The leading policeman stopped and stood stiffly; his eyes pulsating purple in the ultra-violet light. He stared with suspicion at the unearthly lamp standing on a white sheet in the middle of the field. Then he stared with distaste at the rattly, throbbing generator. But his mouth opened with disbelief when he saw the crowd of eight-to-ten year old beer-stained children.

Rebecca stopped painting the gooey mixture of beer and treacle onto the tree-trunk and giggled.

"There Kirsty!" she called to her best friend. "What did I tell you would happen? A policeman has turned up...no two!" She dropped her brush into the sticky plastic pot, licked her fingers and grinned with satisfaction.

"It's not my fault," Kirsty replied with some alarm. "I told my dad to let them know what we were up to."

"Come on!" cried Rebecca. "Let's get nearer. I can't wait to hear him explain this lot away."

Everyone else had stopped chasing around and trying to scare each other by shining torches on their faces and pulling Dracula impersonations. They were watching with interest to see if Mr Macdowell was going to be arrested.

Kirsty's dad was coming across to meet the policemen. His face showed a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. "Err...hallo," he faltered. "Have you come to...err...join us?"

"Are you responsible for this...this...?" The officer seemed to be having difficulty finding words polite enough to use in front of so many children, and Rebecca had to put a hand over her mouth to smother another giggle.

"Are you aware that our phones have been swamped with calls from people claiming to have seen men from Mars, women from Venus and dogs from Pluto?" the officer continued tersely.

"I'm terribly sorry," Kirsty's dad said guiltily. "I didn't warn the Police as I thought this field was too far from the town to disturb anyone. You see, I run a science club for local children and this is our moth hunt."

"Except that we haven't seen a moth all evening," Rebecca whispered to Kirsty. "Still, this is much more fun."

"I suppose you've got permission to be here sir?" the policeman asked suspiciously.

"Oh yes."

The officer was disappointed. "Pity. So this pile of claptrap is supposed to attract moths, is it?"

"Yes, except that we haven't...."

"Next time you go apprehending innocent insects, perhaps you'd be sensible enough to warn us first."

The second policeman glared at Kirsty's dad. "Don't you work at the observatory?"

"Err...yes."

Then you of all people should be more careful. You know the fuss there's been here about UFOs."

The first policeman turned to go. "You make sure this rabble gets home safely. If we have to turn out in the middle of tonight's gangster film to search for a lost kid, you're for it!"

The two policemen strode back through the eerie light and disappeared along the rough track that led to the road. A hubbub of excited chatter broke out and Mr Macdowell tried to hide his embarrassment by checking to see if any moths had turned up.

Rebecca followed him eagerly. She was really enjoying this evening. Best of all, she knew it would end by going back with the Macdowells, to stay at their bungalow in the observatory grounds for five whole days.

"Look! A moth at last!" She pointed to a tiny, fluttering object as it crash-landed onto the sheet.

Kirsty came running up. "Huh! Moths don't come any smaller than that. Not much for a whole evening's wait, is it?"

Mr Macdowell lunged at the moth with a plastic pot but it dodged aside and spiralled up into the trees. "Time to pack up," he called loudly, as the first car came bumping along the track to collect the children.

"Typical!" Rebecca grumbled to herself. "Just when the moths start coming, we have to go."

Mr Macdowell turned to Kirsty. "Go and find Dean before he wanders off. I'll die with embarrassment if I have to call out those policemen to find my own son."

Kirsty grimaced and Rebecca felt sorry for her. It must be a real nuisance to be stuck with a younger brother. She helped Mr Macdowell collect up the sticky pots that had held his moth attracting syrup. More cars arrived, and the club members raced about, pretending to be ghosts.

"I've got him!" yelled Kirsty as she came back dragging a grubby eight-year-old. "Wait till you see his face. He's got syrup all over it." Dean looked down guiltily and said nothing.

"You weren't supposed to drink it," laughed his father. "Good job those policemen didn't catch you." "Ugh! His jeans are covered in mud," Kirsty said with disgust. "Mum isn't half going to moan."

"Fell in a ditch, didn't I?" Dean mumbled sulkily. "Wasn't my fault. Somebody pushed me. Wouldn't surprise me if it was you."

"Here comes your mum's car," Rebecca cried excitedly. "I've been looking forward to this week for ages."

"Don't forget your suitcase," Mr Macdowell reminded her. "Your mother left it under that tree when she brought you. Shan't be long...just got to disconnect the light."

Rebecca found her suitcase as other children shouted their thanks and goodbyes. Car doors slammed and headlight beams waved wildly as a procession of cars bumped back along the track.

"You're not sitting in my new car like that," Mrs Macdowell insisted when she saw Dean. "I've got some plastic bags in the boot. Wait until I've spread them on the seat. Where's Rebecca? Oh...there you are my dear. I'm sorry, but you'll have to sit next to Dean. Try not to lean on him."

Rebecca wriggled in between Kirsty and Dean. You'd think Kirsty would sit next to her muddy brother, she thought. Instead of making the guest do it.

"Where's your father?" Mrs Macdowell grumbled to Kirsty. "I wish he'd hurry up."

"Here he comes," said Kirsty. "He went to get the lamp."

"What's happening to the generator?" Dean spoke up suddenly.

"It belongs to the farmer," said Kirsty. "He's coming for it later."

"Thank goodness!" said her mother. "We'd never get that monstrous thing in the boot."

One of Rebecca's favourite games was imagining ridiculous scenes from the things that other people said. She smiled as her mind saw the Macdowell's posh new car being munched up whole by a gigantic, rogue generator...with Dean still inside.

"Guess what Dad's done wrong this time," Kirsty gloated as her father slammed the boot and came round to the front passenger seat. "He didn't bother to tell the Police about the moth hunt and a lot of nutters thought we were invaders from Mars."

"Blabbermouth!" whispered Dean and he leaned across Rebecca and poked his sister in the side.

"Don't exaggerate dear!" said Mrs Macdowell. "I'm sure your dad wasn't that careless."

"But he was! Didn't you see those two...?"

"Watch out!" cried Mr Macdowell as his wife started to drive off. "There's a crowd of people running towards us."

Rebecca craned her head sideways to peer through the windscreen. She gasped with surprise as the silhouette of a short man in a floppy hat charged out of the gloom and shouted at Mr Macdowell.

"Quick! We're the Bramford UFO Spotter's Club. The spacecraft that's landed here...have you seen it?"

"Yes!" said Mr Macdowell. "It came down near those trees. Just wait till you see it, it's out of this world."

"Terrific! Fantastic!" cried the silhouette. "At last! An actual landing! Come on everyone! Let's get over there before it takes off again."

The UFO watchers ran into the moth hunt field and probed everywhere with their torches.

"Duncan!" exclaimed his wife in a shocked voice. "How could you?" "Serves them right!" Mr Macdowell said with a chuckle as the car moved forward again. "Anyway, I was nearly telling the truth. We did see UFMs...unidentified flying moths."

"UFM, not UFMs," Kirsty corrected curtly. "We only saw one."

Rebecca settled back happily. She could tell that her long-awaited stay with the Macdowells was going to be anything but disappointing.

The observatory was two miles away and Rebecca and Kirsty passed the time by chatting through the many things they were going to do together. Rebecca caught a glimpse of the observatory lights before the car turned into the single track road that led to the Macdowell's bungalow.

Rebecca loved that bungalow. How she wished she lived there, instead of the boring, poky, hemmed-in house her dad had bought from the Council. She caught a glimpse of decorative iron railings and wooden fretwork veranda, before they stopped and the headlights went out.

"In you come," Mrs Macdowell said kindly. "I'll have supper ready as soon as I've bathed Dean."

As Rebecca staggered along the path with her suitcase, she passed a tall, bronze statue of Neptune standing in the pond. His trident was raised as if he was trying to spear a Koi carp.

"Silly great thing, isn't it?" said Kirsty. "That's what comes of living in a place built by a sculptor. Dad says it's probably worth thousands. He thinks it's still here because it's too heavy to pinch. I think nobody's bothered because it's too ugly."

"I think it's marvellous," Rebecca disagreed. "I only wish...."

"Kirsty!" her mum's voice called from the hallway. "Show Rebecca to her room please dear."

"You've got the attic room, lucky devil," said Kirsty as she led the way to an iron spiral staircase in the corner of the hall. "It beats me why everyone calls this place a bungalow when it's got an upstairs."

"Turn the telly on will you Duncan?" said Mrs Macdowell as she came into the sitting room with a trayload of crisps, cheeses and biscuits. "I want to see the weather forecast."

So did Rebecca. She was hoping hard for a sunny day tomorrow, so that she could explore the acres of observatory grounds. Kirsty had promised to show her Dean's den. She didn't know what this was, except that it was very special.

"...The fire took two hours to bring under control," the local television newscaster said as he finished a report.

"Someone's school's burnt down." Dean cried enviously. "Lucky devils!"

"There have been two more UFO sightings in the Bramford area," the newscaster continued with the trace of a grin. "The first sent members of the town's newly formed UFO Spotter's Club rushing to a field, where after a long search they found nothing more than an abandoned generator. Later that evening, the Police were called to the field, following an incident between club members and a farmer with a shotgun. The second sighting was even more startling. Over now to our reporter, Ann Thomas."

Mr Macdowell roared with delight. "Ha ha! Silly fools!" "Shush Dad!" cried Kirsty. "This bit sounds good."

She grabbed the remote control and turned up the sound as the camera showed three teenage boys being interviewed in the middle of a meadow.

"There's Peter Adams," said Rebecca. "He lives in our road." "...Can you tell the viewers what happened?" the reporter was asking.

"We were only doing it for a laugh...'cos there's been all this fuss around here," said a tall youth with short red hair and a large gold earring. "We couldn't make corn circles like we did last year 'cos it's only March. So we settled for making flying saucer shaped scorch-marks with a blowlamp."

"Pete here had got half way round a circle," a second youth joined in. "When this great silver rocket with flashing laser things comes down right beside us."

"Goodness!" exclaimed the interviewer. "What happened next?"

"This horrible, slimy purple thing gets out. Boy! Was it ugly! And did it pong! It opened this mouth on top of its head and asked us if we were signalling to it. When Pete said no, it got back in its rocket and took off."

The interviewer spluttered with laughter. Then she looked at the camera and tried to straighten her face. "So there you are. Yet another UFO story from Bramford. But what if this isn't just a hoax? After all, we still have a day to go before April the first. Many people around here say that the trouble only started when the new observatory opened. An observatory designed for the sole purpose of contacting aliens from outer space. Back now to the studio."

"Oh no!" groaned Mr Macdowell as the weather map flashed onto the screen. "There'll be another gang of reporters here tomorrow, asking our Director idiot questions. When will people understand that we're a part of the big international search for intelligent signals from space? Even if we were to find something, the distances are so enormous, we couldn't even answer, let alone invite the senders to pop over and doodle in our crops."

"Never mind dear," consoled his wife. "At least they showed it as the silly story at the end of the news."

"I think you're really lucky to live in such an exciting place," said Rebecca. "I can hardly wait to explore it properly."

© Ron Karley