Mr. Barraclough’s distinctive voice shouted, “That’s what I was doing.”

Bob said, “No, dude, you were doing der der DER der DER der.”

They tried it again, this time with more guitars, and then Mr. Barraclough shouted, “Lads, lads, leave it.” The banging and twanging came to a halt.

There was a little silence and I think a sigh and then Mr. Barraclough said slowly, “Bob, Bob, Bob, me old son, can I just stop you there and ask you a little question?”

Bob said, “Cool, I’m always here to help.”

Mr. Barraclough went on. “Whose band is this, Bob love?”

Bob paused.

“Well, I guess it’s a . . . collective based on the talents of the whole of . . .”

Mr. Barraclough said, “Ah, I see, this is where you’ve got your sen mixed up. It’s not a ‘collective,’ old love, it’s MY band. Does tha see? Does tha see what I mean there, Bob?”

Bob said, “Yeah.”

Mr. Barraclough said, “Reight, that’s good, me old flower. So, from now on, you follow me. I will set the rhythm. . . . Now then, the next song is the well-known Beatles song ‘All You Need Is Pies.’ Hit it, lads!!!”

And the banging and twanging and shouting began again with Mr. Barraclough singing loudly, “All you need is pies, LA LA LA LA, All you need is pies pies, pies is all you need!!”

Ruby came in behind me with Matilda and shouted above the racket. “Ay up, I’m just going to take Matilda for her evening poo. I’ve finished with that gormless Joey—he crashed in’t barn when he were riding his bike backwards.”

She went off into the kitchen to get snacks and I was just nuzzling Matilda. Although keeping away from her back end because of the imminent poo business. She was wagging her tail, well, stump really, when a pair of trousers appeared before my eyes.

Not just any trousers, not magic trousers floating around in the air.

When I looked up. There he was.

Alex the Good.

He smiled at me. Phwoar. He was so good-looking, like a film star.

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

What was he doing here? This wasn’t the weekend after next.

He shouted above The Iron Pies, “Tallulah!!!” And he hugged me.

He smelled gorgeous, like a vanilla ice cream with everything else in it you like. Chocolate brownies, touch of raspberry sauce, and, er . . . chips.

No, not chips, but something that tasted like chips but didn’t smell like them but . . .

He said, “Are you pleased to see me, lovely Lullah? Look at you, look at how you’ve grown.”

My face felt beetroot. “My brother says I’m growing upwards to get away from my knees. But . . .”

Ruby came tumbling back with her arms full of crisps. She said to Alex, “Has she said anything weird yet?”

Alex smiled at me and said, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Come away from this racket and tell me what’s been happening, Tallulah.”