“I’m home, darling! Early finish today. Hurrah!” The masculine voice echoed through the house, and fell on the ears of Mrs Brown and the insurance salesman.

“Quick!” she exclaimed. “It’s my husband. He’ll go crazy if he catches you.”

“Who…what?” the salesman stuttered.

“I didn’t expect him home yet. He’ll commit murder if he finds you.”

“Huh? You never mentioned a husband.”

“Pull your trousers up! I’ll take him into the back garden… you watch through the window. Run out of the front door when you get chance. Don’t let him catch you.”

“I’ve collected Petey early from the nursery,” Mr. Brown’s loud voice interrupted. “I thought we could go for a picnic. Where are you, darling?”

“Coming, dearest,” she called, buttoning her blouse as she hurried from the bedroom.

The salesman’s heart was pounding as he hurriedly hoisted his trousers. “A husband,” he moaned in exasperation and fear, “I must get out of here.”

“Are you hiding from my Daddy?” He almost fainted at the sound of the child’s voice.

“Err… yes. Shush! We’re playing hide and seek. Don’t make a noise now, that’s a good boy.”

“Is Daddy ‘it’? Does he have to find you?”

“Err… yes. You can hide with me. We must keep quiet. Shush now.”

“I like playing games. My name’s Petey. What’s yours?”

“Err… I’m Uncle Johnny. Shush now… good boy.” He glanced hopelessly out of the window. No sign of anyone in the garden. “Come on, come on,” he groaned. “What’s keeping them?”

“Have you got a football?” Petey asked in a seemingly innocent voice.

“No, I don’t have a football. Shush now… good boy.”

“I’ve got two. Would you like to buy the blue one?”

“Err… no thanks. Please keep quiet now.”

“I’m going to play football with my Daddy!” Petey’s tone was loud and petulant.

“No… wait a minute.” Uncle Johnny pleaded in desperation. “I’ll buy your football for 50 pence.”

“Mummy said it cost £2.”

“Ok… here’s £2. Shush now. We have to keep quiet so Daddy can’t hear us.”

Peering through the window, he was relieved to see Mrs. Brown and her husband finally in the garden. “Oh heck,” he quaked. “He’s huge! I’ve got to get out of here.” He turned to the small boy. “I have to go home now, Petey. Can’t play anymore. Shush now… good boy… nice and quiet.”

“Shall I keep the blue ball for you?” Petey had an intelligent gleam in his eye.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Will you play football with me next time?”

“Yes, of course. Bye, Petey. Nice and quiet now.”

“Bye, Uncle Johnny.”

The insurance salesman crept out of the bedroom on tiptoe. Half-way down the stairs, he froze in horror as he heard Petey’s voice calling through the bedroom window. “Uncle Johnny has to go now, Daddy. Can’t play hide and seek any more. He said he’ll play football next time he comes to see Mummy.”