GOOD SATURDAY

As arranged, I met young Byron at the Bus Station, drove him home and escorted him through the garden to Wilson’s 'Asteroid Shelter.'

After a few minutes of shouting and stamping on the ground, Wilson’s head emerged, blinking in the daylight.

‘Has it crashed yet?’ he asked, ‘Did it miss us? The Wi-Fi signal isn’t very good down here…’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Byron replied. ‘I didn’t come all this way to sit in a wet hole in the ground – I came to help you develop… well…’ he touched one claw to the side of his nose, ‘You-Know-What! The Secret Project!’

‘But what about Tiangong-1 crashing on Uckfield and killing everyone?’ W protested. 

Nërp interrupted, saying, ’The Tiangong-1 Space Station’s orbit does not even pass over Uckfield. It does not even pass over most of Europe. I have calculated the chances of it landing anywhere in Sussex as…’ – he made a brief whirring sound, not unlike wheels spinning – ‘Zero. The Space Station will NOT kill you here. Probabilities for other locations may vary.’

Reluctantly, Wilson climbed out of his Shelter, dusted the soil, mud and a few surprised worms from his fur and followed Byron and Nërp into the house.