The boy tried to hold onto the bag. Matt gave it a terrific wrench and the boy came with it.

"I just want to see it," Matt whined. He didn't care what he sounded like. With a final wrench he pulled it free, and the boy crumpled to the floor.

Matt was breathing hard and his heart was racing. He was shocked by his own sudden violence.

The boy watched miserably on as Matt opened the bag's zipper and removed his old schoolbooks one by one. The Cat in the Hat. Animal Farm. His Oxford School Dictionary. It was his bag alright, the one he had hidden in the library all those years ago. He sat down slowly, put the bag down on the kitchen table, and stared at it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what came over me."

The boy looked at him as if he was a wild animal, or perhaps an evil-tempered lighthouse keeper. He got to his feet, then backed off a couple of steps, watching Matt all the time.

Suddenly, Matt remembered the dice. Were they still there, in the front pocket of the bag? He opened it and peered in. He couldn't see the leather pouch. He fished inside with his hand. Nothing.

Sudden, red anger seethed through him. He got up so fast that his chair fell over, turning on the boy and grabbing him by the wrist. "Where. Are. They?"

The boy didn't wince, or try to pull away. He was a tough little nut for sure – far tougher than Matt had been at that age.

Ward's hand had gone involuntarily to the pocket at which the dogs had been sniffing earlier. They must have smelled the leather, Matt thought.

Matt pointed at the pocket and said: "Empty it." His meaning couldn't have been clearer.

Surprisingly, the boy did as he was told, taking the pouch carefully out of the pocket and opening his hand so Matt could see it.

The pouch was hairy. It moved.

It took Matt a moment to realise he was looking at a mouse. No wonder the dogs had been so interested in the pocket.

Ward gave him an infuriating smile and returned the mouse to the pocket.

"The other one," Matt said, pointing.

Ward didn't move.

"The. Other. One." He jabbed his finger into the boy's chest with each word. He wondered what had come over him. He was not a violent person, and it wasn't like him to physically threaten anyone, least of all a child. It was as if he was watching himself enact some horrible piece of theatre. He felt sickened by what he was doing, but couldn't stop. Still, he couldn't quite shake the belief that this was all just a dream, one from which he could wake at any moment. And you could do anything in dreams. As soon as you woke the slate was wiped clean.

Ward reached into his other pocket with his free hand. When he opened his hand there was no leather pouch in it. The dice themselves lay on his palm. Death and the Donkey.

Just as Matt went to snatch the dice out of Ward's hand, the boy vanished.

Violence against minors is unacceptable. Unless it's that Jaden Smith kid.