"Me and two goldfish called Adolf and Stalin. That's right. That's where it all started," said Sir John, getting up and going over to the window. "Go on, jump to it."

The secretary didn't go straightaway. One of his jobs was to keep an eye on Sir John. The old boy was acting a bit odd, people had said. He'd taken to reading very old newspapers and books with words like "Time" and "Physics" in the title, and sometimes he even wrote angry letters to very important scientists. When you're the richest man in the world, people watch you very closely.

"Adolf and Stalin," said Sir John. To the whole world in general. "Of course, these two are only their descendants. It turned out that Adolf was female. Or was it Stalin?"

Outside the window, the gardens stretched all the way to some rolling hills that Sir John's landscape gardener had imported specially.

"Blackbury," said Sir John staring at them. "That's where it all started. The whole thing. There was a boy called Johnny Maxwell. And Mrs Tachyon. And a cat, I think."

He turned.

"Are you still here?"

"Sorry, Sir John, said the secretary, backing out and shutting the door behind him.

"That's where it all started," said Sir John. "And that's where it's all going to end."

Johnny always enjoyed those first few moments in the morning before the day leapt out at him. His head was peacefully full of flowers, clouds, kittens

His hand still hurt.

Horrible bits of last night rushed out from hiding and bounced and gibbered in front of him.

There was a shopping trolley full of unspeakable bags in the garage. There was also a spray of milk across the wall and ceiling where Guilty had showed what he thought of people who tried to give him an unprovoked meal. Johnny had had to use the biggest Elastoplast in the medicine tin afterwards.

He got up, dressed, and went downstairs. His mother wouldn't be up yet and his grandad was definitely in the front room watching Saturday morning TV.