You know.

Erm, an act of madness brought on by low blood sugar . . .

Ruby and Matilda came bounding back, but suddenly there was a loud growling in the gorse. Ruby said hoarsely, “Maybe it’s a wild otter? Gone mad. Say something to it. Calm it down.”

What do you say to otters?

Do otters go mad?

I said, “Ruby, how can it be a wild otter gone mad? You’ve just made that up.”

Ruby said, “It’s still rustling about, going to rip our throats out, though, isn’t it? Make friends with it.”

I called out shakily, “We come in peace. We mean you no harm.”

Cain’s big black dog emerged with its tongue lolling. Cain calls his black dog “Dog.”

Dog saw Matilda and barked. Matilda shuffled behind Ruby and me. Dog thought she was playing a hiding game. His favorite. He barked and then rushed to one side of us. Matilda quickly toddled round the other side. But then Dog unexpectedly changed direction and he came up behind and started sniffing her bottom.

Ruby shouted into the dark moors, “Cain! I know you’re out there. Stop messing abaht and come and get yer bloody dog. It’s got its nose up Matilda’s bum!”

Oh Dear Mother of Baby Jesus.

Cain.

He was here.

What should I do?

I must be very cool with him.

Which is not going to be easy with my anorak hood up.

But nothing happened. There was no noise except the wind whistling and Dog sniffing.

Ruby shouted again, “Come on, Cain, stop messing abaht.”

But the moors were silent.

Then Dog cocked his ear as if he could hear something we couldn’t and bounded off.

It started to pelt down, and we ran and stumbled down the hill, almost blinded by the rain.

By the time we got back into The Blind Pig, the rain was thunderous, pounding on the roof like it would break through. We got dried and had our supper in the back room. The Iron Pies were still “rehearsing.” Well, shouting and banging.

We went up the two flights of stairs and snuggled into bed in Ruby’s room high up in the attic. Matilda was tucked up at the bottom of the bed and Ruby put a little nightcap on her head. She almost immediately nodded off. Oooooh, she is sweet.

She reminded me of the owlets. Not her big puggy face and snoring, just the general feeling of lovey-doveyness.

I said to Ruby, “Hey, I’m dying to see the owlets. Shall we pop down to the barn tomorrow? Cor, I bet Little Rubes and Little Lullah will be pleased as anything to see us.”

Ruby started plaiting her hair.

“They’re not there. Connie has chucked them out. They’ve flown the nest.”

I looked at her.

“Our little owlets have flown the nest? But . . .”

Ruby said, “Well, when I say ‘flown’ the nest, what I mean is they’re crashing abaht in the woods somewhere. Tha’s nivver seen such rubbish flying in your life. Little Rubes knocked herself out on the barn door the fust time she tried to get out.”