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It was Victor the crocodile who did for him.

She had been nosing around constantly, ever since Darren threw the lighted match. So many legs had appeared, creating so much disturbance. She’d seen Anjoli and backed off – Anjoli
had kicked her too many times already, trying to motivate her. She’d been very tempted by Gary Cuthbertson and his meaty calves, but the whining engine had unnerved her. The old man, however,
was kicking gently and the engines had stopped. It was peaceful in the gloom and the legs had a slow-motion attractiveness. He was likely to be a fatty dish, but there was plenty of him: that, to a
crocodile with babies to feed, was important. She came from the depths, and waited till the man’s legs were wide apart. Then she slammed upwards into him, grasping a thigh in powerful
jaws.

Crocodiles do not kill their victims by tearing them to pieces. The tearing comes later. They kill by rolling their prey deep underwater; they use their jaws to grip and hold – they need
only hold for a minute and the victim will drown. The lungs fill and the body sinks. It’s an easy job, then, to drag the meat deeper still, and nose it into a suitable shelf of rock, where it
will lie until it’s needed.

Father O’Hanrahan drowned quickly and not a mouthful went to waste.

I

Time passed and the end of term approached.

Professor Worthington supervised the refilling of the lake with Brother Rees. Only half had been drained, and as there was a heavy rainfall for the next five days, it was soon full. The swollen
River Strop had done little damage, so what could have been a disaster for the town was averted.

Meanwhile, the headmaster interviewed each child in his study.

He was determined to build up a narrative so as to understand the extraordinary events, and might have done so had he not been constantly interrupted by Lady Vyner. She haunted his office
demanding not just her rent, but interest and compensation. After one particularly difficult meeting, Captain Routon and Flavio found the headmaster with his head in his hands. On the rafters
above, the parrots were pretending to be both ringing telephones and shouting old women, and the poor man was nearly in tears.

‘I can’t even pay the butcher,’ he cried. ‘The tigers alone—’

‘We’ll be on the road soon,’ said Flavio. ‘We’ll be making money.’

He was referring to the circus, of course. The orphans were packing the tent even as he spoke.

‘Maybe, but it’s all a question of cash flow . . .’

‘We’ve been in tighter spots than this, sir?’

‘I’m just longing for a little good news.’

‘Well, the Cuthbertsons have disappeared – that’s pretty good. Seems like they had a car waiting and there’s no trace at the moment. Course the police look after their
own, we all know that, but—’

‘That’s good riddance. Let’s hope they’ve gone for good.’

‘We do have another little complication, though, sir.’

‘What?’

Captain Routon paused and looked at Flavio. ‘We didn’t want to worry you with it, but . . . it’s becoming major.’

‘Scanlon,’ said Flavio.

‘Who on earth is Scanlon?’

‘The football scout. He was supposed to take Imagio last week, sir, but what with all the excitement, we’ve been putting it off.’

‘Absolutely right. The boy was exhausted – they all were.’

‘He’s downstairs, sir. Yesterday, as well. He’s got that contract in his hand and he says he wants the handover – or we’ll be in breach and liable to . . .
litigation. He says we’re now holding the boy against his will.’

The headmaster closed his eyes. ‘Oh dear. Where’s Imagio?’

Flavio looked at Routon again. ‘This is the problem,’ he said. ‘We can’t find him nowhere.’

‘What?’

‘We’ve been looking for him for two days. One boy says he’s in one place, so we go there. Then Anjoli says he’s just left and goes off to fetch him and he never comes
back. We go down to the lake, we go back to the tent. He’s disappeared.’

‘Have you asked Sam? They were playing football together this morning.’

‘Sam says he’s with Tomaz. And then Tomaz say he’s with you.’

‘Oh Lord . . . What’s the time?’

‘Ten past ten.’

The headmaster turned to the latest timetable. ‘I know exactly where he’ll be right now. It’s Clarissa’s science lesson and she wouldn’t let him miss that –
let’s bring Scanlon in and get the job done.’

The three men walked down to the courtyard and there, in the back seat of a large black car, sat Arthur Scanlon. He wound down the window.

‘At last,’ he said. ‘I’m sick to death of this town and this school.’

‘We’ve had rather a lot going on.’

‘I just want to be on my way. It’s a big day for the boy, I’ll say that – he’s bound to be nervous. It’s a big day for football, as well. Where is the little
chap?’

‘I’ll show you.’

‘Packed and ready, is he?’ Mr Scanlon climbed wearily onto the drive. ‘My phone has hardly stopped ringing – he’s a valuable commodity, you know.’

‘He’s with our Director of Science at the moment, so you might have to hang on for half an hour.’

‘I wish I could, sir, but I’ve just rearranged his press call in Exeter. Then we’ll drive on to London; we’ve lost far too much time.’

They made for the Tower of Science, Flavio leading.

‘We’re getting the press in right from the start,’ said Scanlon. ‘He’s the youngest we’ve signed, you see, so we’re going to splash it about a bit. One
of the TV companies is interested too, which is nice. There’s a dinner at seven, which is more press again. He’s a handsome lad, isn’t he? We’ve had a lot of sponsorship
interest, already, just from the photos. Do you know that outfit in Malaysia,
Toy Factory
?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Biggest toy manufacturers in the world. Not just sporty stuff, all sorts. They’ve made a bid for some TV ads. That boy’s face is going to be all round the world.’

Mr Scanlon had to stop for breath. ‘Fair few stairs, eh? By the way . . .’

‘What?’

The party set off again.

‘We’re not going to say much about Ribblestrop. We’ve changed the story a bit – it’s for the press mainly and this documentary they’re making. We’re
going to say we found him in a Brazilian slum. Rio de Janeiro.’

‘He’s from Colombia,’ said Captain Routon.

‘Ah, but he’s got no passport, has he? So what we’re going to do is say he’s Brazilian – fix him up with papers, make it all legal, and that way we get sponsorship
from
FruitiFibro
, that’s the Brazilian drinks company. You see, the only thing people know about Colombia is drugs – we can’t have that.’

‘Nearly there.’

‘Back to school, eh?’ laughed Scanlon. ‘What lesson’s he in at the moment?’

‘Science,’ said the headmaster.

‘Poor kid. Nice day like this, he must be bored out of his skull.’

Captain Routon knocked and the four men stepped into the room. Every child looked around, abruptly, and there was total silence.

‘Headmaster,’ said Professor Worthington, politely.

‘Clarissa. I’m so sorry to interrupt.’

‘You’ve come at the perfect moment. The digestion project’s really taken off. Good morning, everybody – boys?’

‘Good morning,’ they said, in chorus.

‘We were looking for Imagio,’ said Flavio. ‘Mr Scanlon’s been waiting for him.’

‘Oh,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘How unfortunate.’

It wasn’t quite clear what the class was up to, but it appeared to be in the middle of something unusual. The desks had been pushed back and Professor Worthington was in the centre of a
scrum of children. Whatever she was demonstrating was concealed by the crowd. Some boys were kneeling and appeared to be holding stethoscopes.

‘I never understood science,’ whispered Scanlon to Flavio. ‘I was a bit thick.’

‘We’ve got an unfortunate clash of interests, Mr Scanlon,’ said Professor Worthington. She was trying not to smile. ‘I’m afraid Imagio’s rather involved in an
experiment at the moment.’

Scanlon laughed. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s . . .’

‘He’s in a rather awkward position,’ said Sam.

Anjoli said, ‘I wouldn’t try moving him. Not till we sedate her.’

Mr Scanlon was intrigued. He stepped forward to see and the circle of children shifted. The headmaster, Flavio, and Captain Routon also moved in, aware that there was something big and
cylindrical laid out on a bench. A number of wires hung from the ceiling, attaching themselves to what looked like a very large pair of jaws.

‘Move back, Vijay. Caspar, get out of the way.’

The four men saw it then. It was the python and its mouth was gaping so wide that its jaws were dislocated. Its eyes were wide, as if it was straining. They blinked once, then bulged a little
more.

‘It’s a snake,’ said Scanlon. He took a pace back.

‘It was his turn, Mr Scanlon,’ said the professor. ‘I’m very strict – they all get a chance. There is no other way to understand how a snake absorbs its
food.’

‘So where’s the boy?’ said Scanlon. His eyes were darting from the snake, around the circle. He noticed Millie, who was grinning at him. He went forward again and peered
nervously into the python’s mouth. A brown face stared back at him, taut with concentration.

‘Hi,’ said Imagio.

The man looked around the circle again, totally at sea.

‘I’m OK,’ said Imagio. ‘You can feel the acid though, man. It’s all down my back—’

‘He’s being eaten! Do something!’ said Scanlon.

‘I got the mandibular raking too,’ said Imagio. ‘It’s . . . wow. Like a massage.’

‘That’s the ribs,’ said Caspar.

‘Get him out!’ shouted Scanlon. ‘The car’s downstairs! He’s got to be in Exeter . . . Get him out of there!’

He spun round again, astonished that nobody was moving.

‘Get this boy out of that snake,’ he hissed.

‘Imagio,’ said Professor Worthington, ‘I think you’d better tell him.’

‘Tell me what? You’re insane, all of you . . .’

Imagio tried to roll his shoulders and he felt the python’s muscles convulse. He wormed his way forward a couple of centimetres, but was suddenly drawn back by a powerful force. His face
had almost disappeared.

‘Mr Scanlon?’ he shouted.

‘What?’

‘Can you hear me?’

‘Of course I can hear you. Give me your hand!’

‘Sorry, man . . . look . . . I can’t hear you too well, it’s all kind of . . . slimy down here. But . . . I’ve been turning it over. I’ve been thinking and
thinking, and . . . I just don’t think I can do it.’

Mr Scanlon stared. ‘What can’t you do?’

Imagio managed to get his nose up, so he could look at the football scout properly.

‘I want to stay here,’ he said. ‘I want to go to college and stuff and . . . I’m probably not smart enough, but what I really want to be is a doctor.’

Mr Scanlon was speechless.

‘Sorry, man. It’s my decision. The world needs doctors more than footballers.’

II

Millie asked Miles if he would go for a walk with her.

He said he would but he’d like Sanchez to come. Sanchez said he wasn’t sure he was wanted, so Millie told him not to be stupid.

Then they weren’t sure where to go. They talked about it: the Edge was a lovely viewpoint, they said, but too familiar. The lake was still muddy and there was debris from the smashed-up
boats. There were no new walks and it was steady drizzle.

Eventually, they pulled out three bicycles and cycled into Ribblestrop town. There they found a tearoom and ordered cream teas. When the scones came, they were hot to touch. The jam was pure,
fresh strawberry, the butter was soft, and the waitress was huge and maternal.

‘Now if you want anything else, my dears, you just ring this bell,’ she said. ‘You warm enough? What’s your name, dear?’

She was looking at Sanchez.

‘Andreas,’ said Sanchez.

‘You look just like my youngest,’ she said, unexpectedly. ‘Now you stay long as you like and eat as much as you want – no rush. I’ll be downstairs.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sanchez, blushing heavily.

Considerable time was spent buttering the scones. Miles was scientific in his pouring of the tea and the adding of milk and sugar took forever.

After some time, Millie said, ‘I’m sorry I said those things I said, Miles.’

Miles said, ‘You don’t have to say sorry.’

‘I do.’

‘You’ve got nothing to say sorry about. I was . . . bad.’

‘Yeah, but the thing is, you saved my life. You and Henry.’

‘Henry saved your life. I was just there. Have more jam, look. Shall I ask for more? We’re running out.’

Millie went to speak and stopped. She was looking at Sanchez. They sorted out their scones again and discovered how long it took to divide cream fairly.

‘I’ve been working on a speech,’ said Millie. ‘Will you let me read it?’

Miles stared at his knife. When he tilted his head forward, his hair hung so low his eyes were completely masked.

‘
Dear Miles
,’ said Millie.
‘I said the most awful, terrible, horrible things. I don’t know why. I just wasn’t ever sure about you and all the things you
said. I liked you from the first time I saw you and I like you even more now, even though – obviously – you can be really stupid. Changing that letter to get you back to Ribblestrop was
the best thing I ever did. I am not fit to be Head Girl because I am a liar and very mean and jealous, so I have resigned the post, though I don’t know who else they will get to do it and
I’m not sure if I ever had any duties anyway, but I am definitely not fit to be someone that is a role model. I hope you are not going to leave this school because I really want to get to
know you better. From Millie.
’

Miles said, ‘Thank you, I . . .’

‘I wrote you a letter too,’ said Sanchez. ‘It’s quite long though, so I can just give it to you.’

He passed an envelope to Miles and Miles slipped it into his blazer, his face burning red.

‘How did you swim under those rocks?’ said Millie. ‘Brother Rees says it’s completely impossible. He says nobody could do it.’

Miles picked up his teacup and it trembled in his hands.