We must have been making a lot of noise because Sam’s grandad appeared at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Lads, lads!’ he said. ‘No need to blow a gasket. It’s only a game.’ He was holding two plates of cake and fruit. ‘Snack time. Come down and take these.’

We went down. The front door was open and the smell of cut grass and summer blew inside.

‘Get out in the fresh air,’ his grandad said.

‘Too hot,’ Sam said, taking his plate.

‘It’s where I was going,’ I said, taking mine.

His grandad laid one hand on my shoulder and the other on Sam’s and shook us both gently in slow motion. ‘Find some shade under a tree,’ he said, ‘and keep away from those silly video games.’ He angled his head in the direction of Sam’s room upstairs.

Sam looked up at him sharply. ‘Away?’

‘Yes. Away. Switch off. For your own good. You’ll thank me for it one day.’

Sam asked, ‘Why?’

‘Why? It’s just like when you lock your rabbits up for the night, Sam. It’s to protect them from foxes, but they don’t know that.’

I smiled. ‘Wish Mum would let me have rabbits.’

His grandad winked at me. ‘They don’t say a lot.’

On the way home, my luck nosedived yet again: Mr Lombard was standing at the bottom of Beggar’s Hill, and the road there is too narrow for any sneakery.

‘I’m watching you,’ he said randomly as I passed him. ‘Three strikes, my lad – three strikes and you’re out!’ He pointed right between my eyes. ‘We don’t mess about round here – we nip things in the bud.’

6.15 p.m.

I’ve decided that people aren’t really any weirder around Whizzy. They’re themselves, just way crosser, and it must be because of all the electricity and pressure in the air when she’s around, like the feeling just before a really heavy thunderstorm breaks. The only problem with that is it means Sam is actually angry with me … not as much as he seemed, but still a bit. I need to try and get Whizzy to appear properly when he’s there.

There’s nothing left of that atmosphere now, because it’s sleeting outside. I’ve put a jumper on. It’s July.

18

Escalation

7.10 p.m.

Dad video-called just now. Mum spoke to him first. That worked out brilliantly, because I found out this: Mr Clemm can’t have said anything to her about me, because I listened secretly, and she didn’t tell Dad.

When it was my turn, I told him about Mr Clemm saving us from being killed by an electrical pylon tentacle, which I never would have told Mum because she’d never let me outside again. Didn’t mention Whizzy. But he only wanted to talk about Lily.

‘Any sign of her making friends yet?’