‘That must be why it’s chosen you, then,’ said Lana. ‘Because you’re not normal either.’

‘Well, I’m glad I’m not if you think you are,’ said James.

Dr Jones was still over with Stinky and, rather worryingly, Staring Crone had joined him. She was stamping her feet loudly in a regular beat on the Jellyfish’s surface.

Probably the most controversial activity we do on the Jellyfish is the choirs. I think the plan was . . . well, no, I don’t remember there being a plan, actually. But anyway, we do have regular choir rehearsals. Old Albert has a group that does mainly sea shanties. I don’t think anybody knew any sea shanties before they started the group, so they’ve had to invent their own. Some of them sound good, but after the fifteenth verse, you’ve usually had enough of even a good thing, to be honest. And those are the short ones. When the sea shanty crew look like they’re gearing up for one of their really epic songs, there’s usually a drift towards the opposite side of the Jellyfish. And right now, it looked suspiciously like Old Albert’s crew was forming at the far end of the Jellyfish, whilst Stinky’s group was gathering in the middle. It looked like we were in for a real session this morning.

‘Shall we put our things away, do you think?’ said Kate.

We had mostly finished by now, but it looked like Dr Jones was thinking about joining the classical choir by the Big House. Her hands were out, and her fingers bent like she was about to start playing the air piano. She nodded her head at Crone . . . and they were off! Stinky started moving his arm back and forth, though he was wailing more quietly now. Dr Jones was making ‘plink plonk’ noises, that I think she once said were chords. Staring Crone started stomping more rhythmically, and a couple of others joined in with air trumpets: ‘Doo, doo, doooo!’

‘Oh dear,’ said Kate. She spoke for us all.

Lana folded up her work with a dramatic sigh, whilst James threw his over his shoulder into the sea. He likes to do that most days, I think because it means he doesn’t have to tidy up.

‘What shall we do now?’ said Kate. ‘Shall we have a sing?’

She said it more politely than excitedly, because I think she wasn’t that keen herself.

‘Nah, you’re all right,’ said Lana. ‘I’d rather eat a rotting pile of raw seaweed.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ said James. ‘Eating contest? Who’s in?’

‘NO!’

‘No.’

‘Nope.’

‘But think of the diarrhoea!’

‘We are, James. That’s why none of us want to do it.’

‘It’s funny, though.’

‘Nope. No, it’s not.’