‘Adolf and Stalin,’ said Sir John, to the whole world in general. ‘Of course, these two are only their descendants. It turned out that Adolf was female. Or was it Stalin?’

Outside the window, the gardens stretched all the way to some rolling hills that Sir John’s landscape gardener had imported specially.

‘Blackbury,’ said Sir John, staring at them. ‘That’s where it all started. The whole thing. There was a boy called Johnny Maxwell. And Mrs Tachyon. And a cat, I think.’

He turned.

‘Are you still here?’

‘Sorry, Sir John,’ said the secretary, backing out and shutting the door behind him.

‘That’s where it all started,’ said Sir John. ‘And that’s where it’s all going to end.’

Johnny always enjoyed those first few moments in the morning before the day leapt out at him. His head was peacefully full of flowers, clouds, kittens—

His hand still hurt.

Horrible bits of last night rushed out from hiding and bounced and gibbered in front of him.

There was a shopping trolley full of unspeakable bags in the garage. There was also a spray of milk across the wall and ceiling where Guilty had showed what he thought of people who tried to give him an unprovoked meal. Johnny had had to use the biggest Elastoplast in the medicine tin afterwards.

He got up, dressed, and went downstairs. His mother wouldn’t be up yet and his grandad was definitely in the front room watching Saturday morning TV.

Johnny opened the garage door and stepped back hurriedly, in case a ball of maddened fur came spinning out.

Nothing happened.

The dreadful trolley stood in the middle of the floor. There was no sign of Guilty.

It was, Johnny thought, just like those scenes in films where you know the monster is in the room somewhere …

He jumped sideways, just in case Guilty was about to drop out of the ceiling.

It was bad enough seeing the wretched cat. Not seeing it was worse.

He scurried out and shut the door quickly, then went back into the house.

He probably ought to tell someone official. The trolley belonged to Mrs Tachyon (actually, it probably belonged to Mr Tesco or Mr Safeway) so it might be stealing if he kept it.

As he went back inside, the phone rang. There were two ways he could tell. Firstly, the phone rang. Then his grandfather shouted ‘Phone!’, because he never answered the phone if he thought there was a chance it could be answered by someone else.

Johnny picked it up.

‘Can I speak to—’ said Yo-less, in his Speaking to Parents voice.

‘It’s me, Yo-less,’ said Johnny.

‘Hey, you know Mrs Tachyon?’

‘Of course I—’

‘Well, my mum was on duty at the hospital last night. She’s got horrible bruises and everything. Mrs Tachyon, I mean, not my mum. Someone really had a go at her, she said. My mum, not Mrs Tachyon. She said we ought to tell the police.’

‘What for?’

‘We might have seen something. Anyway … er … someone might think it was … us …’