‘Where were we up to, then?’ With luck he won’t remember.

‘The shepherd. Dougal. Nearly sunset. Guessing all the things that might be the Red Giant’s most precious possession. If he didn’t guess in time he’d be thrown off the cliff. If he did guess he’d get the treasure and take it home and marry the beautiful fey woman.’

He’s remembered every little thing. ‘It’s a sad story,’ I say. ‘A sad, sad story.’

‘Tell me!’ Sounds like he’s going to leap up and throttle me if I don’t. Sounds like he’s so desperate to hear it he might do anything.

‘It’s only a tale.’

I hear him sucking in a big breath. Maybe not going to kill me after all. Not that he could. But he might do a bit of damage. ‘Grim, tell me.’

‘Sun was just about down, sky had that sort of smudgy look,’ I say, wishing he hadn’t pushed me into this. Wondering if I should change the end of the story. But that would feel wrong. A kind of insult, as if he was a child, too young to hear the truth. ‘Dougal was nearly out of time. Wondering if he could bolt for it before the giant pushed him off the cliff. Once he was on the narrow path down, the sheep track, he should be safe. Getting there was the tricky bit.

‘“Well?” bellowed the Red Giant. “Run out of answers, have you?”

‘Then came a little sound from inside the giant’s cave, like a whimper or a wail, not much of a thing at all, but Dougal heard it. “A baby,” he said without thinking. “Of course, the most precious thing is a baby.” Then, a bit too late, he did think. Started to get an idea of what this would mean, for him, for the beautiful fey woman, and most of all for the Red Giant. “Listen,” he began. But the Red Giant wasn’t listening. He’d gone into the cave and now he came out with his face all blotched with tears and his baby in his arms. A giant baby, of course. No tidy wee bundle, but a big bulky thing the size of a full-grown sheep. Wailing its head off. “Listen,” said Dougal again, “I –”

‘He was going to say, I can’t take your child, forget the whole thing. But, with a great sob, the giant laid the child down gently at the shepherd’s feet. “Oh, my wee one,” he murmured. “Oh, my heart’s dearie.” Then he turned and took two great strides forward, and before Dougal could get another word out, the Red Giant leaped off the clifftop. Like thunder, the noise of it was. Rocks crashed down all about him. In far-off places, folk remarked, That must be quite a storm. The sound of his landing was terrible to hear. “Oh gods,” muttered Dougal. “What have I done?”