‘How dare you!’ she cried. ‘Enough! I demand to go home!’

‘Yous just ain’t getting this, are you?’ whistled Hades, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. ‘You ain’t going nowhere. Not till you’ve raised a thousand pounds for charity.’

‘Over my dead body,’ said Patricia defiantly.

‘That can be arranged,’ Hades grinned.

Patricia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She wasn’t going to talk her way out of this one. This perturbed her. Still, actions spoke louder than words – that’s why she regularly stamped on the feet of people shouting out about their charity magazines, the anti-social brutes. She snatched the tabard and the clipboard. She was a masterful saleswoman, this would take no time at all.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to a woman approaching down the street. ‘Could I have a moment of your time—’

‘Get a proper job,’ snarled the woman, striding past.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Patricia to a passing man. ‘I wonder if you might—’

‘Get lost,’ he shouted.

‘I was just wondering if you’d—’

‘Scrounger!’ yelled a young woman, tossing her empty takeaway carton at Patricia’s feet.

‘How dare you . . . I want to leave. Now!’ Patricia demanded, stamping her court shoe on the ground to hide the tremor in her voice.

‘No can doos,’ said Hades, walking away with a satisfied grin. ‘Good luck, dollface.’

‘Wait . . . where are you going?’ said Patricia, trying to calm the panic in her voice. There was a definite possibility she wasn’t going to get what she wanted.

‘Like I say – call me when you’ve raised a thousand pounds,’ said Hades, strolling back towards his car.

‘But . . . that could take for ever!’ wailed Patricia.

‘You’d better believe it,’ smiled Hades, turning around with a wink. ‘See ya, Mrs Horse’s-Bum.’

‘IT’S PORSHLEY-PLUM!’ Patricia screamed after the retreating car. ‘COME BACK! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

24. Home Farm

24. Home Farm

‘Elliot?’ said Zeus, gently pushing open the door to Home Farm. ‘Welcome home.’

It was the sweetest thing Elliot had heard for months. He looked around his beloved farmhouse. The Gods had quickly eradicated any trace of Patricia Porshley-Plum’s decor and returned Home Farm to its shabby, rundown, worn-out old self. Just how Elliot loved it.

The wave of grief floated up from his heart when he saw Josie’s empty chair by the fire. Knowing she would never sit there again, gently rocking and humming to herself, brought the familiar pain rising to the back of his throat. But no sooner did his eyes brim with tears than he felt warm arms around him. Athene walked over to the chair and carefully laid Josie’s patchwork quilt over it.

‘Let’s keep it warm, shall we?’ she smiled.

Elliot could only nod his grateful thanks. He looked around the cosy farmhouse. He was finally home.

But one thing remained on his mind.

‘So?’ he asked. ‘What now?’