It was, indeed, it.

I was a bit frustrated, all in all. The adrenaline was pumping, but there was no way to get rid.

I stepped out into the churchyard for some fresh air, but it was clouding over and getting a bit nippy, and I hadn’t brought a jacket. Or rather I had, but it was back in the car. I’d only gone for a quick nosy at the park, hadn’t I?

I scanned the horizon, searching for hellish inspiration. Two-thirds of the view from up here was stunning. The other third was taken up by Raughnen. Streetlights and factory smoke and the stench of weed. The roar of trucks and the yowls of chavs. I started to walk back down the path, in that direction. It was like going home.

I wasn’t sure if I’d got to the seal in time. Maybe they’d spirited it away after all. I should have searched the sods’ pockets - maybe there was a Polo or summat that I’d missed. Or even a shiny golden key.

But I was halfway down the hill, and I was knackered.

I also felt invincible. It was always like that after a brawl, not that you could use that word to describe the sorry state of what I’d done back up there. Wasn’t even a scrap. What it was was a bloody waste of time. All of it.

But I felt invincible all the same. I remembered I had my earphones tucked away in my shirt pocket and I fished them out to put a bit of Queen on. Prince of the Universe indeed. That was me, alright.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Somewhere just past the posh bit of town, two scrotes in pointy hats with knock-off ticks scrawled all over them leapt out of a side-street in front of me. One brought out a wand. The other brought out a shiv. I didn’t know much about magicians, I reflected, but I bet you only saw ones like that here. I carried on walking.

They were wittering through A Kind of Magic. The really unmagical one plucked at my ear with the tip of his knife. “What?” I yelled, lumbering to a halt, belly to trackies with my foe.

“I said, we know what yer done,” the one with the wand whined.

“Upset all the balances,” said Shiv Boy, picking at a pimple on his nose. “And we’re gonna ‘ave yer fer it. The Goblet o’ neverending cider’s ours!”

I looked up at the clouds. “Looks like it’s gonna rain, lads. Get yer scrawny little arses out of here.”

They were right down by the bingo hall, whimpering for mercy, when the first drops fell. All rain’s acid rain in England. Or so we think. Best not to have baths or showers either.

That was when I realised I was getting wet too, and that I should be getting inside. But where? I did a full circle on the deserted pavement, cupping my hands protectively around my precious phone. Wonders of technology, eh? If only I’d had a little credit things might have been a bit easier that day.

I spotted a couple of pubs, and that made me think of Tim. I thought about getting over to the museum to see if he was still there, or, if he’d got out, if he’d left me any clues. But the Glordites there would be looking for me. And this time, they might have hellbeasts.

I looked back at the pubs, and it occurred to me with a sudden pang of dismay that we’d never paused to agree where to meet. But he was a demon, right? Any pub would do.

I chose the Slug and Lettuce even though it was further away because the other one turned out to be Burnside Social Club, and only the lowliest of filth on the bottom of the dregs of society’s shoes would venture into a club. I am a gentleman.

It wasn’t the Hunter’s Inn again. Oh no. This time they were all staring at me just because I was a stranger, because they’d never seen me down the factory before. I nodded a challenge at one and he lowered his eyes. I heard a mutter at a table behind me. “You starting me, mate?” I said. There was no answer. They went back to their drinks.

This was my sort of place, all right. Decent lads. We’d get on swimmingly in here.

I didn’t even look around. I just plonked down in a booth and waited.

It was only a moment before someone approached. Someone in a green dress I knew all too well. It wasn’t just a moment of recognition; she practically burned the corner of my eye.

“No!” I groaned. “It can’t be!”

“Oh, it can,” said the ex-wife.