His eyes travel over the endless black and white photographs of Felix Flynn. The display says a fair bit about Felix the celebrity. He was clearly talented, a popular act, but it says little about the man behind that persona. Leon peers closer, into the man’s dark, emotionless eyes. Christine said he disappeared years ago, and Leon works out that if he is still alive, he would be in his late seventies, early eighties, perhaps.

In the corridor that leads to the front exit, the lounge door stands open – the mesmerising, creepy John Carpenter theme tune of the Seventies’ Halloween film escaping the room, making him shudder. Leon saw the film a long time ago. Michael Myers, the memorable, chilling killer, had given him no end of sleepless nights as a teenager. He walks over to the door, glances in the room at the forty-inch TV surrounded by empty sofas and chairs, and slams the door closed. He’s freaked out enough right now, without a horror film making things worse.

He pads over to the pink sofa, perches on the edge, waiting, the streak of yellow floating in the wind playing on his mind. Get a grip, Leon.

Fast-paced footsteps carry above his head, and Alice appears at the top of the curving staircase, her Parka draped over her arm, eyes wide, face pale.

‘Hey.’ He rises, as she dashes down the stairs and into his arms. She’s shaking, her heart beating fast against his chest. ‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’

Before she can speak, Mitch appears, and thumps down the staircase two at a time in heavy, battered black boots, while zipping his lime-green waterproof up to his neck. He lifts the hood over his hair, now tied in a stumpy ponytail.

‘What’s up with her?’ he says to Leon, as though Alice is invisible. ‘If she’s got the wobbles, it might be best if she stays behind with the rest of the girlies.’

‘I’m fine.’ Alice pulls away from Leon, and glares at Mitch, who shrugs, the fabric of his jacket squeaking as he lifts his shoulders. ‘In fact, we should go. Now!’

Alice

Alice pulls on her coat, as she leads the way to the main exit and out into the darkness, pushing thoughts of the strange puppet from her mind. She will tell Leon, but now’s not a good time.

Leon flicks on one of the torches, hands one to Alice who does the same. ‘Let’s go to the garden first. That’s where I first saw the … well whatever it was.’ He makes his way to the front of the house. Alice and Mitch follow.

Once there, Leon points his torch towards the fence. ‘That’s where I went over.’

‘Oh, Leon,’ Alice says, taking hold of his arm. ‘You could have … are you sure you’re OK?’