BOOK 4

'If the . . . the low-life who did this,' Paul corrected himself with an air of restrain, 'could get into the shed, he could have fixed other little surprises in there.' He turned and moved back the way he had come. 'I'll go and check.'

'Thanks,' Amy said humbly. 'Er ... I hope it'll be all right.'

'I expect it will be.'

'If it is,' she called after him, 'could you fetch the bread this time?'

He did, five minutes later, with a report that everything else in the shed seemed exactly as it ought to be. Then he went up to shower again, and Amy went out to check the shed for herself. She found the lawn-mower still in the corner where she stowed it for the winter, the spade and fork and trowel and broom still on their hooks, her folding chairs still against the wall,

and the spare plant pots still piled on the work bench, everything as far as she could see just as she had left it except for the little heaps and smears of soot round the doorway. After she had swept them together, picked them