Back on the riverside path, Jinx won’t shut up about crisp sandwiches. He says, when he gets home, he’s going to make a list of everything that might work and do a chart of his results. Be scientific. Then he goes all dreamy-eyed remembering his dinner.

‘The way the butter squidges through the broken crisps,’ he mutters.

‘It’s all about the texture,’ Catrin says.

He looks at me, shaking his head. ‘Jason, you don’t know what you’re missing, mun.’

We’ve reached Ystradmawr. It’s not that different to Ponty. To our left, across the river, are rows of terraced houses, just like the ones me and Catrin live in. From here it looks like they’re stacked on top of each other. A road separates the bottom rows; a bread van drives along it now.

There’s also playing fields and a spectator stand. When Ponty Youth played here last year, I stood in there with Dad. We went mad when Tam scored a try – waving our scarves in the air, grabbing each other and jumping up and down. I smile. Sometimes I can do that, remember Mam and Dad and smile because of the good things.

On the right, running along the foot of the mountain is the railway line, then it all slopes up again. There aren’t many trains now. Dad told me that, when all the pits were working, the line was really busy but it’s not like that any more.

‘If we cross over there –’ Tam points to a high footbridge that spans the river and the road – ‘we can check out the papers in that shop, see if there’s any news on the Beast.’

‘And get more crisps,’ Jinx says.

‘God, I hope no one’s already got a picture,’ Catrin says.

‘Yep.’ Jinx laughs. ‘I heard The Herald’s also offering a reward for a photo of a rare packet of cheese and onion.’

I clip him round the head. ‘Idiot!’

There’s one of those boards outside the shop. It’s got Western Mail written on top. A sheet of paper stuck behind criss-crossed wire says MINERS’ STRIKE LATEST – nothing about a wild cat.

‘Probably not made the big papers,’ Tam says, pushing the door open. ‘Let’s see if they have any Heralds left inside.’

The bell on the door jingles. The shop’s smaller than Gwyn’s, it’s more like a proper paper shop. Except there’s a whole shelf of paraffin lamps and candles. Not cheap either – the owner must be making a fortune. The three-day week isn’t tough on everyone.

‘Bore da!’ says the man behind the counter. ‘A sut y gallaf eich helpu heddiw?’

Catrin answers in Welsh. I recognise the words ‘dim siarad Cymraeg’ and I know she’s telling him we can’t speak it.

He looks annoyed. This is the thing with the valleys; the further up you go, the Welshier it gets. But it’s not our fault we only learn a little bit of Welsh at our school.

‘Have you got The Herald, please?’ Tam asks.

The man looks at him as if he said a load of swear words, but points to a small pile next to the till.

‘Oh,’ Tam says. ‘Yeah … ermm … diolch.’

‘Are you being funny?’ the man asks. He turns to Catrin. ‘Is he being funny?’

‘No!’ Catrin says quickly. ‘He’s not. The opposite really. I think he’s making an effort.’ She glances sideways at Tam, shoos him away and starts talking to the man in Welsh again.

Tam flicks through the paper until the man points out this isn’t a library and Tam looks embarrassed and digs into his pocket for 3p.

There’s only a quarter of a page about the big cat; a reminder of the reward and the same write-up as before, nothing new. So the good news is no one has beaten us to it. We’re still in with a chance.

Me and Jinx are shoving penny sweets into paper bags when the bell jingles again and Gary and Dean walk in.

Flaming hell.

‘How come you got here so fast?’ Gary asks.

I scrunch up the bag. ‘How come you got here so slow?’

They look confused for a second, then Gary says, ‘We’re on the fastest road, aren’t we? No need to hurry – we can take our time, man … go with the flow …’ He makes a spaced-out face like he’s a hippy or something.

‘Suits us,’ Jinx says, moving closer to Tam. ‘We’ll find the Beast before you. We’ve got a plan and a schedule.’

Jesus, Jinx, mun, why’d you go and say that?

Dean looks at Gary. ‘Oh well, in that case we’ll just head back to Ponty then. If this lot have a plan and a schedule.’

‘I don’t want any trouble,’ the man says, happy to speak English now.

Dean smirks. ‘No trouble. We just want some fags. Ten Benson and Hedges.’

The man serves them, even though they’re our age.

Gary turns on his way out of the door. ‘Good is it, this plan of yours? Might have to pop off Top Road and check on you from time to time. See how you’re getting on, like.’

Back out on the pavement, we quickly shoulder our rucksacks and head off.

‘The man said there’s been a few in his shop on their way to Blaengarw.’ Catrin glances at me. ‘But, even if they beat us up there, it doesn’t mean they’ll find the cat first – or get the best photo. Don’t worry.’

But I am worried. Never mind Gary and Dean, there’s others after the Beast too. But none of them need the money as much as we do.