Ben glanced back towards the village. Talking to the children had been strictly forbidden and he expected the wasp to come running at any moment.

‘He’s coming,’ the child said with that devilish smile of hers.

‘And who’s that?’ Ben asked, peering over his shoulder.

‘I’m not allowed to talk about him. That’s how he finds you.’

‘Is that so?’ Chloe said, grinning back at her, playing along with the game. ‘And what’s his name?’

The child spun around in a pirouette, enjoying the attention, holding the skirt of her dress as she pranced around on grubby toes.

‘We don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘Nobody knows what he used to be called.’

Ben couldn’t believe his luck. After all those staid interviews, this child was giving him something he could use.

‘Three times you see him,’ she said. ‘The first night he’s far, far away. And then the next night he’s closer. So close that you can see him, and he can see you. And then, on the third night his big ugly face is at your window. The fourth night is your last one, because then uh-oh.’

‘Uh-oh.’ Chloe laughed. ‘What does uh-oh mean?’

‘That’s when the creeper kills you.’

The wasp came dashing towards them, his spindly limbs carrying him like a spider. He barged right through Ben and Chloe and grabbed the child in his arms. His face turned to them. Gone was the frown and the disdain that defined it. The man looked afraid.

‘What did she say to you?’ he shouted.

‘Nothing,’ Ben replied, worried that they were in all kinds of trouble. ‘She came up to us. We were just standing here, minding our own business.’

‘What did you tell them?’ he asked the girl, on his knees, holding her head in his hands.

‘She didn’t tell us anything,’ Chloe said. ‘Relax, she was just dancing for us.’

The man stared at her, searching for some proof of the lie, but Chloe gave nothing away. He took the child up in his arms and started back towards the cottages.

The sky over Tír Mallacht was darkening.

‘I don’t want to see you again,’ he called back to them. ‘You should never have come here.’

6

Ben and Chloe stood side by side, arms kissing in the cold. Nobody so much as looked at them. The night was the villagers’ sole concern.

Families were cocooning indoors, slamming hatches and squeaking bolts. Like any procedure it was fast, efficient, more muscle memory than conscious thought. Everybody knew their role and words were few amongst them, whispered in confidence, like fugitives so long on the run that the chase was all they knew.

‘It’s a bit early for bedtime, isn’t it?’ Ben whispered, secretly fidgeting with a clasp on Chloe’s backpack; nervous fingers always find a way to keep busy.