,’ she continued smoothly. ‘But will you look at that! It’s time for the auction to get underway. Hurry now, you’ll want a seaty near the front so the auctioneer can see you!’

She started to shepherd the buyers out of the bedroom and down the stairs, leading them to the makeshift auction area she had prepared for the occasion, studiously avoiding the paddock.

‘Welcome,’ said the auctioneer, as the buyers settled on the hay bales in front of him. ‘I am pleased to offer for sale the house and dwellings comprising “Home Farm” – an idyllic slice of rural Wiltshire.’

Patricia felt her shrivelled heart engorge with smug delight. It was happening. She had done it.

‘I’m delighted to say that this property has attracted considerable online interest,’ the auctioneer continued. ‘So I am starting the bidding at . . . five hundred thousand pounds!’