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il of pine needles that the still…accelerating tree was throwing off。
Now the lights were spinning。
The books； having flung themselves off the shelves； had joined the tarantella。
Jack could see the enemy； in his mind's eye； racing between the objects like a juggler spinning plates on sticks； trying to keep them all moving at once。 It must be exhausting work； he thought。 The demon was probably close to collapse。 It couldn't be thinking straight。 Overexcited。 Impulsive。 Vulnerable。 This must be the moment； if ever there was a moment； to join battle at last。 To face the thing； defy it； and trap it。
For its part； the Yattering was enjoying this orgy of destruction。 It flung every movable object into the fray； setting everything spinning。
It watched with satisfaction as the daughters twitched and scurried； it laughed to see the old man stare； pop…eyed； at this preposterous ballet。
Surely he was nearly mad； wasn't he？
The beauties had reached the door； their hair and skin full of needles。 Polo didn't see them leave。 He ran across the room； dodging a rain of ornaments to do so； and picked up a brass toasting fork which the enemy had overlooked。 Bric…a…brac filled the air around his head； dancing around with sickening speed。 His flesh was bruised and punctured。 But the exhilaration of joining battle had overtaken him； and he set about beating the books； and the clocks； and the china to smithereens。 Like a man in a cloud of locusts he ran around the room； bringing down his favourite books in a welter of fluttering pages； smashing whirling Dresden； shattering the lamps。 A litter of broken possessions swamped the floor； some of it still twitching as the life went out of the fragments。 But for every object brought low； there were a dozen still spinning； still whining。
He could hear Gina at the door； yelling to him to get out； to leave it alone。
But it was so enjoyable； playing against the enemy more directly than he'd ever allowed himself before。 He didn't want to give up。 He wanted the demon to show itself； to be known； to be recognized。
He wanted confrontation with the Old One's emissary once and for all。
Without warning the tree gave way to the dictates of centrifugal force； and exploded。 The noise was like a howl of death。 Branches； twigs； needles； balls； lights； wire； ribbons； flew across the room。 Jack； his back to the explosion； felt a gust of energy hit him hard； and he was flung to the ground。 The back of his neck and his scalp were shot full of pine…needles。 A branch； naked of greenery； shot past his head and impaled the sofa。 Fragments of tree pattered to the carpet around him。
Now other objects around the room； spun beyond the tolerance of their structures； were exploding like the tree。 The television blew up； sending a lethal wave of glass across the room； much of which buried itself in the opposite wall。 Fragments of the television's innards； so hot they singed the skin； fell on Jack； as he elbowed himself towards the door like a soldier under bombardment。
The room was so thick with a barrage of shards it was like a fog。 The cushions had lent their down to the scene； snowing on the carpet。 Porcelain pieces： a beautifully…glazed arm； a courtesan's head； bounced on the floor in front of his nose。
Gina was crouching at the door； urging him to hurry； her eyes narrowed against the hail。 As Jack reached the door； and felt her arms around him； he swore he could hear laughter from the lounge。 Tangible； audible laughter； rich and satisfied。
Amanda was standing in the hall； her hair full of pine…needles； staring down at him。 He pulled his legs through the doorway and Gina slammed the door shut on the demolition。
〃What is it？〃 she demanded。 〃Poltergeist？ Ghost？ Mother's ghost？〃 The thought of his dead wife being responsible for such wholesale destruction struck Jack as funny。
Amanda was half smiling。 Good； he thought； she's ing out of it。 Then he met the vacant look in her eyes and the truth dawned。 She'd broken； her sanity had taken refuge where this fantastique couldn't get at it。
〃What's in there？〃 Gina was asking； her grip on his arm so strong it stopped the blood。
〃I don't know；〃 he lied。 〃Amanda？〃 Amanda's smile didn't decay。 She just stared on at him； through him。
〃You do know。〃
〃No。〃
〃You're lying。〃
〃I think。。。〃 He picked himself off the floor； brushing the pieces of porcelain； the feathers； the glass； off his shirt and trousers。
〃I think 。 。 。 I shall go for a walk。〃 Behind him； in the lounge； the last vestiges of whining had stopped。 The air in the hallway was electric with unseen presences。 It was very close to him； invisible as ever； but so close。 This was the most dangerous time。 He mustn't lose his nerve now。 He must stand up as though nothing had happened； he must leave Amanda be； leave explanations and recriminations until it was all over and done with。
〃Walk？〃 Gina said； disbelievingly。 〃Yes。。。 walk。。。 I need some fresh air。〃
〃You can't leave us here。〃
〃I'll find somebody to help us clear up。〃
〃But Mandy。〃
〃She'll get over it。 Leave her be。〃 That was hard。 That was almost unforgivable。 But it was said now。
He walked unsteadily towards the front door； feeling nauseous after so much spinning。 At his back Gina was raging。
〃You can't just leave！ Are you out of your mind？〃
〃I need the air；〃 he said； as casually as his thumping heart and his parched throat would permit。 〃So I'll just go out for a moment。〃 No； the Yattering said。 No； no； no。
It was behind him； Polo could feel it。 So angry now； so ready to twist off his head。 Except that it wasn't allowed； ever to touch him。 But he could feel its resentment like a physical presence。
He took another step towards the front door。
It was with him still； dogging his every step。 His shadow； his fetch； unshakeable。 Gina shrieked at him； 〃You son…of…a…bitch； look at Mandy！ She's lost her mind！〃 No； he mustn't look at Mandy。 If he looked at Mandy he might weep； he might break down as the thing wanted him to； then everything would be lost。
〃She'll be all right；〃 he said； barely above a whisper。 He reached for the front door handle。 The demon bolted the door； quickly； loudly。 No temper left for pretence now。
Jack； keeping his movements as even as possible； unbolted the door； top and bottom。 It bolted again。
It was thrilling； this game； it was also terrifying。 If he pushed too far surely the demon's frustration would override its lessons？
Gently； smoothly； he unbolted the door again。 Just as gently； just as smoothly； the Yattering bolted it。
Jack wondered how long he could keep this up for。 Somehow he had to get outside： he had to coax it over the threshold。 One step was all that the law required； according to his researches。
One simple step。
Unbolted。 Bolted。 Unbolted。 Bolted。
Gina was standing two or three yards behind her father。 She didn't understand what she was seeing； but it was obvious her father was doing battle with someone； or something。
〃Daddy…〃 she began。
〃Shut up；〃 he said benignly； grinning as he unbolted the door for the seventh time。 There was a shiver of lunacy in the grin； it was too wide and too easy。
Inexplicably； she returned the smile。 It was grim； but genuine。 Whatever was at issue here； she loved him。
Polo made a break for the back door。 The demon was three paces ahead of him； scooting through the house like a sprinter； and bolting the door before Jack could even reach the handle。 The key was turned in the lock by invisible hands； then crushed to dust in the air。
Jack feigned a move towards the window beside the back door but the blinds were pulled down and the shutters slammed。 The Yattering； too concerned with the window to watch Jack closely； missed his doubling back through the house。
When it saw the trick that was being played it let out a little screech； and gave chase； almost sliding into Jack on the smoothly…polished floor。 It avoided the collision only by the most balletic of manoeuvres。 That would be fatal indeed： to touch the man in the heat of the moment。
Polo was again at the front door and Gina； wise to her father's strategy； had unbolted it while the Yattering and Jack fought at the back door。 Jack had prayed she'd take the opportunity to open it。 She had。 It stood slightly ajar： The icy air of the crisp afternoon curled its way into the hallway。
Jack covered the last yards to the door in a flash； feeling without hearing the howl of plaint the Yattering loosed as it saw its victim escaping into the outside world。
It was not an ambitious creature。 All it wanted at that moment； beyond any other dream； was to take this human's skull between its palms and make a nonsense of it。 Crush it to smithereens； and pour the hot thought out on to the snow。 To be done with Jack J。 Polo； forever and forever。
Was that so much to ask？
Polo had stepped into the squeaky…fresh snow； his slippers and trouser…bottoms buried in chill。 By the time the fury reached the step Jack was already three or four yards away； marching up the path towards the gate。 Escaping。 Escaping。
The Yattering howled again； forgetting its