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is an ancient supernatural being,” she panted unwisely to Grandma.
    â€œOh, just look at you!” Grandma exclaimed. “How did you get so untidy?”
    â€œIn the bushes. Flute is just what I call him because I don’t know his real name,” Hayley babbled. “He has a green scarf and hair like Martya’s.”
    Grandma stiffened. “Will you stop romancing this instant, Hayley! Uncle Jolyon’s here. He wants to see you for tea in the parlour. If it wasn’t for that, I’d send you to bed without supper for telling stories. Go and comb your hair and put on a clean dress this moment. I want you back downstairs and looking respectable in ten minutes! So hurry!”
    Hayley sobered up. She saw she had been stupid to mention Flute to Grandma. Flute was – if ever anyone was – a person who overflowed Grandma’s boundaries. Flute didn’t do walls. And Grandma did walls all the time, Hayley thought as she scurried away down the passage to the stairs. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard Grandpa and Uncle Jolyon coming out of the map room, arguing. It was funny,she thought, peeping over the banisters, the way unusual things always seemed to happen in clusters. Uncle Jolyon only visited here about once a year and when he did, Grandpa was always very, very polite to him. But now Grandpa was shouting at him.
    â€œYou just watch yourself!” Grandpa bellowed. “Any more of this control-freak nonsense and I shall walk away! Then where will you be?”
    As Hayley scudded on upwards, Uncle Jolyon was making peace-keeping sort of noises. She took another peep at them on the next turn of the stairs. They were both big, stout men, but where Grandpa was grey, Uncle Jolyon had a fine head of curly white hair and a white beard and moustache to go with it. He backed away as Grandpa positively roared, “ Oh yes, I can do it ! I did it before and you didn’t like it one bit, did you?”
    â€œHayley!” Grandma called. “Are you changed yet?”
    Hayley called out, “Nearly, Grandma!” and pelted on up to her room. There she flung off her grubby dress, flung on a new one and managed to make her hair lie flat by pasting it down with the water she scrubbed her muddy knees in. Then she wentdemurely down to the parlour, where Grandma was pouring tea and Grandpa and Uncle Jolyon were drinking it, all smiles, as if neither of them had just been quarrelling in the hall.
    Nobody took much notice of Hayley. She sat on an embroidered chair nibbling at a hard rock cake – which made her feel like a rather small squirrel – and listened to the three adults talk about world affairs, and science, and the stock market, and some prehistoric carvings someone had found in a cave near Nottingham. If Uncle Jolyon had specially wanted to see Hayley, he showed few signs of it. He only looked at her once. Hayley was struck then at how dishonest the crinkles round his eyes made him look. She thought it must be because she had just seen Flute. Flute’s green eyes looked at you direct and straight, without any disguising of his feelings. Uncle Jolyon’s eyes calculated and concealed things. Hayley found she distrusted him very much.
    When the tea was drunk, Uncle Jolyon leaned over, grunting a little, and pinched Hayley’s chin. “You be a good girl now,” he said to her, “and do what your grandparents say.”
    The way he smiled, full of false kindness and hidden meanings, truly grated on Hayley. And the pinch hurt. “Why are you so dishonest?” she said.
    Grandma went stiff as a post. Grandpa seemed to curl up a little, as if he expected someone to hit him. Uncle Jolyon, however, leant his head back and laughed heartily.
    â€œBecause I have to be,” he said. “Nobody expects a businessman to be honest , child.” And he shouted with laughter again.
    Uncle Jolyon went away after that – with Grandpa seeing