I strained. Plop splash. Some water came up and hit my bum, and that was when the phone went.

"Shit," I said, and then laughed at myself. I cleaned my arse quickly and pulled my trousers up, pulling the chain, too, and then waddling out into the corridor, zipping up. I ran up the broad stairs to the first-floor landing, where our only phone is. I'm forever on at my father to get more phones put in, but he says we don't get called often enough to warrant extensions. I got to the phone before whoever was calling rang off. My father hadn't appeared.

"Hello," I said. It was a call-box.

"Skraw-aak!" screamed a voice at the other end. I held the receiver away from my ear and looked at it, scowling. Tinny yells continued to come from the earpiece. When they stopped I put my ear back to it.

"Porteneil 53l," I said coldly.

"Frank! Frank! It's me. Me! Hello there! Hello!"

"Is there an echo on this line or are you saying everything twice?" I said. I could recognise Eric's voice.

"Both! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Hello, Eric. Where are you?"

"Here! Where are you?"

"Here."

"If we're both here, why are we bothering with the phone?"

"Tell me where you are before your money runs out."

"But if you're here you must know. Don't you know where you are?" He started to giggle.

I said calmly: "Stop being silly, Eric."

"I'm not being silly. I'm not telling you where I am; you'll only tell Angus and he'll tell the police and they'll take me back to the fucking hospital."

"Don't use four-letter words. You know I don't like them. Of course I won't tell Dad."

"'Fucking' is not a four-letter word. It's… it's a seven-letter word. Isn't that your lucky number?"

"No. Look, will you tell me where you are? I want to know."