On his way to a hospital appointment with his mother, Ratty had spotted a property with his name written all over it. Perfect. Now he just needed to find out who lived there, where they slept and whether they worked at night. In this agricultural community many places operated round the clock — notably the food processing and vegetable packing industries that employed many of the workers in the area. As the summer drew to a close, harvesters too worked all night in the fields gathering the crop before the weather worsened and rain set in. Thus, you could never tell which householders would be asleep at home.

Now, at midnight, he was back to have a closer look at the place. A sweet choice, probably inhabited by a pensioner or someone who had no need to work. The cottage looked neat and cared for, but what enticed him were the windows. The owners had obviously replaced the original wood-framed sash windows and installed double glazing but kept to the traditional design, so they were easy to get through.

He watched the cottage for a while, noting the position of the windows, the layout of the rooms.

Another lover of fresh air. The windows on the upstairs floor were partially open, as well as a smaller one on a latch downstairs. He would enter through the one above that very conveniently placed conservatory. It even had a tiled roof instead of the usual glass.

The nearest house was two hundred yards away, a blank wall turned towards the cottage. No dog barking, no toys, no drinking bowl in the garden. No warning sign on the gate. He went in, crept around the single garage and peered in through a small window. One car, and at the back of the garage a bike. He saw no crossbar, so it was probably a woman’s.

Having made his decision, he had no need to roam further tonight. He’d be back with his mother before she even noticed his absence. Mind you, she wouldn’t have objected even if she had. They had spoken about it once, never mentioning it again. She had spent her married life confined at home by Ratty’s abusive father and understood all too well his need for escape.

* * *

Ratty drove home in his borrowed car, singing happily to himself, basking in the joy of being back out again, free and alone in his secret shadowy realm.

Across the Fens another man, who never sang, was watching a different property. He knew exactly who lived there and what he wanted. His decision was already made.

He took a breath, opened the bedroom window and slipped inside.

* * *