‘No offence,’ she went on, ‘but that’s you … Face-Ache … Because you’ve got that face on you. I bet it hurts. And, I don’t mean to be rude, but … you’re very ugly. And we’re not kissing. That’s just the words of the song. And I’m sorry if you don’t like the song, but really you’re just an ugly old sicko, so why should I bother what you think? I expect you can’t understand anything I’m saying. You’re just like the other grown-ups. Dumb. Dumb old Dumbo Face-Ache.’

Scarface turned away.

Ella could see the mother’s body in the middle of the field and realized that what she had thought were white sticks were actually bones. Scarface must have dragged lots of dead bodies there and left them to rot away. She had to admit he did seem to be a good hunter. She could see the crows landing around the body, pecking at it.

And then, in the woods on the far side of the field, she saw something else moving. Moments later it came charging out into the field, then another, then more and more. She could see now that they were dogs. Of all shapes and sizes. There must have been at least thirty of them, too many for Ella to count. They raced to the boneyard, snapping and yelping at each other, and sending the crows swirling up into the sky in a noisy, messy spiral.

The dogs fell on the mother’s body, and Ella and Scarface sat up there in the tree, side by side, their feet dangling over the edge, watching the dogs, and the great black crows darting down to pick up scraps. And Ella couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

The next thing she saw was definitely a bad thing.

Chapter 6

6

There was a grown-up standing in the next field. A live one. It looked like a mother, but it was hard to tell from this far away. It was very still, like a scarecrow, its arms straight out. Ella nudged Scarface and pointed. He squinted at it, then slipped the pack off his back and dug around inside it until he found a pair of binoculars. Ella had stopped being surprised at the way he didn’t behave like other grown-ups. She’d accepted him for what he was. Weird. He put the binoculars to his eyes and adjusted the focus, gently turning the wheel with his knobbly, bent fingers. He made a deep humming sound in his throat, almost like an animal growling. Like a dog.