He heard the word, chicken, repeated in his head.

Come on. Do it.

His hand was raised, inches from the door before he realised he’d even walked up the path. He had a moment of sheer panic as his knuckles rapped on the glass. What was he doing here, really? He’d never even spoken to Eliza before – most of the kids at school picked on her, said she was weird like her dad, and ‘one sandwich short of a picnic’. And even Robert agreed she was. Eliza was bound to tell him to go away now, and if she didn’t, her father surely would. He was so stupid. His mum and Mrs Fisher were right. It wasn’t a good idea to be here.

There was no answer anyway, so Robert turned his back, his legs ready to make a run for it. But what if Creepy Cawley thought he was playing Knock, Knock, Ginger? He’d chase him down the street. Robert dithered on the step, not sure what to do.

Stay. Grow up. You’re almost ten years old, not a baby.

He knocked again, then shut his eyes tight. His heart was going to leap out from his chest any minute. A breeze swept across his face at the same time he heard a whooshing noise. The front door had been opened so quickly he’d felt the movement of air. He held his breath, for good measure, and waited for the shouting to begin.

‘Open your eyes, boy!’ A booming voice came from in front of him. Robert’s eyes sprung open. A pain in his groin gripped him and he held onto himself in the hope he wasn’t about to pee his pants.

‘What do you want?’ Creepy Cawley’s frown seemed to take up his entire face – creases upon creases, making him look like a scary old man. No wonder all the kids were afraid of him. Up close he was even worse than how Robert had imagined him. An ogre, even. Robert opened his mouth, but only a squeak came from it.

‘I – er … I—’

‘Spit it out, boy! If you’re meant to be playing that stupid game, I’m afraid you’ve not grasped the point. You’re meant to knock, then run away?’ He raised both eyebrows, displaying wide, dark eyes.

‘I’m not … I wasn’t playing it.’

‘So? Again, what do you want? I haven’t got all day.’

‘I wanted to see Eliza,’ Robert managed to say through his tightening throat.

‘What for?’

Robert put his hand in his pocket and took the crumpled bag out, holding it up towards Creepy Cawley. ‘I brought her some sweets.’ His voice sounded weak. Scared. He coughed and took a deep breath before speaking again. ‘My teacher said it’s nice to do things for other people when they’re sad.’ He dared to look into the man’s eyes and give a small smile.

‘Right. I see.’ Creepy Cawley nodded, slowly, and Robert thought he saw the hint of a smile on the man’s thin lips. ‘You’d better come in, then.’ And he swung the door open wider to let Robert walk inside.