Grandad, Daniel Smith, Destry Camberwick, Miss Pritchett and the local butcher (soon to be followed by the principal). My social life had never been so busy. I should chain myself to railings more often.

And the guest appearances kept on coming.

‘Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad,’ I said. I didn’t really have a choice. They stood in front of me, hands on hips, glaring down with looks that might well kill, given enough time. At that moment they just made me feel queasy. ‘Fancy seeing you here! Doing a spot of shopping? Best to avoid the butcher and the supermarket, in my humble opinion …’ I tried a winning smile.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ said Mum. Every word was a dagger. Between the words and the looks, I was dead meat – which was ironic, under the circumstances.

‘Well, I’m chained to a railing, protesting animal cruelty,’ I said. ‘I thought that might have been obvious from the chains and the signs.’

‘Are you being a smart-alec again?’

‘Look …’ said Grandad. It wasn’t, as it turned out, a wise thing to say. I don’t know why. Look is not a very provocative word. Mum spun to face him.

‘I might have known you’d be involved,’ she spat. ‘Whenever Rob gets into strife, you’re around.’

Dad put his hand on Mum’s arm, but she shook it off.

‘You’re a bad influence,’ she continued, her eyes boring into Grandad’s.

‘Thanks,’ said Pop. ‘I appreciate the compliment. It’s good to know I can still be a bad influence.’

‘And as for you …’ Mum returned her attention to me. That was a pity. I was enjoying Grandad coming under fire for a while and giving me a well-earned break. ‘You are grounded.’

I was tempted to tell her this was indeed true because I couldn’t actually get off the ground but, wisely I feel, I kept my mouth shut.

‘You are grounded,’ she said, ‘for the rest of your life. Now, get up. You’re coming home.’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Bit of a problem there, actually.’

Andrew explained about the oversight regarding keys to padlocks. Mum rolled her eyes.

‘You kids are idiots,’ she said.

‘I told them …’ said Grandad.

‘Shut up,’ said Mum. She pointed a finger at Andrew. He flinched. ‘Ring your father and get him to unlock you,’ she said. She turned the finger on me. I couldn’t help it; I flinched too. ‘I expect you home in no more than half an hour,’ she said. ‘Otherwise, your punishment will be extended.’

What? Grounded not just for life, but the afterlife as well? I didn’t say this. I was scared just thinking it.

Grandad, Daniel Smith, Destry Camberwick, Miss Pritchett, the local butcher, Mum, Dad and Miss Cunningham.

‘I want to see you in my office first thing on Monday morning,’ she roared. Or maybe it was a bellow.

‘Yes, Miss Cunningham,’ Andrew and I murmured.

Grandad opened his mouth to speak. The principal cringed and beat a hasty retreat.

Things were going brilliantly. All this trouble and the reporter hadn’t even turned up. It couldn’t get worse.

Then it got worse.

Grandad, Daniel Smith, Destry Camberwick, Miss Pritchett, Mum, Dad, the butcher, Miss Cunningham and the police.

Hurrah!

‘What’s going on here?’ There were two police officers. One was female and one wasn’t. Neither appeared particularly friendly. Then again, I couldn’t help but stare at their guns, which didn’t radiate goodwill and peace on earth.

‘Umm …’ I said, proving once again that under pressure I always find exactly the right words.

‘These kids are protesting against animal cruelty,’ said Grandad. ‘They’re drawing attention to the fact that local businesses are profiting from immoral practices.’

‘Is that right?’ said the male officer. He drew himself up straight and sort of thrust his chest towards Pop. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ said Grandad. ‘And yes to your second question as well.’

‘Are you trying to be smart? Are you? Are you trying to be smart?’

‘They’re not breaking any laws,’ said Grandad.

‘Oh, aren’t they? Aren’t they?’ said the officer. ‘I guess I should be the judge of that. I say I’m the one who should be judging.’

‘Why do you say everything twice?’ said Grandad. ‘Have you got a learning difficulty? I said, have you got a learning difficulty?’

I’m not sure what would have happened to us, if the police hadn’t suddenly become more interested in Grandad than Andrew and me. I can’t imagine they would have arrested us, but it was academic anyway, because when the male officer took a step forward, Grandad punched him in the face.

By an amazing stroke of luck, this happened to be when the reporter turned up. He got a great shot of us chained to the railings, the placards prominent. He also got a brilliant shot of Grandad punching a police officer in the face, and of Pop being bundled into the back of a police car. Suddenly, disaster was averted.

Except for Grandad, of course.

*

Grandad, Daniel Smith, Destry Camberwick, Miss Pritchett, Mum, Dad, the butcher, Miss Cunningham, the police, the reporter and Andrew’s dad.

He didn’t have the keys to the padlocks, so he had to go home for a power tool and cut us free.

He wasn’t happy, either. He’d have to join the end of a very long queue, but I didn’t tell him that.