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How lucky he didn’t.

The corner of Flavio’s trailer ripped into the little thing like a can-opener, stripping out the front and concertinaing it onto the road. Ruskin wrestled the cab to the right and got
round it: the second trailer gave it another hard cuff as he came in to park and spread boxes of burgers all over the grass. The animals were manic now, but in the satisfying exhalation of his
air-brakes, Ruskin didn’t hear them. Handbrake on: engine off. A safe arrival.

The boys jumped down and there, clambering up the bank, were Flavio, Millie, Sam – and Sushamila, led by a black-and-gold tie.

The walk had revived Sam, though he was a little unsteady. Without eyebrows, he had a surprised look, which seemed appropriate. Oli and Ruskin embraced him like a soldier back from the war, and
they sat on the kerb as the boy did his best to describe the sensations of being carried in the mouth of a beast four times your size. Flavio put Sushamila in the trailer and did a quick repair of
the damaged floor. Ruskin returned Sam’s cap and Sam smartened himself up as best he could.

‘What now?’ said Millie.

‘Back to where we stayed,’ said Sam. ‘We’re meeting Captain Routon there. The headmaster said to expect him early.’

Millie looked at the lights and the smoke.

‘I think we should probably avoid that place,’ she said. ‘Do you realise, Oli, you’ve caused a major incident on your first day? In fact, you’ve caused a major
disaster.’

‘I’m gonna go,’ said Flavio. ‘There’s a lorry park a couple of miles from here. We make a call from there, OK?’

Millie said, ‘Did you say you were out of food for the animals?’

‘I got no money at all. Every last bit I gave that woman for the room.’

‘Give me a hand, Oli. I can see a solution.’

Twenty minutes later, they were ready to roll. Oli wrote the note and stuck it, with a piece of Millie’s gum, onto the burger-van’s smashed up wall. The animals
were well-fed, and calm.

The next morning saw a further series of connections as different journeys inched forward. Breakfasts were going on all over the world: a complex network of cookers, cups,
dishes, knives, and forks. For example, in the crypt under Ribblestrop Towers, six elderly monks were eating porridge from wooden bowls. Over their heads, thirty-seven thousand feet up on a British
Airways’ 747, a slim, blond boy called Miles, in a grey shirt and a black-and-gold tie, drank fresh juice, while the chef prepared his omelette. His mother was still sleeping in the seat next
to his. She would want only rosehip tea when she awoke.

Captain Routon was already on the road, speeding up the motorway having breakfasted on a Mars bar. Brother Doonan and Father O’Hanrahan were dozing fitfully in a hospital waiting room. The
restaurant wouldn’t open till nine-thirty due to staff-shortages, and the coffee-machine accepted money but refused to give drinks. Lady Vyner – the proud and insomniac owner of
Ribblestrop Towers – ate Marmite on toast, with a glass of early-morning rum. Little Lord Caspar, grandson and heir to the estate, had a chocolate pancake. The orphans were finishing yet more
jellies from the cancelled party, whilst Tomaz was in his glorious home under the ground opening a can of pineapple chunks.

In Colombia, Andreas Sanchez was fast asleep because it was half-past one in the morning, but a servant was preparing fresh bread for the household and the nightingales sang to the
fireflies.

In the school’s west tower, as the sun rose over frosty lawns, the headmaster had Ryvita with Professor Worthington – she brought jam and he brought marmalade.

It was going to be a very special day.

Sam, Ruskin, Oli, and Millie helped Flavio feed the animals, distributing the last burgers as fairly as they could. They had phoned the school and Captain Routon had details of
their location. It was just a question of waiting for him, so they were happy to explore the truck. There were two tigers, who seemed to get hungrier however many boxes they dispatched. Sushamila
the lioness nibbled more gently, content to let Sam feed her. She gazed at him with loving, shortsighted eyes. Flavio unlocked a partition, took down various shutters, and then – to
everyone’s amazement – produced a small camel, which he led down onto the tarmac. The camel looked utterly miserable and lapped at a puddle. It had thick brown hair, which rippled in
the freezing wind. The children realised there were hidden chambers.

‘Flavio, there’s a fish-tank!’ said Millie. ‘What are you doing with a fish-tank?’

‘You wanna go careful, man. That’s the python.’

‘Wow, you’ve got a python?’ said Ruskin. ‘I’ve always wanted a snake.’

‘It’s not in the tank,’ said Millie. ‘One dead mouse, that’s all I can see.’

‘Oh boy,’ said Flavio, wearily. He pulled out his flash-light and played it from the tank to the floor. Sure enough, a large hole had been chewed in one corner, between the iron
bars. ‘She did this last week,’ said Flavio. ‘She gets cold, I guess – so she goes down to the engine. Then she gets hot, then she gets cold . . . Crazy. Come with
me.’

He jumped down and crouched by a wheel. Sure enough, when he pointed the torch beam, they could see silver-grey skin. It was wrapped tight around the truck’s undercarriage and the head
appeared to be jammed up in the gearbox.

‘Is it hungry?’ said Sam. ‘Shall I put some burger on its back?’

‘She’s not hungry. She’s greedy as a pig. Got a dog on Sunday she’s still digesting.’

The children stared.

‘You gave her a
dog
?’ said Millie.

Flavio shook his head.

‘No. We parked up in this nice quiet street – no problem, we’re minding our own business. Then this old lady comes by, walking this yappy little thing, and I’m just
chatting away, being friendly . . . Next thing I knew, the dog’s under the truck doing its business, then . . . Pythons move quick when they want to.’

‘You seem to have a lot of bad luck,’ said Ruskin.

‘Ha!’ snorted Flavio. ‘Everywhere I go, is a problem. I think this is the end of the road, though – I don’t think we can go much further.’

It had started to snow.

‘Shall we get the camel back in?’ said Oli.

‘No, he loves it. It’s a change from a desert, I guess. Let’s get in the cab. When’s this man coming to fetch you?’

‘Depends what time he left,’ said Millie. She pushed Violetta and managed to force her off the front seats. ‘Flavio . . . why are you driving round England with a truck full of
animals? It doesn’t seem a very normal thing to be doing. I asked you last night, are you some kind of circus?”

‘Some kind of nothing,’ said Flavio.

‘Another thing,’ said Sam. ‘What you were doing at that hotel place?’

Flavio sat back in his seat and pulled a face. ‘It’s a long story,’ he said.

‘
Are
you a zoo?’ said Sam.

‘Are you meeting someone?’ said Oli.

‘No.’

‘Are you part of a . . . fun-fair?’ said Ruskin.

‘Hang on,’ said Millie. ‘Why don’t we let him tell us?’

‘I will,’ said Flavio. ‘I’ll tell you everything – this is just a big load of trouble and it’s gonna put me in jail. I got all this lot cut-price, friend of a
friend. Just a big problem rip-off, is what it is. It was a zoo, then it was going to be a safari park . . .’

‘So you’re an animal trainer?’ said Ruskin.

‘I’m nothing, no. No education, no qualifications – nothing. I was at school for two years, OK? Two years, I just about read an’ write. All they do at school is beat me
up. I got out at eight years old, became an acrobat.’

Millie laughed. ‘You ran away from school? To be an acrobat?’

Flavio laughed as well. ‘Yeah. I ran away – best thing I ever did. This was a
favela
in São Paulo, OK? Little stinking place, seven brothers, three sisters. Anything,
man, just to get out! I met these guys doing street work and I was small, so I do the trapeze, high-wire, pyramid stuff. They fire me out a gun, set me on fire up a rope—’

‘Out of a gun?’ said Sam. ‘Like a cannonball?’

‘Yeah, like a cannonball. They make a gun out of a sewer pipe, put some dynamite in a hole. I’m just a little kid, got a hard head. They shoot me out over the crowd, sometimes into a
net, sometimes into the lake. That age, you just keep bouncing, yeah? We go all over Brazil, make a bit, lose a bit. I do motorbike stuff . . . fire. I been on fire so many times I don’t feel
nothing! We go up to Rio, Brasilia – it’s a life, OK? Then I get to fourteen, some of us make a little show on our own, they bring us to Spain. There, we make proper money. For the
first time.’

‘Wow,’ said Ruskin. ‘You were really a circus boy?’

‘Circus boy, stuntman for a little bit . . .’

‘Stunts!’ cried Sam. ‘Like in the films? Can you do stunts?’

‘I did a few movies, then I have a big bust-up with the boss over money – always money. I was dumb, I met some bad people, did a bank-job, and – they still looking for me in
Spain, but I got out of there. We held up this bank, me and two guys. Some policeman starts shooting, everyone running. So I cross to Morocco, do some circus work. Then twenty-three, twenty-four:
you get a bit old. You put on a bit of weight . . .’ He slapped his belly. ‘I can still do it, but . . . things are getting slow. Between you an’ me, the last few years, I had a
few little bad accidents, OK? I’m doin’ a show in London. This is a few years ago, alright? There’s a little gang of us, go from Marrakech to England. We do this jump – I
gotta do a jump over some people . . . big mess. I don’ make the jump.’

‘I’m lost,’ said Millie. ‘You had to jump over some people? Is this on a motorbike?’

‘No way, I can’t afford a bike any more! This is a new show; we do it in shopping malls.’ He closed his eyes. ‘This is bad, OK? We’re outside some big store. We get
the people out of the crowd, all stand in a line. Long line, ten, fifteen, twenty people. All the mums and dads, little kids – my friend, the boss, saying, “Now, ladies and gentlemen!
Presenting . . . Flavio Guamala! He’s gonna fly! He’s the birdman, yeah? Two somersaults, all the way from South America!” I take a run, the drum goes – all that rubbish.
Little trampoline, and I go up and turn over two times, OK? Why are you laughing?’

The boys were giggling. Millie was smiling broadly.

‘Go on!’ said Sam. ‘It sounds amazing!’

‘It was amazing when I get it right. I’m supposed to land in front o’ the lass person on the line. Big, amazing thing, everyone cheering. This time, I don’ know –
maybe the trampoline was bad, I don’ know . . .’

‘Oh no,’ said Oli. He had stopped laughing. ‘You landed
on
someone?’

‘Wow . . .’

‘She go down hard, man.’

‘A woman?’ said Sam.

‘She was the last in the line. She’s OK; she’s in a wheelchair now. She’s gonna be fine, is her back a little busted.’

Millie was open-mouthed. ‘Flavio . . . you must be jinxed. You have the worst luck I’ve ever heard of, apart from Sam.’

‘Yeah, well. I said it was bad.’ He nodded sadly. ‘That’s when I say, no more jumping, you’re no little boy no more. Is getting dangerous and the police say how
come I got no papers, no insure. So I move, get outta there, go up north, to the seaside. End up in this big house with a zoo, and the guy says we need someone to look after the cats. I did cat
stuff in Brazil, so I took it on . . . and that’s how I come to meet all this lot.’

‘But why is the zoo in your lorry?’ said Ruskin, after a pause. ‘You said there was a big house?’

‘The zoo closed,’ said Flavio. ‘The house got sold, everything was sold. I tell you, the owner! Man, he’s just drinking hard, all the animals are dying. The place is
closing, nobody coming. Winter: no tourists. Then we get inspected and it’s the same old thing, “Where’s the papers, where’s your insurance? Cruelty to animals!”
Everyone’s leaving and me? I’m waiting to be paid. I got no money, nowhere to go. Story of my life, man! I say to the boss, “Where’s my money?” He says, “There
is no money, everything’s broke.” He says, “Take the animals. Take the truck – it’s no good, but it’s somewhere to sleep.” ‘

‘This is very sad,’ said Ruskin.

‘We put the animals in the truck, ‘cause we got to leave – the council is closing us down, we got the Animal Rights people all over us. I wake up – the boss has gone. I
got a truck of animals and just a little, tiny bit of cash.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I didn’t know what to do! There was a brown bear. He got flu – died about two weeks ago. I had a seal. Got out of the tank, found him dead in a puddle. I got a scorpion
– he hasn’t moved for three days, I think maybe he’s dead as well.’ He sighed. ‘Yes, so . . . Today. I was meeting a man, we were gonna make a film maybe, maybe not.
He says he needs animals, maybe . . . he’s waiting for some money. But I phone last night, just before I met you. He’s doing six weeks in Paris. Gone. You know how much money I
got?’ Flavio smiled bitterly and opened a thin wallet. A ten-pound note sat all on its own. ‘Enough for nothing.’ He leaned up to the back of the cab, where the panther was
snoring gently. He patted her belly. ‘She’s ready to drop, and I don’t know what to do. I was going to buy half a bottle of whisky and find a police station. Oh man . . . look at
this weather.’