I don’t like slugs. Or worms. Slimy things make my skin crawl. I don’t like butter, either. Because it’s slimy.

Di doesn’t like spiders. She says that they make her freak out. It’s probably something to do with all the legs, dozens of clickity-clickity sounds as they power overhead on the ceiling or towards you on your bedside table.

One morning, I came down the stairs from my bedroom and saw something a bit odd. There was a stack of towels jammed up against the foot of Di’s door. When I rounded the staircase, I saw a piece of paper stuck to the kitchen door. It said:

Joan

I am staying at Phil’s because I saw a huge spider. It was this big:

Di had drawn a circle bigger than my fist. Now, that’s a big spider.

In the days following, Di, Phil and Ashley killed two giant spiders downstairs. Their weapon was the broom. They found one behind the fridge and another near the bathroom.

Thank goodness we haven’t been infested by slugs. I am shuddering just think of it.