'Look, I really don't want any lemonade,' Max said, holding up his hands. 'I just want to know what the hell is going on here?'
Pam formed a little O shape with her mouth in disbelief, and Peter frowned at him. 'I'd rather you didn't use such language,' Peter said sternly.
Barbara giggled and nudged Pam, who giggled too at their own private joke. Max rolled his eyes. Girls weren't any different, even a million years ago dressed in pinafores and horrifing white ankle socks.
'Do have a ginger buiscuit,' pleaded Janet. 'I baked them myself.'
Max could never resist a girl with huge puppy-dog eyes, so he took a buiscuit and crunched into it hungrily, showering crumbs down his Soul Cal polo.
When he moved to brush the crumbs onto the floor, he noticed Colin eyeing his clothes with raised eyebrows.
'Do you want to borrow some of my jumpers?' Asked Peter, who evidently had also been assesing his fashion sense. 'You can come up to the house if you like.'
Max shrugged, and everyone took it as a yes and began standing up and chattering merrily.
Peter held open the door of the shed, chest puffed out importantly so everyone could see his shiny green badge with the letters S S written on it.
The children filed out, and Peter turned and locked the door. When he turned round, his mouth fell open in amazement.