Wilf’s eyes shone. “It shot flames at me,” he said. “But I didn’t care. I just ducked to the side, leapt up and smacked it on the nose.”

Maud and the Wild family were sitting around the spluttering campfire, listening to the story. Mr Wild was nodding as his son spoke, his eyes sparkling.

“Then it let out a scream of terror and raced off into the woods,” Wilf continued. “It won’t bother us again.”

Mr Wild stood up and clapped Wilf on the shoulder. ‘I’m proud of you, son. You did well. Unlike your weakling of a brother.”

“Sorry, Dad,” said Warren, squirming. “You didn’t see it, though. It was horrible.”

“It was pretty fearsome,” said Maud. “It’s not surprising that Warren hid in the cupboard.”

Mrs Wild shook her head and tutted. She took a packet of raw lamb chops out of her picnic bag and handed a couple to Wilf. “As a reward for being so brave, you can have your brother’s supper, too.”

“What am I going to eat?” cried Warren.

Mrs Wild took out a packet of bone-shaped dog biscuits and tossed them to him. He whimpered with shame, but tucked into them anyway.

Maud grinned and wandered over to the car, where her dad was wrestling their muddy tent into a black bin-bag.

“Are we off home?” Maud asked.

“Afraid so,” said Mr Montague. “I don’t want to risk sliding back into the swamp if the weather turns. Between you and me, I don’t think this is very good terrain for camping. You need firm soil for pegs. Why they promote this place as a campsite I have no idea.”

Maud was about to point out that a large ‘KEEP OUT’ sign hardly counted as encouragement, but she didn’t want to be mean.

She noticed Penelope taking down her own tent, and headed over.

“I think this belongs to you?” she said, handing over Penelope’s copy of Weather Spells for Beginners. “If only you hadn’t dropped it. You might have been able to cast a spell at the Beast rather than running for the safety of the cupboard.”

“It’s not funny,” said Penelope. She opened the book and pointed to a lightning-bolt spell. “And if you ever tell anyone about it, this is what you’ll get.”

“I promise I won’t breathe a word,” said Maud.

Penelope tramped back to the truck, where Mrs Wild was loading the canvas stools into the boot.

Warren was waiting by the front door on the passenger side.

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Mr Wild. “Wilf gets the front seat today.”

Warren opened the back door and skulked in.

Mr Wild started up the engine, and the truck rolled across the clearing on its huge wheels.

He passed Mr Montague, who was attaching the caravan to the back of the car, and honked his horn.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Shame about the weather.”

“That’s summer for you,” said Mr Montague, snorting out a laugh. “But thanks for inviting us all the same. Stay cool, dudes!”

Mr Wild forced a smile and sped away down the track. As they went, Warren stuck his head out of the back window and yapped mournfully.

Maud got in the back of their car. Milly was sitting there with her flower-pressing book on her lap and her seatbelt on.

“So that’s settled,” Mrs Montague was saying. “We’ll listen to our Ultimate Driving Hits collection until junction nine, and then we’ll swap to your Pink Pony Princess Party CD.’

“Fine,” said Milly. “As long as we get out of this place.”

Maud didn’t know which half of the journey she was looking forward to least, but she didn’t really care. She had her exercise book, her pen and a very important essay to write.

As the car juddered away, with ‘Born to be Wild’ blaring out yet again, she opened her book and began again: