I set off down a lane somewhere in the middle of the Forest and charged on, kicking the birds out of the way. I did not stay in that one lane of chimney stacks but kept switching, diving further in, turning left here, then right, then right again, once more a right, then a left, count three four five now turn, back up a bit, left, left, down this one a long way, switch lanes again, down another path and left here, on a bit and turn around, quickly quickly, anyone there, birds and chimneys, quick get behind one, which one, this one. A tall multiple stack with five pots at its top, here I crouched and heaved and panted. I stuffed James Henry further down just in case, and waited and panted, panted, waited, and wondered. Who is that person? What is he? Where did he come from? How did he come to be like that, so strange and stretched?

There he was again. He wasn’t in my lane, he was three or four lanes away, but so tall that he was longer than the chimneys and the top of him peeked up above them. He was pushing at some of the chimneys, knocking them down; at larger ones he leant over to look inside, inserting his long hands into the limited interiors and pulling out, on occasion, birds’ nests and a gull or two and when the birds bit and shrieked at him he smacked them away, not hurt at all, undeterred. He selected chimneys, one here, one over there, stamping among them and peeking within, coming closer to me until I saw his shadow upon my own lane. He was only two chimneys away, the shadow darkening all before me, but then his long legs hurried him on again, and I waited and shook, my face hard against the rough clay, and each time when I thought him gone, I would catch him again, his tall hat seen above the Forest.

At last I thought I must try it, I should have to or my head would explode. I stepped out a little, I could not see him, I looked down the path of stacks east and west, I could not see him, I trod out, I could not see him. In the distance was the rusting dome that marked the top of the spiralling staircase that would safely deliver me back down into the house, but between me and the metal stairway were whole streets and lanes of chimneys and he might be waiting for me, behind or to the side of any one of those.

I couldn’t see him. Now or never.

He’s gone, I said to myself, whoever he was, he’s certainly gone.

I ran.

And then, suddenly, there he was again.