There hadn’t been any trouble over that, at least. His mum hadn’t come in yet and Grandad was watching a programme about bicycle racing in Germany.

He kept thinking about the Pals. They’d come all the way from France. Yet the dead in the cemetery were so frightened of moving. But they were all the same type of people, really. There had to be a reason for that.

The dead in the cemetery just hung around. Why? The Pals had marched from France, because it was the right thing to do. You didn’t have to stay where you were put.

‘New York, New York.’

‘Why did they name it twice?’

‘Well, they ARE Americans. I suppose they wanted to be sure.’

‘The lights are extremely plentiful. What’s that?’

‘The Statue of Liberty.’

‘Looks a bit like you, Sylvia.’

‘Sauce!’

‘Is everyone keeping a look out for those Ghost-breakers?’

‘I think that was just cinematography, William.’

‘How long to morning?’

‘Hours, yet! Follow me, everyone! Let’s get a better view!’

No one ever did work out why all the elevators in the Empire State Building went up and down all by themselves for almost an hour . . .

October the 31st dawned foggy. Johnny wondered about having a one-day illness in preparation for what he suspected was going to be a busy evening, but decided to go to school instead. They always felt happier if you dropped in sometimes.

He went via the cemetery.

There wasn’t a living soul. He hated it when it was like this. It was like the bits in the film when you were waiting for the aliens to jump out.

Somehow, they were always more dreadful than the bits with the fangs in.

Then he found Mr Grimm. Anyone else walking along the towpath would have just seen the busted set. But Johnny saw the little man in his neat suit, watching the ghost of the television.

‘Ah, boy,’ he said. ‘You have been causing trouble, have you?’ He pointed to the screen.

Johnny gasped. There was Mr Atterbury, very calmly talking to a lady on a sofa. There was also one of the people from United Amalagamated Consolidated Holdings. And he was having some difficulty, was the Consolidated man. He’d come along with some prepared things to say and he was having problems getting his mind round the idea that they weren’t working any more.

Mr Grimm turned up the volume control.

‘—at every stage, fully sensitive to public opinion in this matter, I can assure you, but there is no doubt that we entered into a proper and legal contract with the relevant Authority.’

‘But the Blackbury Volunteers say too much was decided behind closed doors,’ said the lady, who looked as though she was enjoying herself. ‘They say things were never fully discussed and that no one listened to the local people.’

‘Of course, this is not the fault of United Amalagamated Consolidated Holdings,’ said Mr Atterbury, smiling benevolently. ‘They have an enviable record of civic service and co-operation with the public. I think what we have here is a mistake rather than any near-criminal activity, and we in the Volunteers would be more than happy to assist them in any constructive way and, indeed, possibly even compensate them.’