Vile Visitors. Diana Wynne Jones

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      I said, “Mine,” without thinking.

      I was picked up and swung about by my hair. It must have hurt me more than Pip, because I’m heavier.

      Still, that put an idea into my sore head. I went and borrowed roller-skates from everyone I knew. I got armfuls. Pip and Tony helped me bring them home in carrier bags. There we laid them out, like you do mouse-poison, in cunning corners. It was an awful nuisance. Kids kept coming to the door saying, “My sister says she lent you my roller-skates, and she’s no right to do that because they’re mine.” But there were quite a few left, even after that.

      The result: Pip fell over once, Tony twice, and me three times. Mum and Dad were immune. They said they’d had years of practice. And Angus Flint never said whether he’d fallen over or not. He simply collected all the skates up and threw them in the dustbin. He did it just before the dustmen called, so they were gone before we realised. And kids still keep coming to the door to ask for their skates. I’ve had to part with most of my nicest things in return.

      Tony got picked up by his hair because of the plastic stew. He wanted revenge because Angus Flint kept breaking his models. And Tony hated the way Angus Flint always took one rabbit nibble at his food and then sounded so surprised that it was nice. Tony got as annoyed over that as I did at the way Angus Flint kept insulting the furniture. Mum was furious too. After the third time Angus Flint did it, she took to saying pleasantly, “Arsenic does taste nice.” At which Angus Flint always gave the same loud jolly laugh. So I think Mum and Tony put their heads together over the stew.

      Tony had collected all the bits of left-over plastic model he could find. You know the things you have left after you’ve made a model. They look like knobby fishbones. Tony had collected them from everywhere he could think of. Because most of them came from the floor or the backs of cupboards, there was a good deal of grit and fluff and Menace’s hair with them too. Mum put the first spoonful of stew on Angus Flint’s plate, and while she was dipping for the second spoonful, Tony dumped a great handful of mixed plastic and fluff on top of it. Mum never turned a hair. She just poured gravy over the lot and passed it to Angus Flint.

      We all watched breathlessly while he took up a forkful and did his nibble. “This—” he began as usual. Then he found what it was. He spat it out. “Who did this?” he said. He knew it was Tony by instinct. He answered his own question by picking Tony up by his hair and carrying him out of the room.

      Mum knocked over her chair and rushed out after them. But by the time we all got to the hall – we got in one another’s way a little – Tony was upstairs running his head under the cold tap. And Angus Flint was – yes, you guessed it! – upside down on the hall carpet.

      “I don’t want any supper, Margaret,” his squashed face said.

      Mum said “Good!” to the maroon socks and stormed back to the dining-room.

      ext morning, there was nothing for breakfast. Angus Flint had got up in the night and eaten all the cornflakes and all the milk, and fried himself all the eggs.

      “Why is there no food?” he demanded.

      “You ate it all,” Mum said.

      Angus Flint did not seem to notice how cold she sounded. He just set to work to eat all the bread and marmalade too. He simply did not see how we all hated him. He really enjoyed staying with us. He kept saying so. Every evening when my parents crawled home to him, he would meet them with a beaming smile. “This is such a friendly household, Margaret,” he said. “You’ve done me a lot of good.”