'No,' said Twyla

     'Ver' persykological.'

     'Susan says don't get afraid, get angry,' said Twyla.

     'Er, thank  you,  Susan,'  said Mrs  Gaiter, now a trembling bouquet of nerves. 'And, er, now, Sir Geoffrey, if you'd all like to come back into the parlour - I mean, the drawing room-'

     The party went  back up the hall. The last thing Susan heard before the door shut was 'Dashed convincin', the way she bent the poker like that-'

     She waited.

     'Have they all gone, Twyla?'

     'Yes, Susan.'

     'Good.' Susan  went back  into the cellar and emerged towing  something large and  hairy  with eight legs.  She managed to haul  it up the steps and down the other passage to  the  back yard, where she kicked it out. It would evaporate before dawn.

     'That's what we do to monsters,' she said.

     Twyla watched carefully.

     'And now it's bed for you, my girl,' said Susan, picking her up.

     'C'n I have the poker in my room for the night?'

     'All right.'

     'It only  kills monsters, doesn't it...?' the child  said  sleepily, as Susan carried her upstairs.

     'That's right,' Susan said. 'All kinds.'

     She put the  girl  to bed  next  to her  brother  and leaned the  poker against the toy cupboard.

     The  poker was made of some cheap metal  with  a brass knob on the end. She would,  Susan reflected, give quite a lot to be able to  use  it  on the children's previous governess.

     'G'night.'

     'Goodnight.'

     She went back to her own small bedroom and got back into  bed, watching the curtains suspiciously.

     It would be nice to think she'd imagined it. It would also be stupid to think that, too.  But she'd been nearly normal for two years now, making her own way in the real world, never remembering the future at all...