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moaning loudly enough to cover her as she scuttled forwards.
    â€˜This’ll be the fourth crate this week, and they ain’t getting any lighter. I’ll do myself an injury if I’m not careful.’
    Holly dived behind a nearby bush and found a place where she could peel back a branch and watchas well as listen to the two men. She could see the van parked alongside the river, its back doors open. The ground sloped down to where the high-tide river lapped at the muddy bank. A raft bobbed on the river, connected to the shore by a long rope, the other end of which was tied to a wooden post.
    â€˜Quit your moaning and haul it in,’ said the man called Arthur, pointing at the raft.
    The fat man grabbed the rope and pulled it towards the shore.
    â€˜I mean, it’s not a normal job, is it? I been doin’ this sort of caper for I don’t know how long and I ain’t never had a job like this before.’ He wound the rope around the post as the raft got nearer.
    â€˜My advice to you would be to stop worrying about the whys and focus on the remunerative benefits of the assignment,’ said Arthur.
    â€˜The what?’
    â€˜The money, Reg. The money.’
    â€˜Oh, well. The money’s good, I’ll give you that.’
    â€˜Good? For the sort of money we’re getting for this job Mr G could ask me to paint myself with black-and-white stripes, dowse myself in tomato ketchup and jump into a cage full of peckish lions. And I would happily oblige, no questions asked.’
    â€˜Only you’d probably get me to do it,’ moaned Reg.
    â€˜That is the unique and peculiar nature of our partnership, yes, but you have to remember, without me Mr G wouldn’t entrust us with such an important task.’
    The raft was by the riverbank now.
    â€˜He says it’s important. You say it’s important. But what’s it important for? I’d rather be doing a good honest bank job or breaking and entering or just breaking. Because at least with those things you understand what you’re doing it for.’
    â€˜If understanding is so essential to you I am astonished you do anything at all,’ replied Arthur, with a snide smirk.
    Reg secured the rope round the wooden post, walked over to the van and jumped in the back. The vehicle shuddered under the strain of the man’s bulk.
    â€˜Mr G is a very brilliant man,’ said Arthur. ‘Whatever his reasons are I guarantee they are very brilliant.’
    Reg stumbled out of the van, clutching the large crate, his short chubby arms covering the words HANDLE WITH CARE . He stepped on to the muddy ground and instantly lost his footing, staggeringforward and dropping the crate, which landed in front of him and slid down towards the water’s edge, dragging the fat man with it. There was a big splash and for a moment Holly thought Reg had fallen in the water. In fact, he had somehow landed with the crate and the top half of his body on the raft, but with his feet still on the edge of the riverbank. His large belly wobbled dangerously over the water between land and raft.
    â€˜Oh, bother,’ he said. ‘Can you get the rope and pull me back in, please?’
    â€˜Sorry, Reg. No can do. You see, I have a rare but pathological fear of rope. More of a dread than a fear, really. A mortal dread is what I have of rope and all rope matter.’
    â€˜I didn’t know that,’ said Reg, trying not to let the up and down movement of the crate drag him into the river.
    â€˜Oh yes. I caught it in India, while watching an old Indian rope trick known as “Biriani Poppadum Masala”, which translates as “Rope trick that is both Indian and old”. I’ve never been able to so much as touch a rope since. It ruined my dream of becoming a sailor. I’m all right with string funnily enough.’
    While Arthur was saying this, Reg had managed tobend his legs, arch his back, lean backwards, and