Bertie had tried to put hah! at the end of his sentences, as Tofu did, but he found that it did not sound quite the same in his mouth; there was none of the insouciance that Tofu managed so easily and with such apparently effortless insolence. It did not do to say ‘Yes, Mummy, hah!’ – the hah lost all its effect, somehow.

Tofu was a member of Bertie’s cub scout pack too, as was his arch-enemy, Olive. And that was difficult. Indeed, Tofu had already spoken to Bertie about that evening’s meeting.

‘There’s going to be trouble, Bertie,’ he said. ‘I can feel it coming.’ Then he added, ‘Hah!’

24. Some Sophisticated Colours

They were marshalled in their sixes – the red six, the violet six, the ochre six, and so on. Not many cub scout packs had an ochre six or even a violet six – at least not many outside Edinburgh; most packs went in for primary colours for their six names, but this was Edinburgh, after all, and Morningside too, and more sophisticated colours were permissible. Bertie was in the red six, along with Tofu, Olive, and Ranald Braveheart Macpherson, a small boy with spindly legs, who stood in awe of Tofu and, to a slightly lesser extent, of Olive.

‘We’re going to have a lot of fun this evening,’ said Rosemary Gold, clapping her hands to get everybody’s attention. ‘And we have two new members. Yes, two!’

She turned to a boy and a girl standing awkwardly beside her. ‘This is Fergus,’ she said, pointing to the boy. ‘And this is Chloë. Fergus will be in the ochre six, and Chloë will be in the reds. Isn’t that nice now?’

Tofu, standing beside Bertie, let out a groan, followed by a mumbled comment.

‘Did you say something, Tofu?’ asked Mrs Gold. ‘Did I hear you say welcome? That’s what I heard, I’m sure.’

Olive raised her hand. ‘He didn’t, Akela,’ she said. ‘He made a noise like this. Then he said: “Not another girl!” That’s what he said.’

Tofu glowered at Olive before turning to face the cub mistress. His face, like his flat denial, was filled with the innocence of the falsely accused. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ he protested. ‘Did I, Bertie?’

Olive looked at Bertie. ‘You tell her, Bertie,’ she whispered. ‘And don’t lie. You know what happens if you lie. Your pants go on fire.’