When Emily was about five, I often visited Wells and Margaret, played with the kids and stayed a bit after they went to bed. After a beer or two or three, it was time to leave. I went to get my shoes, but one was missing. We scoured the house, blaming the dog, the cat, my bad memory – but couldn’t find the shoe. Finally, we were forced to wake up the kids to see if they knew where it was. Emily knew. She had taken it and hid it under her bed.