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the Demento place,” Will remarked.
    Ronnie snatched the binoculars off him and stared through them. There was a delivery van parked in the driveway . Jasmine’s brother Mike was delivering boxes of stuff.
    â€œJust Mike delivering take-away,” she reported.
    Katie took the binoculars. “He’s making several trips. Must be taking in a lot of stuff.”
    â€œJust for the three of them,” Ronnie said. “That’s odd.”
    â€œMaybe they buy in bulk and store it,” Will said.
    â€œMike said he is always delivering large piles of take-away to that place,” Katie said.
    â€œMaybe they are having a party,” Ronnie said.
    â€œDrake won’t be eighteen for another week,” Katie said. Ronnie looked at her. Katie flushed. “I asked him when it was, because I thought he might have a pool party to celebrate.”
    â€œExcept the pool is still mucky,” Ronnie said.
    â€œMaybe his Dad is having a party?” Will suggested. “Olds often do have parties and entertain.”
    â€œThey don’t entertain,” Katie said. “Never any spare cars or people, and the place is never lit up.”
    â€œAre you staying here with Ronnie?” Will asked.
    â€œGuess so,” Katie said.
    â€œPositive?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œ So I can head off?” Will asked.
    â€œI’ll ring your mobile when I need to go home that great and dangerous distance,” Katie said.
    â€œYou know what Mum said,” Will warned, as he slithered over the platform and down the ladder. “Not even out the front door without company.”
    â€œThe entire district is terrori z ed,” Ronnie said sadly. “We may as well all be in prison, the way the olds are carrying on.”
    â€œIt is so nice and peaceful up here,” Katie said. “What say we have an instant holiday and bring up our MP3 players, our homework, some cushions and books and just stay put?”
    Mrs. Campion looked relieved when they said they intended to spend the day in the back yard in the tree house. “You can have a picnic up there. I’ll get out the basket and pack it with picnic gear and fill the thermos flask.”
    They collected rugs and cushions, their books and the well-stocked picnic basket. Ronnie scrambled up and Katie tied their stuff into bundles so that Ronnie could haul it up to the tree house. Then they both settled for the afternoon.
    It was a clear, cold but sunny day. The wind rustled through the leaves and the tree house seemed detached and peaceful from the gloom and desperate unhappiness spreading across the district below.
    The afternoon wore on. They finished their homework and lay on their cushions chatting. Ronnie was watching the Demento place through the binoculars.
    â€œFunny how there is never anyone around,” she mused.
    â€œWhat if they spend all their time down in the cellars,” Katie suggested.
    â€œWonder where the other entrance to the cellars is ?” Ronnie said.
    â€œProbably from under the back steps,” Katie said.
    â€œWhat if it’s further down the back yard?”
    â€œWhy would the staff have to go into the backyard to get into the cellars?” Ronnie argued.
    â€œWhat was Mr. Demento doing with his spade in the backyard?” Katie demanded. “What if the reason he didn’t see Jasmine in the backyard was because he was under the house?”
    â€œSo what would he be digging in the cellar?” Ronnie said.
    Katie looked at Ronnie. Her face went an odd shade of grey. “What about bodies ? ”
    â€œRot,” Ronnie said very fast. “Absolute rot!” The sun was setting and the light fading and somehow it was spooky rather than pleasant in the tree house. “Time to pack up and take everything down again.”
    They had just dropped the cushions and blankets over the side and lowered their homework when they heard a penetrating and familiar