I put my hand out. A thick cobweb flaps into my face. On the floor there’s a paper carrier bag with handles. It’s going to have to do. There’s a box in it or something, but I don’t wait to look – I just want to get out of here. I squash the whole thing down inside my hoodie and zip it up to my throat.

I shut the shed door behind me and I’m ready to run for it when the light in the kitchen window comes on. I press myself against the side of the shed, squeezing myself into a shadowy corner of the wall as I hear the back door open.

From inside comes a woman’s voice.

‘Go on out, you smelly old thing.’

The biggest dog I’ve ever seen shuffles out and starts sniffing around. The kitchen light goes off and I hear an internal door in the house shut as whoever let the dog out goes back inside.

The massive beast has got coarse black-and-ginger hair in tight curls. It doesn’t notice me. It sniffs around on the ground and then squats to do a poo. It’s in the middle of its business when it turns its head towards me.

If fear has a smell, then I must stink.

Slowly, the old dog finishes, rises off its haunches and ambles towards me, leaving a small mountain of steaming poo behind. I’m wondering if it is one of those ‘friendly to everyone’ dogs like Tony and Lynn’s collie over the road, and I’m getting ready to pet it when it pulls back its top lip and emits a growl that makes me go cold.

R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!

Its head dips, as if it’s going to leap at me. It’s between me and the door leading to the back lane.

‘Kez! Kez!’ I’m sort of shout-whispering, but she doesn’t hear me.

When I hear the kitchen door open again, and the light comes on, I have no choice but to run, in a kind of backwards arc round the dog. In my panic, my foot squishes right into the mound of poo. I slide but remain upright and make it to the back door past the dog who has started a loud barking, but is probably too old and slow to chase me. Turns out I’m wrong about that.

‘What is it, Dennis?’ says a woman from the house. ‘What’s up?’