I should explain something.

For five stories now, I have watched from walls and garden gates. I have noticed things. I have told you what others missed. I have, in my own quiet way, kept the record straight.

I have never once said a word to anyone in Willowburrow.

Until today.

The village had gathered on the green for the Annual Willowburrow Fete. Mrs Partridge had arranged the bunting. Tabitha had brought three tiers of lemon cake. Constable Badger stood at the entrance with his notebook open, which he considered good fete management. Pip and Whisker Ferret had arrived wearing hats. Nobody had given them hats. This is simply what ferrets do.

Everything was going well.

Then the lemon cake disappeared. All three tiers. Gone from the table in a moment, leaving nothing but a plate of icing sugar and one confused bee.

Robin had footage.

"BREAKING," he announced, already airborne. "Fete SABOTAGED. Cake STOLEN. Ferrets seen in vicinity. I have video. More soon."

Constable Badger turned to the ferrets.

"We didn't touch it," said Pip.

"Not even a crumb," said Whisker.

Constable Badger's pen moved towards his notebook.

I had been watching from under the apple tree. I had seen what Robin's camera missed: something dark and low, moving behind the cake table just before the disappearance. Then moving back along the hedge, towards the old wall.

I looked at the ferrets. I looked at Badger's pen.

And for the first time in five stories, I walked forward.

"Constable," I said.

Everyone looked at me.