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backwards.'

'A pattern,' said Shibboleth.

'On the paving stones,' said Kelly. 'He danced out a pattern from one stone to another. No doubt without stepping on the cracks. It's hopscotch. The oldest game in the world.'

'I thought that was prostitution.'

'That's the oldest profession. But I'm sure that whores played hopscotch too.'

'They'll play anything you want, if you pay them enough. I met this girl once who…'

'This is neither the time nor the place,' said Kelly.

'That's what she said at first, but money talks.'

'I will hit you,' said Kelly. 'I have very little patience left.'

'So what do we do?' Shibboleth asked. 'Follow the high priest again tomorrow and try to dance on the same stones that he does? We could sprinkle talcum powder over them earlier in the evening. I saw that done in an old movie. What are you doing?'

'Just watch me through the goggles,' said Kelly. 'There's an old hand-held computer game called simon. It flashed lights on different squares and you had to copy what it did. I shall do as the Rev Jim did, you do what I do and let's hope for the best.'

'All right,' said Shibboleth. 'But I'm no great dancer.'

'Nor conversationalist,' said Kelly. 'But we can't all be good at everything, can we? Are you ready?'

'Ready,' said Shibboleth.

'Then here I go,' and Kelly bounced and bobbed away. She took the odd little sidesteps, then the dancings forward, then the steps backwards and then the steps forward again.

And then she vanished.

'Brilliant,' said Shibboleth. 'You did it.'

'No I didn't,' called a voice in the darkness. 'I just tripped and fell on my face.’

‘Anything hurt?’

‘Only my pride. I'm coming back to have another go-'

And so Kelly had another go.

And another.

And another.

And not to be beaten, she had another go too.

And another.

'This really isn't working, is it?' Shibboleth asked.

'There'd be a knack to it.'

'Not one you've mastered quite yet, by the look of it.'

'Perhaps you'd prefer to have a go yourself.'

Shibboleth shrugged in the uncertain light. 'I'd probably only fare as well as you,' he said. 'Although if I was going to do it, I'd probably do it exactly the same way the high priest did. By taking three steps to the right instead of the two you keep taking.'

Kelly returned to Shibboleth and punched him hard in the face.

'Oh, ouch, damn,' wailed Shibboleth. 'There was no need for that.'

'There was every need for that. If this is the way to get into the chapel, the service will be over before we even arrive. Do the dance. Go on, or I'll hit you again.'

'I think you've broken my nose.'

'I haven't. I could have done, but I didn't.'

'It really hurts,' moaned Shibboleth.

'Do the silly dance.'

And Shibboleth lined himself up, said, 'OK,' and did the silly dance.

And then he vanished. Just like that.

'Have you fallen over?' Kelly asked.

But there was no reply.

'Oh,' said Kelly. 'You did it. You actually did it.'

She stood alone there in the uncertain light, looking down at the pavement slabs through her infra-red goggles. They shone faintly, offering up the heat of the day that they had stored within their ancient granite pores. A giant chessboard? A game board? An entrance? To what?

To the chapel of It.

Kelly drew draughts of healthless Mute Corp Keynes night air up her nostrils. This was to be it. Possibly a confrontation with It. Possibly anything. And this Shibboleth had gone before her. Was he on the level? Or was he leading her to her doom? Should she go on, or turn away and run? That was an option. Not much of one, but it was an option.

'I have to see this through,' Kelly told herself. 'Innocent people have been hurt, killed. I don't know what I can do about it. But I have to do something.'

She glanced all around and about. She was all alone.

If she was going to do it.

Then now was the time.

To do it.

To do

It.

Kelly took another breath and blew it out into the night. And then she too did the silly dance.

From paving stone to paving stone and never stepping on the cracks.

And she, like Shibboleth, vanished.

The moon appeared from behind industrial clouds-. It shone down upon the great paved space, turning the paving stones the colour of a silver without price.

And out of nowhere, or so at least it seemed, a fat man appeared. He was the fat man who had leaned upon the lamppost opposite the Swan and studied Kelly through his macrovision spectacles.

The fat man crossed the wide open space. And then the fat man stopped. And then he too danced forward. Taking sideways steps, and three instead of two, and moving forwards and backwards.

And presently and under the eye of the moon, the fat man vanished too.

19

It was no longer night.

And it was no longer Mute Corp Keynes.

A big smiley sun beamed down from the heavens of blue. Sparrows chorused from the branches of ancient riverside oaks. Flowers prettified their -well-tended beds in the memorial park and a snoozing tomcat snored upon the window sill of the Flying Swan. The milk float jingle-jangled on its wibbly wobbly way. Another glorious day had dawned upon Brentford.

Derek awoke to find that the world had gone upside down.

He blinked and focused and stared upon the shelves of video games. Why were they all upside down, he wondered? And why was the ceiling now the floor?

Derek coughed. He didn't feel at all too well. Why would that be, then? Ah, oh dear and yes, that would be the drink and that -would be -why.