‘You—’ he tried to say, ‘you— you— you want fries with that?’

It was the funniest thing Wobbler had ever heard. Right now it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said anywhere. He laughed until the tears ran down his face and mingled with the mustard pickle.

From somewhere in the shadows by the wall a small voice said, ‘’Ere, did anyone get any shrapnel?’

Bigmac started to laugh on top of the laugh he was already laughing, which caused a sound like a boiler trying not to burst.

‘What, what, what’s shrapnel anyway?’ he managed to say.

‘It’s … it’s … it’s bits of bomb!’

‘You want fries with that?’ said Bigmac, and almost collapsed with laughing.

The siren sang out again. But this time it wasn’t the rising and falling wail but one long tone, which eventually died away.

‘They’re coming back!’ said Wobbler. The laughter drained out of him as though a trapdoor had been opened.

‘Nah, that’s the All Clear,’ said the voice by the wall. ‘Don’t you know nuffin’?’

Wobbler’s grandfather stood up and looked down the length of what had once been Paradise Street.

‘Cor!’ he said, obviously impressed.

There wasn’t a whole house left standing. Roofs had gone, windows had blown out. Half of the buildings had simply vanished into rubble, which spilled across the street.

Bells rang in the distance. Two fire engines skidded to a halt right outside the church. An ambulance pulled up behind them.

‘You want—’ Bigmac began.

‘Shut up, will you?’ said Wobbler.

There were fires everywhere. Big fires, little fires. The pickle factory was well alight and smelled like the biggest fish and chip shop in the world.

People were running from every direction. Some of them were pulling at the rubble. There was a lot of shouting.

‘I suppose everyone … would’ve got out, right?’ said Wobbler. ‘They would have got out, wouldn’t they?’

The siren’s wail slowed to a growl and then a clicking noise, and then stopped.

Johnny felt as though his feet weren’t exactly on the ground. If he were any lighter he’d float away.

‘They must have got out. They had nearly a whole minute,’ he said.

The sergeant had already headed toward Paradise Street. The three of them had been left with Tom and the captain, who was watching Johnny thoughtfully.

Things pattered onto the roof of the police station and bounced down into the street. Yo-less picked one up.

‘Pickled onions?’ he said.

They could see the flames over the rooftops.

‘So …’ said the captain. ‘You were right. A bit of an adventure, yes? And this is where I say “Well done, chums”, isn’t it …’

He walked to the yard door and shut it. Then he turned.

‘I can’t let you go,’ he said. ‘You must know that. You were with that other boy, weren’t you. The one with the strange devices.’

There seemed no point in denying it.

‘Yes,’ said Johnny.

‘I think you might know a lot of things. Things that we need. And we certainly need them. Perhaps you know that?’ He sighed. ‘I don’t like this. You may have saved some lives tonight. But it’s possible that you could save a lot more. Do you understand?’