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within touching distance. A chainsaw hung from his waist and a cigarette was wedged behind his ear. Ellis felt Mafi’s breathing on his neck as they watched. After lunch, a young apprentice woodsman turned up on foot and was bullied by the two men for being late. They barked orders at him all afternoon. Later, the apprentice was caught sharing his cigarettes and hip flask with Chrissie. The bearded man dragged him away and struck him.
    After nightfall, from his pillow, Ellis heard shouting and doors slamming. Chrissie ran past Ellis’s bedroom to her own and his dad thundered after her. Later, Ellis found Chrissie lying under her blanket, still dressed. She had been crying and now she was staring at nothing and twisting the ends of her long hair round her fingers.
    “What happened?” Ellis whispered.
    She pulled him close. “Dad caught me crawling back through the hedge,” she whispered.
    “Where had you been?”
    “Drinking beer in the skittle alley with that lad.”
    “The man with the drink in his pocket?”
    “It’s called a hip flask.”
    She held Ellis’s face in her hands. Her eyes twinkled.
    “Ellis …”
    “What?”
    “I saw a man and a woman doing it, in the toilets. I saw them actually doing it.”
    Ellis stared at her wide-eyed and she saw the need for clarification. “Having sex, Ellis. They made these ridiculous noises. Don’t mention it to Dad or Mafi or anyone.”
    Ellis nodded his head earnestly. He didn’t know what she was talking about. But, feeling that he should respond to what she clearly considered momentous news, he said with equal seriousness: “Another interesting thing is that the man with the chainsaw never smokes the cigarette behind his ear. It just stays there all day.”
     
     
    The Formula 1 racetrack in the hallway was renowned on the F1 circuit for its challenging combination of breakneck quarry tiling and slow rug. Because the ceiling beams were lushly decorated with berried holly from Dibden Lane, the pre-Christmas Grand Prix was coming from the jungle, somewhere in South America – Ellis’s commentary didn’t specify where. Or it was, until the appearance of a house spider straddling the chicane caused a cancellation. The spider was huge and made Ellis’s stomach churn and his feet tingle, as if he were standing on a cliff edge.
    “Right!” he hissed. “That’s it! I want a meeting with the most highest-up of spiders. It’s not fair!”
    There was no reply and the sound of his own voice embarrassed him. He wondered if Ivy had heard him. She was the only other person in the cottage. Ivy, who was unfeasibly old in Ellis’s opinion, lived on the lane and babysat for Denny O’Rourke on the rare occasions when Mafi couldn’t do it. She was reading the local paper in the kitchen. Ellis had shut her in there so that he could commentate on his F1 race without feeling self-conscious. Ivy did not remove spiders. She had made that clear from the start.
    Ellis grabbed his toy cars and made a run for the kitchen, leaping over the spider and slamming the door behind him.
    “Impersonating a stampede, Ellis?” Ivy muttered, without looking up.
    “When are Dad and Mafi getting back?” Ellis asked.
    “Don’t know,” she murmured.
    Ellis walked on the spot to relieve himself of the last shivers of repulsion.
    “Do you need to go to the toilet, Ellis?”
    “No, thanks. Do you?”
    “Don’t be cheeky.” She put down the paper and lit a cigarette.
    “Don’t suppose you want to come outside and play in the garden?”
    She shook her head.
    “Are they my dad’s cigarettes?”
    “No, they’re mine, thank you for checking.”
    “Wasn’t checking. He wouldn’t mind.” Ellis put his boots on. “You’re not like a real babysitter.”
    “Aren’t I? How’s that?”
    “Not out. Well, you don’t seem to like being with children very much and you’re not very chatty and you don’t like playing.”
    “If I wasn’t here they wouldn’t be out buying you