"What the hell is this?" asked the boy in black, staring in revulsion at the plate that had just been set down in front of him.

"Burnywood's finest," said the careworker in an uninterested monotone.

"Steak?" the boy queried incredulously. He glanced at the hunk of screaming pink flesh. "But you know I'm vegetarian. Have you gone senile, or…?"

"It'll do you the world of good," insisted the careworker.

"That's a yes, then."

"How do you expect to cure this anaemia thing? You need iron, and steak is packed with it. Just eat it; you'll feel better for it, I promise."

"You know what? I don't like your promises. It's not anaemia – I thought we'd been through this. I hope I won't have to make myself clear again."

"You can't just pretend to be a scientist and self-diagnose. This is serious, and if I say it's anaemia, I'm a darn sight more qualified than you to say it's anaemia."

"Yeah, just shut up and eat it," insisted the girl next to him.

"We both know I get more than enough iron, every day," retorted the boy. "If it was anaemia, I'd've known it ages ago. I'm not eating your fucking steak."

"Language!" roared the careworker.

"Fuck your language! I'm SICK of you doing things like this. It's disrespectful – we're people, not animals." The careworker opened his mouth to speak. "Don't say you're doing what's best for me," interjected the boy, before the careworker could talk. "If that's what you truly think, then you don't know what's best for me at all."

"Be quiet! You're making a scene," a girl opposite whined, in between greedily shoving in mouthfuls of her own steak.

"Ugh, you lot as well – you can't do anything except get on my nerves, can you? Well, you know what? I quit. I'm OUT of here!" The boy stormed away from the table and made his way to the doorway of the kitchen.

"OI!" roared the careworker. "I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE, SONNY JIM, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE COMPLETE CONTROL OVER THE CARE SYSTEM! IF I SAY YOU'RE STAYING HERE… YOU'RE STAYING HERE!"

Demon raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And you really believe that, do you?"

He vanished from the room.

THE DUMPING GROUND: RENAISSANCE
Chapter 7: "A Demon at Waterland House"

The two motorbikes cruised back into the garage of Waterland House, staying in sync all the way until they came to a stop. Still sharing the same natural rhythm, the two riders dismounted and took off their helmets.

Ryan smiled at Elektra. "Nice riding."

"Not so bad yourself," returned a beaming Elektra, discarding her blue leather jacket. They laughed.

"That was so cool!" said Ryan. He couldn't help but stare at Elektra's exposed arms and bra strap as she stood in her sleeveless grey top – but he wasn't exactly sure why.

"What, the wheelies? Forgot I could do them, to be honest. It was nice to feel that adrenaline – wind in your hair, tarmac squealing underneath you, know what I'm saying?"

Ryan nodded dumbly, because in truth, he hadn't been listening to what Elektra had said. Although it disgusted him a little to say it… he'd been staring into her eyes. They were almost like green pools that he couldn't resist swimming in. He hadn't paid attention to a single word.

Ugh – what was happening to him?

Surely not… the L word?

And surely not with Elektra?

"Post for you, Chloe," smiled Carmen as she deposited a slim brown envelope in front of Chloe at the breakfast table.

"What is it? What is it?" cooed Aisha. The kids of Waterland House weren't really accustomed to people getting lots of post, so every letter that pinged through the letterbox was like buried treasure to be uncovered.

"It's about a competition she entered," said Ryan, waltzing into the kitchen. Chloe got to work opening the envelope. As Ryan was about to sit down, Elektra entered the room; Ryan, pretending he'd just suddenly realised something important, darted from the kitchen, and the others heard feet pounding up the stairs.

"I won!" Chloe cried. "Oh my goodness, everyone, I actually won!"

"What did you win?" asked Aisha.

"Yeah, what's the prize?" asked Tyler.

Floss interjected, "Is it… edible?"

"Kind of…" explained Chloe. "It was this thing I saw in a magazine – 'cooking with the stars'."

"So what's the prize?"

"Valentina Lovejoy, the chef – she's going to come here and cook with us!"

The Young People broke into a chorus of excited chatter. This was Big News.

"Valentina Lovejoy, off the telly?" checked Tyler.

"That's the one – and she's coming here on Monday."

The Young People were all ecstatic at the exciting news, all apart from one. Floss ran off to her room. She was going to have no part in this.

Demon was stood by an enormous, thick, imposing iron gate. It was a freezing morning, but he would have done anything to be here right now, because it was going to be the start of his path to freedom.

As the minutes ticked by, Demon grew more and more anxious. He checked his phone again – 11:18. She was nearly twenty minutes late. Didn't she know how much this meant to him?

At last, he heard stiletto footsteps approaching the gate, which duly slid open to spit out the woman he'd been waiting for. Dressed in black skinny jeans over her skinny legs and a loose black and white T-shirt, her brown hair pushed into spikes at the top by a striped pink and black scrunchie, his twenty-something social worker looked just as fierce as he remembered her.

"Twenty minutes," Demon tutted. "That's almost a record. Well done." One day she'd be on time for a meeting – although, to be fair, they'd never met at a prison before.

"Cut me some slack!" she protested. "They took ages giving me my gear back." She indicated a black leather drawstring bag. "It'll be the same for you, when you inevitably end up in there one day."

Demon laughed and playfully punched the social worker on the arm. "So what were you actually in for?"

"A very, very minor shoplifting. Just some earrings – thought Chantal'd like them."

"Shit, it's her birthday soon, isn't it? I'll get something next time I'm in town. Does anyone else know about your little prison stay, then?"

"One night, Demon! One night in prison is nothing."

"Yeah, but you're a social worker, Roxy! It doesn't exactly sound brilliant, does it? I can picture the headlines now – 'Social Worker In Shoplifting Scandal'. '55-year-old Roxy Wellard, of Talbot Ward, was found nicking earrings from the mall because she's so cheap.'"

"You cheeky sod!" she laughed. "Anyway, clearly the police don't think what I did was too bad, or they'd have locked me up for longer, I guess. Thanks for picking me up."

"Yeah, well, what I want to talk about is kind of urgent," Demon confessed as they walked, "so I could ideally have done without you getting nicked. Honestly, you'll do anything to delay a meeting."

"Hey, I'm here now! And if you keep this whole prison thing secret, I'm all ears. Can we get chips?"

Hours later, Demon and Roxy sat facing each other over steaming cappuccinos. Roxy was sponging off Caffe Nero's wifi and brandished a chocolate chip muffin like a bomb. A notebook lay in the middle of them, filled with her spidery handwriting.

"What about Icehill?" the social worker asked.

Demon shook his head. "First-degree burns last time I was there."

Roxy nodded as she bit into the muffin, crossing a name off her list in her notebook. "Ok, I get you. There's always Blakely Hall Farm? That's meant to be nice."

"Yeah, I know – I was there for a few weeks. Apart from the fact it smells of manure… I don't go back to places I've left."

"Yeah, but do you see the problem here? You've been… everywhere! According to your file, there are barely any care homes in the North East that you haven't been in." Roxy's voice sounded harsh and almost robotic, but Demon thought it was soothing.

"Really? I can't have gone through them all, can I?"

"Um, yeah! Pretty much. And I doubt many of your old care homes will want you back."

"What do you mean?"

"I've got notes in your file from five or six of them flat-out refusing to have you back."

"Oh… just try some of the ones that won't remember me, then."

Roxy sipped her cappuccino; it left her with a foam moustache. "Hang on! There's one new home here, we could try them… Waterland House. Oh, but wait – I think that's run by the people from another care home. One sec, I'll get it up…" She tapped the relevant page on her phone and quickly scanned the information. Then she looked up at Demon, her mouth wide open in shock. "Oh my god, I wondered what happened to him! Look-" She angled the phone towards him. "-Lead Care Worker: Michael Milligan."

"Mike?" spluttered Demon.

"Afternoon, ladies," said Elektra as she breezed into the office and dumped her bag and coat on a chair in the corner. "And how are we doing today?"

"Not too bad," replied Carmen. "You?"

"Bit tired. Do either of you want a cup of tea?"

"Actually," said Mike, "since you're both here, I do have a bit of news to share with you both… Pull up a chair, then." Carmen and Elektra scrambled to pull up swivel chairs; Mike sat on his desk and addressed the pair of them. "We're getting a new arrival."

"Ooh, exciting!" trilled Carmen. Elektra looked at her oddly, clearly not sharing in the enthusiasm.

"Tomorrow night, in fact. He's coming from Burnywood."

"Burnywood?" spluttered Carmen, her enthusiasm instantly destroyed. "We're taking in a Burnywood kid?!"

"Yes," said Mike. "Carmen, he's not a 'Burnywood kid' – he's just a kid. Anyway, that's not all. It's…"

"What?" asked Elektra.

Mike looked stuck for a minute. "… It's Demon."

Carmen and Elektra reacted to this revelation like a bomb had gone off in the room. Both of them sat forward in their chairs, as their eyes bulged.

"Demon?!" squawked Carmen. "No, you can't! Mike, I don't- I can't… why?"

"Burnywood's not seeming like the best fit for him, so I said we'd take him in."

"Mike, there's a reason he went to Burnywood! Why do you want him back?"

"Because as careworkers, we owe every child a fair chance, and that's what I'm giving him. Anyway, Elektra, you're his friend; this should be nice news for you."

"Yeah… yeah, it is," said Elektra absent-mindedly. "We haven't talked for a while, that's all. But… yeah, it'll be cool." An infectious smile started to spread across her face. "A bit weird, but… yeah, let's give it a go."

Outside the office, Jay, who'd heard the whole thing, crept out from his hiding place under the hallway piano and scampered into the lounge.

"There's a new kid coming tomorrow!" he shouted to the six or seven kids who littered the red sofas and armchairs idly reading magazines or fiddling with consoles.

"Whoa, really?" Rafiq asked excitedly.

"How do you know?" Chloe wondered.

"Mike was talking about it," answered Jay. "I think he's been here before. Carmen and Elektra acted like they knew him."

"Oh, so it's a him," Aisha said mournfully. "That's a shame; I thought I was getting a new friend."

"Aisha, girls can be friends with boys too," Tyler pointed out from his armchair.

"Like you and Jody?" joked Chloe.

Tyler ignored that. "Anyway – Jay, if it's someone who's been here before, we might know them. Who is it?"

"Demon."

Tyler nearly fell off his chair; everyone noticed.

"Tyler! Are you okay?" asked Chloe.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Why did you fall off?" inquired Rafiq. "Is it something to do with the new boy – do you know him?"

"Do I know him. Oh Rafiq, I don't think you realise the trouble we're in."

Elektra locked the door of the careworkers' bathroom, put her set of clean clothes on the floor and sat on top of the closed toilet. She needed some thinking time.

She looked at the mud caking her shins – yeah, it was pretty cool being paid to go out riding her motorbike (apparently it counted as an 'enrichment activity' for Ryan), but not on as rainy a day as this! Still, at least Ryan seemed to enjoy it.

And there was the problem.

Ryan.

Why, why, why was she feeling this way? What was she even feeling? Love? She didn't even know. All she knew was that she stared into his eyes and got a funny feeling in her tummy.

She loved going riding with him. They had the best times ever, and always came back with smiles on their faces. But how did she make the leap from that innocuous enough activity to love? He was handsome, sure, and their personalities melded perfectly, but that wasn't enough to explain what she felt. Sharing personality traits is a feature of good friendship – but she knew it was something more than friendship that she was craving.

Love, then?

She didn't want to admit it. It felt dirty. Was it even legal? For a careworker to be in a relationship with one of their Young People? Probably not. But, after all, Ryan was 17 now – old enough to make up his own mind. And if Elektra was reading the signs right, Ryan wanted it too.

Ugh!

Why was this sort of thing so bloody difficult?

Later that day, Elektra found herself dusting the surfaces in the living room. The only other person in the room was Chloe, and she'd been staring into space for a good few minutes now. Elektra was going to have to say something.

"Are… you… okay?" she asked pointedly

"Oh, yeah, yeah. It's just… no, it doesn't matter."

"What?" laughed Elektra. "I'm sure it does matter. You can always talk to me if you want to, you know?"

"Okay, it's Ryan. I was just thinking about how… I'm not sure, how much happier he is? Something's up with him, it must be."

"Well, that's what I'm thinking. Ryan – happy?" asked Elektra incredulously, prompting a snigger from Chloe.

"But he is! He seems happy – unusually happy, that is."

"Oh god, I hope he's not up to anything."

"No, I can tell when he's up to something. Sisters just know. No, it's like something's changed, or something's come into his life, that wasn't there before. And it's just… made him… happy."

"Well I'm glad he's happy. That's kind of what we want you lot to be. And, if Ryan's happy, then the rest of us are safe from his… meddling."

Chloe laughed and went on her way. Elektra returned to her dusting, with a small, secretive smile on her face; there'd been a positive change in Ryan's life, and she could easily guess what – or who – that was…

The big grandfather clock in the hall feebly chimed 3 o'clock. 3 in the morning, that is. According to several countries' folklore, 3am is known as the witching hour. Waterland House was about to discover some truth in that superstition.

There came a rain of frantic knocks on the front door. Euan, the night manager for that shift, groggily pulled on a dressing gown and lumbered to the front door. He retrieved the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock.

Ah, the dodgy key! It jammed and Euan pulled it out, tried again, fought the key's resistance in the lock, pushed it until it dug an imprint in his thumb – round, round, just a tiny bit more…

The door snapped open –

nearly flew off its hinges with the force –

the bang made Euan jump –

Mike and a twenty-something Goth-styled social worker Euan didn't recognise burst through the door –

they each supported one arm of a lanky figure in black slumped between them –

his legs trailed uselessly along the carpet as Mike and the woman raced to the stairs –

Mike hurriedly, loudly, whispered "Car's open – can you get his bags?" –

Euan darted outside –

Mike and Roxy dragged the boy up the stairs –

"Ring 999 the second we get him to the bed," Mike urged –

They rounded the corner on the stairs and lurched onto the landing –

Euan returned and they'd gone.

"Tyler said he was the most badly-behaved kid in the whole of the Dumping Ground," reported Rafiq.

"I think he used the word 'evil'," added Floss.

"Apparently he actually went to secure for more than a day," Jay said, sticking his tongue out at a scowling Sasha.

"So he's worse than Ryan?" checked Aisha.

"Oh yeah, much worse," Tyler replied, coming into the kitchen and getting a bowl out from the cupboard. "Morning, guys."

He had barely poured his cereal before a barrage of questions came, one at a time from each child – like it was an organised interrogation.

"Is it true that he ran away all the time?"

"Well, yeah, all the time. Whenever he wanted, really. It seemed like he didn't really want to be here."

"So why d'you think he's coming back?"

"Maybe he had no other options. I mean, he's been in nearly every care home there is. They all keep sending him back, like they can't handle him anymore."

"Sounds like literally dozens of people at my old care homes," commented Ryan, pretending to yawn.

"No. If you think you're ready for him: you're not. If you think he'll be like anything you've seen before: you're wrong. He's relentless."

"Is he… mean?"

"Hmm, difficult one. If you get on his bad side, you better run. Otherwise you might be alright."

"Yeah, but will he prank me when I'm trying to, I don't know, go about my daily life like a normal person with human rights?"

"Nah, I'm still the king of pranks. I don't think he's into that kind of thing."

"How do you get on his good side?"

"Joseph, if I'd cracked that one, I wouldn't be sitting here dreading him coming. Stay out of his way, that's my advice."

"I hope that's not my friend you're talking about," Elektra said, coming into the kitchen from the laundry room adjacent. She made the word 'friend' stick out like a sharpened dagger.

"You're his friend?" scoffed Floss.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that," Tyler admitted sheepishly.

"How would you lot feel," asked Elektra, "if it was your first day and everyone was spreading rumours about you, before you even met everyone?"

"It's not his first day, though," pointed out Tyler. "His first day was the one where he pushed Tee over as soon as he met her, covered Johnny in orange juice, and then escaped."

"That was years ago! He's grown up now! Seriously, guys, don't take everything Tyler says at face value – he wasn't even here for Demon's first day. I was. Yes, he takes some getting used to, but he's not half as bad as Tyler's making him out to be."

Aisha loudly sighed, relieved at what Elektra had told her. Some of the other kids laughed at that.

"Where is he, then? I thought he was coming really early. It's nine already," asked Jay.

"Yeah, when we said 'really early', we meant reeeeaaallllly early," said Carmen. "He got here in the night, but he's… not going to be around today, I don't think. As you can probably imagine, he needs his sleep. And so does Mike, who was up until three in the morning waiting for him."

"But today's the day when Valentina Lovejoy off the telly's coming," noted Chloe excitedly. "Won't Mike want to be around for that?"

"Yes, he will!" cried Mike, striding in the kitchen with a spring in his step and a big white chef's hat perched on his head. The kids laughed – somebody was keen.

A rap on the door.

"She's here!" called Chloe, her eyes widening with anticipation. She wheeled herself towards the door, and felt a whoosh going past her. It was Bird and Mike, racing each other to be the one to open the door. They reached the handle at the same time, yanked it down, and… just stood there. Transfixed, their eyes nearly popping out of their skulls.

Valentina Lovejoy was known for her looks as much as she was for her cooking; today, her mahogany locks were left flowing to just below her shoulders, her curves were encased in a light red frock under an expensive-looking leather coat, and her luscious chocolate-brown eyes were lethal weapons with powers of hypnotism.

"Good morning, Miss Lovejoy!" Mike simpered, instantly under her spell. "It's-it's a pleasure to meet you." He stuck out a hand for her to shake, but she pulled him into a hug, which he enthusiastically fell into – he could hardly believe his luck.

Determined not to be beaten, Bird asked, just a little too forcefully, "Can I make you a cup of tea, Miss Lovejoy?"

"Valentina, please – I've no time for formalities," smiled the chef, speaking in a rich, velvety Southern drawl. "And yes, my love, that'd be divine." Bird scampered off to the kitchen, whilst Mike fumbled about putting Valentina's coat on the coat-stand.

"And you must be Chloe," Valentina addressed the girl.

"Yes," smiled Chloe. "It's amazing to meet you!"

"No, no, it's amazing to meet you, darling – I loved the sponge-cake recipe you sent in. So innovative – simple yet… delicious."

"You mean you actually tried it?"

"Tried it and loved it," said Valentina, as they crossed to the kitchen. "Right, we might as well start cooking now, if you'd like that; we've got a lot to do."

"Yeah, that's fine. I think a few of the others wanted to join in – is that okay?"

"The more the merrier, my sweet."

They turned into the kitchen, to find Rafiq, Joseph, Ryan, Tyler, Jay, Mike and Bird all waiting, sporting an odd array of assorted aprons and chefs' hats, Bird brandishing his cup of tea like an engagement ring. All the male members of the house. What a coincidence. Chloe glared at them as she entered.

"Morning, boys!" smiled Valentina. "Who's ready to get something divine, succulent, hot and filling inside them? I know I am!"

… um.

Chloe looked puzzled for a moment, whilst all the boys merely melted in her gaze. "It's a gorgeous pasta dish, and if it goes well enough, it's our lunch!"

"Sounds brilliant," enthused Jay.

"You've got a bit of dribble," remarked Bird.

"Oh yeah, and look who's talking," hissed Chloe, mildly unhappy at the boys taking over her day and fighting over Valentina.

"Right, lads, what's the first thing we need?"

"… to wash our hands?" tried Tyler.

"Good start," Valentina patted Tyler on the shoulder and he silently promised himself he'd never change this shirt. "Apart from that, what do we need?"

"A saucepan," declared Chloe, confidently. "They're just in here." She opened the cupboard with the pans in it. Except now it was the cupboard with nothing in it. It was bare – all the pans had vanished! "Um, Mike… you didn't use all the pans for tea last night, did you?"

"No, there should be a few left."

"Well… there isn't."

"No pans? That's not a brilliant start," said Valentina. "How can we cook without pans? I'll have to leave!"

"NO!" shouted all the boys in unison.

"Not to worry," tittered Valentina. "I carry spares in my car. I'll be back in a minute."

In the sanctuary of her room, Floss opened the wardrobe door and pulled a few jumpers off their hangers. Shooting a sideways glance at the door to check it was shut, she ducked down onto her knees and used the jumpers to cover the pans at the bottom of the wardrobe.

After all, they had to stay well-hidden. And she had to make Valentina go home – but how? Just stealing pans wouldn't be enough (she was famous for keeping spares in her car), so what could- ah. An idea. Yes, that might work.

Floss shut the wardrobe and crept out of her room and down the stairs. She took a deep breath, ready to enact her grand masterplan, and tiptoed into the kitchen-

"Hello there, little miss," came Valentina's velvet voice, shot at Floss like a missile.

The plan would have to wait. Floss squealed, and ran back out of the kitchen.

"Is this definitely a good idea? Mike did say he needed sleep – maybe we should leave him alone?" asked Aisha.

"He has to eat!" reasoned Rafiq, spearheading a group of kids who had gathered beside Demon's bedroom door. Lunchtime had been and gone, and he still hadn't surfaced. Rafiq and his sister, Sasha, Joseph, Jody and a curious Ryan had decided, therefore, to bring him some food – and do some prying while they were at.

"Okay, let's go," Joseph decided, and Rafiq pushed the door open.

The kids filed into what had been Charlie's old room; there were already two tins of black paint on the floor by the radiator, sitting on top of a pile of newspaper – clearly the new boy was planning a speedy redecoration.

"I think he's still asleep," said Aisha; Demon, still dressed in a black polo shirt and skinny jeans, was curled up in a ball on the bed, on top of the bed. His messy strands of raven-black hair sprawled out over the pillow.

"Yeah, well done, dumbo," said Jody. "What I want to know is what are those?" She pointed to the bedside table, where there were a multitude of pills of varying shapes and sizes; they had already attracted the attention of Ryan, who was staring at them, trying to divine what they were.

"Shall we take the food away, then?" asked Sasha.

"No, he might want it for when he wakes up," whispered Joseph.

"Shall we look through some of his stuff?" said Ryan. It was all there, looking to Ryan like a chocolate box, still packed into four or five big suitcases and bags, which sat like an immobile army in the middle of the carpet.

"Ryan!" remonstrated Sasha.

"What? I just thought it might give us an idea about who he is. We can see if what Tyler said is true."

"Let's just wait for him to tell us about himself; it's easier that way," advised Jody.

"Yeah, but it's no fun!"

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Joseph. "We don't want to wake him."

"Ah, who cares?" laughed Ryan, purposefully letting his voice grow a little louder. "It's one in the afternoon! We've all been up for hours! Why shouldn't we wake him up?"

The boy in the bed suddenly sat up bolt upright, and howled: "BECAUSE YOU NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING DRAGON! GET OUT!"

The kids all ran, terrified, from the room, and slammed the door behind them.

"You're not half bad at this," Valentina complimented Bird. "Of course, our Chloe here is a natural" – Chloe beamed – "but that isn't to say you aren't talented, too… Bird, was it?"

"Yeah," blushed Bird.

"Such an unusual name; I love it." Bird blushed all over again. "Do you cook a lot in your spare time, Bird?"

"Oh, all the time," lied the boy who still hadn't mastered beans on toast. "Yeah, there isn't a day goes by when I haven't got a dish on the go."

"That's brilliant to hear," enthused Valentina. "These days, there are so many kids your age who just don't care for cooking. It's an art. It's beautiful. It's the communion of body with food; the sustenance isn't so much the meal you produce at the end, it's the sustenance of the body. Feeling the ingredients in your hands… kneading the dough with the most delicate touch your hands can muster. Hearing the fizz and the pop, smelling the salty and the tangy, seeing the sizzle and the melting, tasting the sweet heaven at the climax of the whole process. It's so… sensual… … … Can you pass the sugar, please?"

The answer was no. Bird looked like he very much needed an immediate lie down. Chloe passed over the handily labelled sugar jar. Just to make certain, Valentina licked a pinkie and dipped it in. She grimaced.

"No, no, that's SALT!"

"It's sugar. It says so on the jar."

"Well, someone's messing me around. And I won't stand for it!"

"Valentina, it's okay-"

"No, it isn't! Twice this has happened to me today. I haven't come here to be the victim of cruel pranks. I came here to cook! And there's been precious little of that! Chloe, it's been a pleasure to meet you, but I can't work in these conditions. I'm out!"

She turned on her heels and left the kitchen.

How dare they come into his room without permission? How dare they snoop about with his stuff? He didn't know who they were, but he didn't like them.

Demon cautiously opened his door, stuck his head out into the corridor and, checking the coast was clear, tiptoed down the stairs. He wasn't too sure about this new house – but, he supposed, nothing's as good as it was when you were a kid.

He looked like a panther, dressed all in black, as he prowled down to the bottom of the stairs, his sights firmly on the office, where the mother of all complaints was about to be made to Mike.

The second his foot touched the carpet, a young girl of seven or so appeared, dressed in orange with a shiny black bob – he recognised her from earlier.

"Hello," the girl said cautiously. "We're sorry for being in your room earlier." Demon merely stared at her.

He heard frantic footsteps on the carpet, and a flurry of children quickly arrived – some younger than him, some older. There was a beaming girl in a wheelchair, and a shock of flaming orange hair attached to a girl, and a small boy in a hideously scratchy-looking brown jumper, and Tyler – the only face he recognised. They seemingly came from all around – from upstairs, from the kitchen, from out of the floorboards for all he knew, but they were everywhere. All around him, on all sides – suffocating him.

And the questions they were asking. "Is it true you were at Burnywood?" and "why have you come back?" he was feeling it again and "why weren't we allowed to see you?" and "is it true what Tyler said?" no, not again, not in front of them all and "will you be my friend?" and "did you eat the food we brought?" on his first day back as well and "do you want to meet Valentina?" he couldn't take it any longer and "who are you?" and "hello!" and "hello!" he couldn't breathe and "hello!" and "hello!" he couldn't BREATHE and "hello!" and "hello!" and "hello!" and

Demon collapsed like a detonating building. He sank to the ground and smashed his head on the floor.

Once again, Floss found herself tiptoeing to the kitchen with sabotage on her mind. After all she'd done, Valentina hadn't left yet! Mike and Bird had apparently convinced her to stay for one more recipe, and so there was some wonderful cake on its way soon.

This was her best idea yet, and frankly, if this wouldn't get Valentina to clear off then nothing would. She was going to steal the knob off the oven. It was flimsy at the best of times, and Mike kept saying he was going to get it fixed, so this was her chance. Everyone would think it had just… fallen off? Without it, there'd be no way to control the temperature, no way to start the oven even, if she was lucky. Hmm, she mused as she wandered towards the kitchen, I might take a couple of oven trays as well. Best to be on the safe side.

Like a magpie spying silver, Floss greedily eyed up the oven. There was nobody in the kitchen – the coast was clear – it was time to strike! She pounced on the oven knob, stealing a last furtive glance around the kitchen. And that's when she noticed something was up.

Floss was sure all the cake ingredients had been there on the counter, precisely measured by Valentina and laid out in pretty-patterned porcelain bowls (god knows where they'd come from), like today was another TV shoot and Waterland House another pretend TV kitchen. But now there was nothing there.

… Apart from a small trace of flour dusting the worktop like thin snow. (At least, Floss hoped it was flour – she'd heard rumours about Valentina.) A small trace which became a trail; she saw it snaking across the kitchen floor and out the side door. Intrigued, Sherlock Guppy followed the flour trail as far as she could – out of the kitchen, down the steps, along the side of the house, and (she could just about make out the floor sitting on top of the blades of grass) out into the garden.

Oh. The trail had stopped dead.

She looked up – and was shocked by what she saw.

Forming an enormous mound in the middle of the garden was a big pile of bright flour, encrusted with glistening caster sugar, its white glare broken up by baking powder. Three cracked eggs slid tauntingly down the little hill, with an unbroken egg sitting on top.

What a terrible moment for Mike to arrive.

"FLOSS?" she heard him call from the side door. At the same time – footsteps. Getting nearer. "FLOSS? Valentina's about to make a cake, do you- Oh my goodness."

She knew how terrible this looked. There she was, standing in front of a pile of baking ingredients. For the first time, she realised how easily her customary smile could be misconstrued as gleeful relish.

Valentina tottered into the garden as well. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the sight. "Young lady," she began. "All day, you've been acting oddly! All day, I've been suspicious of you! I knew you were up to no good, but this… I have no words, I really don't."

"Floss, how could you do this?" asked Mike despairingly.

"No, Mike, it wasn't me! It's not- I wasn't- I just… I know what it looks like."

"And so do I, Floss." Floss couldn't mistake the utter disappointment in his voice. "Nice try, but you're grounded. For a month. I mean, do you have any idea of the disruption you've caused? The embarrassment? Valentina is a TV star, and she's had to come here today and suffer so many… setbacks, all because of you. Go to your room."

Choking back a tear, and determined not to show it, Floss ran out of the garden.

Elektra pulled in by the side of the road and walked with her bike a few metres, stopping under a tree. Ryan followed suit, and they both pulled off their helmets.

"Why are we stopping?" asked Ryan, trying his best to hide the smile on his face.

Elektra quickly found that smile infectious. "Becaauuse our hour's almost up. Sorry, but it's home time."

Ryan was amazed. It felt like they'd only been riding for a few minutes. Time flies and all that. He hated it when their rides ended; he just wanted them to go on forever. It was a cliché, sure, but it was just so freeing. And the company wasn't half bad, either.

"Come on then, let's go," he said, but then he noticed the first emerging flecks of drizzle. "Wait – it's raining. Can't we stay under here until it stops?"

"It's barely spitting!" scoffed Elektra. "Anyone would think you wanted to be conveniently stuck under a tree with me."

"Yeah, well, maybe I do!"

She laughed, a little nervous. "What do you mean, Ryan?"

Ryan had never been one to mince his words, but suddenly his most powerful weapon failed him, and his tongue was tied up in knots, his mouth dry and useless. He took a minute, frantically clearing his throat. "Maybe… I want to spend more time with you. A lot more time, I mean."

"Chloe said you've been a lot happier recently," prompted Elektra, trying to help him get to what he wanted to say.

Ryan cleared his throat again – this was something that every bone in his body was ordering him to say. "Yeah, and it's because of you."

Elektra took a deep breath out. He was actually going to say it.

"Elektra, when we're out riding it makes me so happy. So happy – like you'd never understand or believe. And yeah, I love the bike and I love riding it, but it's more than that."

"What is it, then?" asked Elektra, taking a step towards Ryan, who flinched a little – clearly his emotions were wrestling each other, his caution against his impulse, his fear against his heart, and none in particular was winning yet.

"… It's you."

"You don't just mean that you like being my friend, do you?" asked Elektra.

Nervously, Ryan shook his head to agree with her. He fought every impulse in his body and avoided meeting her eyes. Were his eyes watering? He'd never given himself over to somebody like this before.

And that's how he knew he was making the right decision.

"I think…" he breathed, each syllable soaking with anxiety like the raindrop onslaught above. "I think I love you."

And there it was.

Finally, after a pause of at least five hundred years, Ryan's eyes moved downwards. Eventually, they rested on a smiling Elektra. To him, she was like a vision. A perfect angel.

His eyes frantically searched hers for a reply. But it was her lips that replied, cautiously approaching his, seeking approval for what Ryan had always wanted. Their mouths met, and fireworks exploded in their brains.

Floss sat on her bed with her knees tucked up into her chest, a single-file regiment of saucepans next to her, and nothing but shame in her heart. She'd ruined Chloe's day, apart from anything else. She'd thought that she was doing the right thing, but now… now it seemed like maybe she hadn't properly thought about what the right thing was.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Go away!" cried Floss, the exclamation coming out like a sob.

Valentina came in, and sat on the end of the bed, taking care to avoid sitting on the handle of a pan.

"Mike told me you'd say that," she explained. "He told me to come in anyway. I hope you don't mind." Valentina tried to meet Floss' eyes, but the girl was desperately trying to cover up how red they still were. "… Why did you do it, Floss?"

What was the point in denying it now? Floss slowly took her hands away from her eyes; Valentina handed her a tissue. "My mum," Floss said. "She loved you. She was your biggest fan, that's what she always said. I remember we used to make your recipes together – it was like a special weekend treat; we… we went to the supermarket and we bought all the ingredients together, and Mum lifted me up so I could reach everything on the high shelves, and then… we made one of your meals. Just mum and me."

"That's lovely to hear. I'm so… overjoyed I could bring you that experience."

"So am I," sighed Floss wistfully. "But she's not here anymore, and it's not gonna happen anymore. And then you turned up! And I… I didn't want anyone else to have that experience."

"But lots of people make my recipes, all over the world! You can't be annoyed at all of them."

"But not right under my nose, they don't! I just… I was afraid it would remind me of all the good times I can't have anymore. It's silly."

"No – no, Floss, it's not silly at all. I understand it completely. You needed me to leave because you didn't want those memories to come back. But you don't have to hide from your memories! Especially good ones. Memories are wonderful, Floss – they're a permanent imprint of the experiences we've had and the things we've gone through. Even though you might not be able to make those recipes with your mum anymore, I'll bet it wasn't the taste that you liked best – I think it was the time you had with her. And you've always got that memory. Keep it stored in your brain, and bring it out when you're feeling lonely, or left out. That's what it's there for."

"But I did it all wrong. I should have just explained it to you this morning!"

"Well… maybe. But it's a personal thing, and I know why you did it the way you did. I'm so glad my recipes helped you and your mum make those memories, but good memories like those will never leave you. Me being here now won't change that. Have you read Dr Seuss?"

Floss nodded.

"Well, Dr Seuss said something that I've always kept in my heart. It's a little bit cheesy, but I like it: 'don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened'."

Floss smiled. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, honestly. I've had the most… interesting day for quite some time here today, and that's mostly down to you. It's been lovely to meet you."

"One more thing… Valentina, I didn't put the cake ingredients in the garden, I promise you I didn't."

"Do you know, Floss, I believe you wholeheartedly on that one. Before I go… how about one more chance? Does that sound good? I've got time for one more recipe, I reckon, but I'll need an assistant. What do you fancy?"

Floss beamed. "Well, there is something…"

The evening was starting to roll in, and most of the kids were sat around the table in the kitchen, where Floss and Valentina stood next to each other, proudly displaying a small plate almost sagging under the weight of a delicious-looking, shining hunk of millionaire's shortbread. Floss's favourite.

"Are you ready?" Valentina asked her protégé, handing her a fork.

"Aren't you going to try it first? It's your recipe," Floss asked.

"You're the chef! From the looks of things, you timed that caramel perfectly. But, as they say, the proof's in the pudding. Go on, tuck in."

"Try it, try it, try it, try it!" chanted the kids in unison. Floss picked up the fork, cut off a chunk of their millionaire's shortbread, readied herself, and stuffed it in.

It was sweet, crunchy, rich, creamy. It was teamwork, perseverance and hard work. It was everything Floss expected it to be, and more.

It was delicious.

Mike chuckled to himself as he jogged up the stairs. So, Floss was a secret masterchef – who'd have thought it? These kids never stopped surprising him. Speaking of which…

He knocked three times on the door, but got no reply. Anxiously, he opened the door and burst in. Demon was sat on his bed, clad head-to-toe in black and with his black locks tied into a man-bun, clearly engrossed in something he was reading. Actually – what was he reading? As Mike neared, he realised with mild horror that it was a small assortment of the Young People's files. Yellow for history, blue for monitoring, all of them private. Or at least they were supposed to be.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he spluttered.

"Hi Mike," said Demon, not taking his eyes off the page he was reading.

"You know the rules. That kind of thing is not for you to see – the files are private!"

"So's my stuff. So's my life! But they were happily about to root through it earlier, when they thought I was asleep! How's that fair?"

"They were just curious; probably, they just wanted to know a little bit about you before they met you – I hear Tyler hadn't exactly given you the most encouraging biography. I'm sure they didn't mean anything bad by it."

"How am I meant to have a new start if they're not gonna respect the ground rules, though?"

"Forgive me for saying it," Mike said, crossing to the bed and sitting on the end of it, "but you're not exactly respecting the ground rules yourself. Come on, hand them over."

Demon handed the files over without a fuss; Mike noted that most of them were Ryan's. "We didn't really get a chance to talk last night. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Hey, you can't help it. But yeah, this is our first proper meeting again. How've you been?"

"I didn't like Burnywood. Why didn't you take me in?"

"Demon, I would have happily taken you in, you know I would, but when you got out of the secure home, we were moving. Everything was up in the air, everyone was coming and going… I don't even know if the secure home contacted me, but if they did, then I would have been too busy sorting out the move. Please trust me on this."

"Where's May-Li?" Demon said. Mike smiled to himself; when Demon changed the subject like that, it usually meant he was satisfied with the answer. "I haven't seen her today."

"You haven't really seen anyone, today," Mike chuckled. "We need to get you to properly meet everyone. I'd appreciate it if you came for breakfast tomorrow – even if you don't want to eat anything, it'd be nice to meet the others."

"So May-Li is…?"

"Not here, I'm afraid. Moved on. She's doing amazing things in another care home. In fact, I really need to talk to you about that…"

"What?"

Mike sighed. There was no way of dressing this up; he was just going to have to say it. "May-Li's replacements are Carmen and Elektra."

Demon's eyes popped out of his skull. "No! No, that's not- you've made a mistake there."

"They joined in June. I know it's going to be a little awkward at first-"

"-You're telling me. Bloody hell. And how exactly do you expect me to go from stealing Carmen's cornflakes to doing the laundry for her?"

"Whilst we're on the subject of stealing food, I hope you realise that you'll be paying for the cost of those ingredients out of your allowance. And if you play any more stunts like that, I won't be happy."

"Yeah, yeah. Try anything and I'll set Roxy on you," smirked Demon. "Can I meet Elektra?"

"She's gone home. Demon, for once in your life, listen to me. After all the trouble you've put me in over the years, you've got some nerve. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get you out of Burnywood and into Waterland House? You wanted to come here, and now you've got your wish, you need to learn to take the rough with the smooth. If the kids are being a bit nosy – let them be! They're kids! You don't get a life of luxury and you're not above the rest of them. Tomorrow, you're meeting them all properly, and you're going to pull your weight around here and be a proper member of the Waterland House community, okay?"

Demon remained silent.

"OKAY?"

Demon nodded reluctantly. "Thanks for having me. I really missed you."

Mike smiled and stood up, moving to the door. "Demon?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back," Mike confessed. "There weren't nearly enough challenges around here already…"

For those who have concerns about Elektra and Ryan's relationship (which are perfectly valid - I'd find it worrying!), may I refer you to the reviews section, where I have responded to a reader with similar worries.

THIS IS SUCH A LONG CHAPTER! (Sorry/you're welcome).

Behind-the-scenes: for me personally, this was such a fun one to write. Yes, Demon is back! He was the focus of my first two Dumping Ground fanfics and appeared in the other two. Whilst he may have died in the final chapter of my last fic, remember what I said a few chapters ago about creative licence and retconning: in essence, in this story I'm trying to tell the best stories I can with the characters I want to use. I adore writing scenes for Demon (him, Elektra and Mike are my favourites to write for), so I knew from the beginning that he was going to have to return. As you can tell, within this story's continuity he's spent some time in a secure home, followed by a Burnywood stint. As for why, you'll discover that later on...

Other little behind-the-scenes bits: Demon's return was part of the reason why I haven't included the character of Alex in this story - I feel like they're just too similar. Yes, Ryan's and Demon's characters are similar in parts, although I can't wait to explore their dynamic as we go through the rest of the episodes. There is very little reason why Demon's social worker is The Story of Tracy Beaker's Roxy Wellard, and I was heavily debating whether or not to go with it or just have a random social worker instead, but I thought 'why not' and went for it - because why not?! This episode was entitled 'Goetia' until the very last minute, when I realised that 'A Demon at Waterland House' would nicely parallel the title of my first Dumping Ground story, A Demon at Elm Tree House. (Incidentally, 'Goetia' is a Greek word pertaining to rituals which summon (here's the clever bit)... demons). I wrote this chapter from 27 December 2018-12 January 2019.

Research for this story included looking up millionaire's shortbread recipes, Nigella Lawson videos (not that Valentina Lovejoy is a blatant parody...), various ailments and maladies, and youth offender institutes. This was the first episode where I wrote scenes to specific music, to try to create the right mood. For your information, my eclectic mix included the romantic 'Madame de Pompadour' from the Doctor Who soundtrack (Ryan and Elektra's scenes), the bright and breezy 'Neapolitan Girl' by The Divine Comedy (Valentina's entrance), some mournful tracks from Tori Amos' Scarlet's Walk album (Floss and Valentina's penultimate scene), the bold and brassy 'The Scare Floor' from the Monsters Inc soundtrack (the millionaire's shortbread scene) and, for Demon, a selection of 60s and 70s rock - 'Jumpin Jack Flash', 'Nutbush City Limits', 'Immigrant Song' and 'Born To Be Wild'.

Right, I've talked for far too long, so here's your preview for next week:
Ryan begins to ask himself whether a romantic involvement with Elektra is really what he wants. His shiftiness provokes Elektra's paranoia and sparks a catastrophic chain reaction. Elsewhere at Waterland House, the reopening of old wounds threatens the success of the Dumping Ground's special fundraiser - will the kids prevail, and win vouchers for the best toy shop in town? Capitalising on the lively atmosphere of the day, Joseph makes a special announcement, and the Young People become intrigued by a mysterious trail of coins that keeps appearing in the house.
Episode 8, "Don't Shop 'Til You Get Enough", is coming next Friday (8 March).