‘What are we going to do with him?’ he said.

‘Oh!’ Alex cried theatrically, turning round and dashing his forehead with his hand. ‘I forgot the wood!’

‘Wood?’ said Dan.

‘We need to chop some wood. Don’t look like that! We need a fire, the guests like it.’

He lurched towards them, picked up the whisky bottle and the oil lamp and went off up the garden, leaving them in darkness.

‘Fuck,’ said Dan. ‘He’s off again.’

They tracked his pale shirt in the gloom.

‘Loads of snakes at this end!’ they heard him shout. ‘Fuckers!’

His blurry shape hovered. They heard him trip. A bright half-moon, small and silver, revealed monochrome grass, and grey leaves. Alex, distant in the earthly pool of lamplight, stumbled towards the wood store.

‘Hey!’ called Dan. ‘We don’t need logs!’

Alex set down the lantern. They saw his white arms, and the glint of metal; he was holding an axe.

‘Oh, fucking hell,’ said Dan.

‘Come on,’ said Bea, and got up.

Alex swung the axe experimentally as they approached, holding the whisky bottle in his other hand.

‘There’s already a load of logs,’ said Dan diplomatically. ‘You’ve got a stack, and it’s almost summer.’

Alex changed his grip on the axe handle like a ninja. ‘But we can chop them! It’s fun.’

‘No, mate,’ said Dan, ‘it’s stupid.’

‘Fun,’ said Alex. ‘Look. See?’ He stumbled on the way to the log pile. ‘This one – could be smaller.’ He put the bottle down near his legs and hauled one from the stack.

On the terrace the music stopped mid-song and left a sudden quiet. The log toppled. Alex set it on its end again and raised the axe with both hands.

‘Al –’ said Bea. ‘Dan?’

Dan shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue with a drunk man swinging an axe.

‘Good,’ said Alex, and brought the axe down fast.

The blade struck the ground with a slice and a clink.

‘SHIT, my arm. My arm. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ He began to laugh, yapping and gasping. ‘You know in cartoons?’ he laughed. ‘With the juddering – it hit a stone –’

‘Alex –’ said Dan, ‘mate. Seriously –’

‘Just let me do this one,’ said Alex. ‘Please? Please-please-please – hold the lantern.’

‘No,’ said Dan.

‘OK, OK, OK –’ said Alex, readying himself. He raised the axe again, high above his head, and put his foot on the top of the log. It went in and out of the shadow of his body as he tried to get a fix on it.

And then all at once, he gave in and dropped the axe, heavy and harmless on the ground. He stood weaving, and staring.

‘Take some in,’ he started to pull logs from the stack, making small murmuring sounds.

‘At least it will distract him,’ said Bea, ‘and we can get him back.’

They went to help. Loose moss and woodlice dropped from the logs which were dry on top but damp in places.