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at the bottom of the crag.’
    Aunt Deirdre glanced at her sharply. ‘You might be better to stay away from there,’ she said.
    Tess’s skin crawled. ‘Why?’
    ‘She’s scared of the fairies,’ said Brian. ‘Take no notice of her.’
    A sudden flash of white at the window made Tess look up. The white cat was there again, sitting on the outer sill, staring in.
    ‘There it is,’ said Tess. ‘I knew I’d seen a cat.’ She turned to Brian, but he was giving her that look again, like the time in the milking parlour; a worried, mistrustful look.
    ‘Pay no attention to it,’ said Aunt Deirdre. ‘It’s only a stray. Would you like another scone?’ But before Tess could reply, the domestic storm erupted again. Without warning, the door to the hall burst open and Uncle Maurice swept in, dampening the mood instantly and putting everyone on edge. Brian jumped up to get him a mug of tea.
    ‘Four hundred quid,’ said Uncle Maurice, bitterly. ‘Four hundred, flamin’ quid, just to get rid of a few flamin’ rats!’
    ‘My god,’ said Aunt Deirdre, but it was more in the way of a practised response than a genuine expression of surprise.
    ‘Four hundred quid,’ Uncle Maurice said again. He seemed dazed.
    ‘And what do they do for it?’ asked Aunt Deirdre.
    ‘They get rid of the flamin’ rats, don’t they?’
    ‘I know that. But how?’
    ‘How should I know? Poison them, gas them, I don’t know.’
    Tess felt sick. She would have to warn the rats in time.
    ‘When are they coming?’ she asked.
    ‘Whenever I ask them to,’ said her uncle. ‘ If I ask them to. If I can find four hundred quid!’
    ‘We’ll have to find it,’ said Aunt Deirdre. ‘I’m sure they were in the house last night.’
    ‘And there are two of them drowned in the water butt,’ said Brian. ‘There must be millions of them around the place.’
    Uncle Maurice shook his head. ‘We can’t be living with that, sure,’ he said. ‘Four hundred quid or no four hundred quid, they’ll have to go.’
    When Tess had finished her tea, Aunt Deirdre asked her to hang out a load of washing on the line. She was just pegging out the last few things when Orla called her from inside the house.
    Tess ran in.
    ‘Your boyfriend,’ said Orla, handing her the phone.
    Tess scowled at her and shook her head. ‘Hello?’ she said.
    ‘Is that Tess?’
    ‘Kevin! That’s amazing. I was just thinking about you.’
    ‘I bet.’
    ‘Well, it was yesterday, actually, But I was, honestly. Wishing you were here.’
    ‘Well, then. Your prayers are answered. I’m on my way.’
    ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Tess, sarcastically. ‘Sure you are.’
    Kevin laughed. ‘I am. I really am. I’m coming for a holiday. A guy I know has a van and he’s coming that way. I’ve borrowed a bike and a tent off Martin. Do you think that I’d forget your birthday?’
    Tess’s heart warmed towards him. ‘You’re brilliant, you know that?’ she said.
    ‘Yeah. But unfortunately I’m not rich. I’ll only have a few quid left by the time I’ve bought a bit of grub. Any jobs down that way?’
    Tess knew that getting money out of Uncle Maurice was like trying to get blood out of a stone. But, for some reason, the figure of four hundred pounds popped into her mind.
    ‘Not unless you can …’ She stopped, thinking it through.
    ‘Can what?’ asked Kevin.
    ‘Come to think of it,’ said Tess, ‘there just might be. If we play our cards right, that is.’
    She looked up the stairs and at the closed door of the kitchen.
    ‘Now, listen …’ she said.
    The day passed easily for Tess in the knowledge that Kevin was coming, and Uncle Maurice’s moods didn’t seem to dominate her own. She helped to treat the gathered sheep for foot-rot and dose them against worms, and afterwards volunteered to help mend a fallen wall.
    Before long she began to wish that she hadn’t. The stones were awkward and heavy, and Uncle Maurice seemed to assume she had prodigious