‘Go!’ he whispered. ‘Downstairs! TV room!’

The back door slammed downstairs as Lew came in.

‘But it’s not straight!’ Lissa protested. ‘Trent, it’s not…’ ’Never mind!’ Laurie said. ‘Do what Trent says!’

Trent and Laurie looked at each other, wide-eyed. If Lew went into the kitchen to fix himself a bite to tide himself over until supper, all still might be well. If he didn’t, he would meet Lissa and Brian on the stairs. One look at them and he’d know something was going on. The two younger Bradbury children were old enough to close their mouths, but not their faces. Brian and Lissa went fast.

Trent and Laurie came behind, more slowly, listening. There was a moment of almost unbearable suspense when the only sounds were the little kids’ footsteps on the stairs, and then Lew bawled up at them from the kitchen: ‘KEEP IT DOWN, CAN’T YOU? YOUR MOTHER’S TAKING A NAP!’

And if that doesn’t wake her up, Laurie thought, nothing will.

Late that night, as Trent was drowsing off to sleep, Laurie opened the door of his room, came in, and sat down beside him on the bed.

‘You don’t like him, but that’s not all,’ she said.

‘Who-wha?’ Trent asked, peeling a cautious eyelid.

‘Lew,’ she said quietly. ‘You know who I mean, Trent.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, giving up. ‘And you’re right. I don’t like him.’

‘You’re scared of him, too, aren’t you?’

After a long, long moment, Trent said: ‘Yeah. A little.’

‘Just a little?’

‘Maybe a little more than a little,’ Trent said. He winked at her, hoping for a smile, but Laurie only looked at him, and Trent gave up. She wasn’t going to be diverted, at least not tonight. ‘Why? Do you think he might hurt us?’