‘Right, Joe,’ I say, taking Dad’s torch out of my pocket. ‘Hold my hand now. It’s dark and we don’t want to get lost.’

I feel his warm hand in mine as we walk tentatively towards the house, the thin sliver of yellow torchlight guiding our way. Beside me, Joe starts humming a tune that after a few moments I recognize as ‘Jingle Bells’, the song that had been playing on a loop at the party.

‘That’s a nice song,’ I say as we reach the door. ‘Did you like the party?’

‘Saw Father Christmas,’ he says as I push my body weight against the door. ‘He gave me present.’

‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly as, on the third push, the door yields. ‘And it was a lovely present. You’ll have to introduce Spider-Man to your lions, I’m sure they – Joe, slow down.’

It is pitch black inside the house, though I can hear Joe’s footsteps up ahead.

‘Joe, wait for me,’ I call, shining the torch along the hallway. ‘We need to light some candles in the living room. Joe? Where are you?’

I point the torch ahead of me and see the outline of the kitchen door frame. Stepping slowly towards it, I cast the light across the room. The black stove looms ahead of me like some kind of crouching beast; the table is scattered with crumbs and orange peel from this morning’s makeshift breakfast.

‘Joe?’ I say, backing away from the kitchen door and going to the living room. ‘Joe, please answer me. Where are you?’

He’s not in the living room, though I shine the torch behind the sofa and both chairs in case he’s hiding behind them. Nothing.

‘Joe, baby,’ I call as I make my way down the narrow passageway towards the bedrooms. ‘Joe?’

And then I see him. He’s standing outside the bedroom with a blanket over his shoulders. He looks at me then lets out an ear-piercing yell.

‘Joe, what are you doing?’ I cry, my ears ringing with the noise.

‘Being a wild thing,’ he says, ‘with terrible roars.’

He’s smiling innocently, waiting for me to come back with the response I always make when we read the story – ‘and gnashed their terrible teeth’ – but I’m so shaken I can barely speak.

‘Joe,’ I say, lifting him into my arms. ‘You … you must never do that again, do you hear me? Never. Mummy was so frightened.’

I pull him into my chest but he resists and jerks his body backwards.

‘You horble,’ he cries, his face twisting with rage. ‘I want Daddy now. Daddy not tell me off. Daddy’s nice.’

His eyes fill with tears.

‘Shh,’ I whisper, stroking his head gently. ‘I didn’t tell you off, Joe, I was just scared, that’s all. I thought you were a monster.’

‘You a monster,’ he yells, pummelling his fists into my chest. ‘That’s what Daddy says. You a horble monster.’

He lifts his hand up and strikes me on the side of my face. The shock almost knocks me off my feet but I steady myself quickly.