“Nice to know you care!” he said sarcastically.

“Oh don’t be like that,” said Mrs Robertson, “You know you look delicious.”

“Sorry,” said Stefan, instinctively reacting as he would have reacted to her when he had been her normal sized student.

“It’s alright,” she said, smiling without turning her head, “I can’t expect much enthusiasm from you.”

When Mrs Robertson and Stefan reached Lapstone, the Great Western Highway began to curve in an uphill way, with tall trees presenting a view on both sides of the road.

Then they passed Glenbrook, and a few other suburbs, as Valley Heights drew nearer.

“How far up do you think we should go?” asked Mrs Robertson.

The question surprised him. It was the first time since she had ‘met’ his tiny self that she had sought his opinion on anything. Since he was acutely aware of her control of the situation, he presumed that she was only asking as a matter of inquiring about his personal taste.

“Medlow Bath is nice,” he said.

“It is, but there could be a fair few tourists and holiday makers around. We don’t want to be disturbed, do we?”

“No, I guess not,” said Stefan.

“Blackheath has a marvellous isolated lookout, which we can get to from a track that goes around the high school and then off into the Kanimbla Valley. Would you find that a scenic place to be eaten?”

“I imagine it would. Those escarpments would even be large from your perspective.”

“You certainly know Australian geography well,” she said, “I imagine you got around in a spaceship or some other way before I caught you.”

Stefan had an idea to delay her in the hopes of escape.

“I’ve never been past Mount Victoria though,” he said, “Maybe we could find a nice spot between there and Lithgow.”

“It dips a lot after Mount Victoria,” said Mrs Robertson, “Are you really interested, or are you just hoping to gain time?”

It was no use.

“I guess we could go to Blackheath,” he said.

Mrs Robertson drove into Blackheath, turned left at the rail crossing, and made her way over the line and into the back streets, until she came to a large school that looked out onto the expansive valley. She stopped the car and turned her head to smile at him.

“We’re here,” she said.

She put him on the dashboard, while she collected a picnic basket from the boot of the car, and then set him on top of the uppermost item: a folded rug. Then she began walking around the school and along a path. He looked up at her hair flowing in the occasional slight breeze, and couldn’t help admiring her carefree confidence.

Her hair had been neatly brushed. Her clothes were elegant indeed for a picnic. Her strides were graceful. One of her hands was curled around the handles of the picnic basket, which carried him, and the other swayed by her side as she walked.

She certainly knew how to eat a boy in style.