It was Roger who spoke first.

"How do you know he betrayed us?" he said.

Charlie looked up at Roger wearily.

"How do you know he wasn't captured?" he continued.

Eric and Sam murmured in quiet agreement.

"No!" said Charlie sternly. He glanced at Anna. He knew at least that she believed him. "If he had wanted to run, he could have. He didn't run because he didn't want to. He betrayed us, you numbskulls! Can't you see that?"

Roger glared icily at Charlie, then started grumbling to himself. The other two just scowled quietly at the back. Charlie knew that none of them wanted to believe it. He didn't want to believe it himself. But he knew what he had seen and he had no doubts. Des, for whatever reason, had betrayed them.

They continued walking, though soon Anna began to drift. She was at the back anyway and seemed unable to keep up. Charlie ignored her and continued to set the pace but the others all slowed with her so he turned and waited with a scowl.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Anna was frowning. She always frowned when she was thinking hard.

"Charlie," she said slowly. "Where did you and Des go for lunch?"

He shrugged. "Home," he said gruffly.

It took only a second for it to sink in. For a moment the whole world just seemed to spin around him, and then he started running, leaving the others far behind. They stood bewildered and puzzled for a short while then Anna began to chase.

"Charlie!" she cried.

But Charlie did not hear. Though his lungs burned and his muscles ached he did not stop. He was exhausted yet he found just enough energy to make it home. He rounded the corner into his road so fast he skidded and almost fell over.

Anna caught up, but balked at the sight of the big, black car parked outside Charlie's house. Charlie just kept on running. He ran past the car. He ran through the gate. He ran right up to the front door and did not stop until he was touching it. He began hammering on it with his fists.

"Mum!" he hollered. "Mum!"

As he beat upon the door, it suddenly opened. Des was standing there. Charlie was livid. He leapt through the doorway and went for Des's throat with an angry shriek. Bashing Des to the ground he thundered past, going for the living room door.

Before he even reached the door, it opened and someone stepped out.

"Charlie, what on earth is going on out here?"

It was his mum.

"Mum!" he cried, throwing his arms around her. "You're okay!"

She sighed quietly.

"Charlie," she said softly. "I think you should come in and meet Mr Strang."

She stepped out of the way and Charlie could now see clearly into the living room. He froze in fright. There, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, was the strange man. He had not yet noticed Charlie. He was just sitting there, sipping slowly from a cup of tea.

"B-b-but..." Charlie stammered.

The strange man spotted him and smiled.

"Hello, Charlie," he said, lowering his cup.

He had a soft, melodic voice like Charlie's dad.

"Go on, Charlie," said his mum. She was whispering in his ear.

Just then Anna and the boys burst through the front door.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Mrs Kemp was alarmed by this intrusion. She ushered them all into the kitchen before her and then closed the door behind. Charlie couldn't quite believe it. His mum had left him alone with the strange man.

"Don't be scared, Charlie," said the strange man. "There's no reason to be."

Charlie wasn't going to take his word for it and stayed where he was.

"Please," the strange man urged. "Come and sit down."

Charlie didn't even shake his head. He just glowered at the man.

"Okay," said the stranger uneasily. "Okay."

With that, he set his teacup down on the coaster Charlie's mum had provided and stood up. He took one step forward and Charlie took one step back. However, the strange man came no closer. He was just unbuttoning that long, black coat he always wore.

"I've got something to show you," he said in a low voice.

Charlie watched, his heart beating, his throat tight, as the strange man slid the coat from his shoulders and then draped it over the edge of the sofa. Taking a deep breath, he took another step forward, into the middle of the room. Then, closing his eyes nervously, he started to turn slowly on the spot.

In an instant, everything became as clear as crystal, but Charlie could do nothing but stare. His mouth dropped open in shock. His eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't quite believe it, yet now it all made sense.

The strange man had a tail...

"W... wh..." Charlie managed before a stutter got the better of him.

The strange man looked over his shoulder at Charlie and smiled. His tail was covered in shaggy brown fur like an Alsatian's, but it was not as long as Charlie's was. As Charlie stared, the tail began to wag from left to right.

He laughed out loud.

"Will you shake my hand now?" asked the strange man, turning.

He held out his hand. Without hesitation, Charlie took it and shook it.

"Robert Strang," said the not-so-strange man.

Charlie smiled. "Charlie Kemp," he returned.

"I know, Charlie," Mr Strang said. "I know all about you."

Charlie grinned sheepishly. After drawing a deep breath he felt more and more at ease, so he perched himself on the edge of the armchair and looked on bewildered. This was quite unbelievable still.

Mr Strang sighed.

"There's so much to explain, Charlie," he said. "So I'll start at the beginning."

Charlie nodded, settling down to listen.

Mr Strang took a deep breath, then began, "I'm one of the founding members of the Tails Society. We're a secret society for all the people in the world who have tails. People like you and me."

Charlie frowned, but this sounded very exciting all the same.

"Tell me," said Mr Strang quietly. "Just how many people do you think there are with tails in the world, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged and shook his head. Up until a minute ago, he had always assumed that there was only one. Himself. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Guess."

Charlie shrugged again. "A thousand?"

It wasn't a proper guess. He really had no idea.

"Would you believe it if I said a million?" asked Mr Strang.

Charlie shook his head. A million was much, much more than he could imagine. If there were really that number of people with tails then everyone would know about it and accept it.

"Well," Mr Strang continued. "That's how many we think there are. We can't be sure. A lot of them feel ashamed because they're different and keep it secret."

He paused before adding, "Just like you did."

Charlie shuffled uneasily. He had never considered that he was not alone in the world and that there were others like him.

Mr Strang rose to his feet once again and came over to wear Charlie was seated. He crouched down in front and took Charlie's hands in his own. He looked up at him. Charlie could no longer see the person he feared in the man before him.

"We want you to be a member of the Tails Society," Mr Strang said quietly.

Charlie didn't know what to say.

"W-what..?" he gasped.

Mr Strang smiled pleasantly. He let go of Charlie's hands and stood up.

"You don't have to decide right away," he told Charlie. "And you don't ever have to join if you don't want to. But at least come and visit us before you make up your mind."

Everything was moving too fast for Charlie. A thousand different thoughts were swimming through his mind and none of them made any sense. Something he saw out of the corner of his eye attracted his attention and he looked toward the door.

His mum was peering through, smiling.

"Everything okay?" she mouthed to Mr Strang.

He nodded slowly, then looked back at Charlie.

"By all means," he added, "bring your mum and friends. They're all welcome... as long as they can keep the secret."

Charlie slid back into the chair and pondered over Mr Strang's invitation. A visit wouldn't do any harm, he reckoned, and he had to admit that he was curious, so he gave an unsure shrug.

Mr Strang stood up and beamed at Mrs Kemp. He placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder and gave him a playful shove.

"Good," he said. "Good."

Charlie looked back toward the door. His mum was still smiling, but now the rest of the gang were bustling around her, trying to get a look in. Mr Strang bowed his head politely in greeting and they all shrunk back nervously. Charlie grinned.

Then Mr Strang turned back to Charlie.

"Tomorrow," he said.

Charlie was looking forward to it already. He was both nervous and excited at the same time and it took hours for him to get to sleep that night. At nine o'clock the next morning, Charlie, his mum and all his friends were waiting by the front gate excitedly when a huge white car pulled into the road.

As it drew closer, Charlie could see his neighbours appear at their net curtains, peering out and wondering what all the fuss was about. Maybe they thought the Queen had come to visit. Charlie grinned. They would be gossiping about this for weeks to come.

The regal car came to a halt beside the curb and the driver's door popped open. Out stepped an immaculate chauffeur wearing clothes so smart it made them all look like scruffs. He strode over to Charlie and removed his cap.

"I am Worthington, sir," he said. "I will be your chauffeur today."

He spoke in a very clear, posh voice. Charlie felt honoured.

Worthington proceeded to open the car door with gloved hands and held it open whilst Charlie and his companions scrambled in. Charlie was immediately taken aback. He didn't know quite what to make of the car. It had squeaky leather seats, a red carpet and even a satellite television!

"Where's the kitchen sink?" his mum muttered as she settled in.

Worthington obviously heard her.

"If you require refreshment, madam, there are drinks in the fridge."

And there was indeed a fridge as well. It was beneath Charlie's seat and when he opened it he found seven bottles of chilled lemonade inside. He handed them out and then they sat back for the journey. Worthington revved the car's mighty engine a few times and then they were off.

They were all fidgety with excitement as the car pulled out of the road and sped across town, but none more so than Charlie. He had been expecting some social club in a church hall on the edge of town, but as they left the suburbs and started down twisting country lanes, those ideas were dashed.

They must have been travelling for nearly an hour before they finally stopped. Worthington drove them through quaint country villages that belonged to the last century and then joined a road that curved endlessly through a forest. Emerging on the other side, they took a sharp and unexpected turn right.

When Charlie looked out of the window all he could see was neatly pruned privet hedge on either side. This wasn't a normal road, he realised, for it was only just wide enough for them to pass through, plus he could hear gravel crunching under the tyres. He also noticed that Worthington was slowing down.

"Oh, Charlie!" his mum exclaimed.

Their seats were so arranged that whilst Charlie's mum sat facing the front, Charlie himself was facing her, with his back to the front. Straining in his seat belt, he looked back over his shoulder and suddenly realised that this wasn't a road. This was a driveway and at the far end of it was the grandest house Charlie had ever seen.

The car went all the way up to the front door before it stopped, and Charlie did not wait for Worthington. He swung open the car door and leapt out onto the gravel. The others all crowded out behind him and then the seven of them stood staring up at this heavenly building.

"Wow!" said Roger in little more than a strangled whisper.

"It's like the museum," Des hissed excitedly.

"Bigger," muttered Anna.

Indeed it was, for this was more than just a stately home. It was quite like something out of a fairytale. A mansion, a palace and a castle all rolled into one. It had battlements and buttresses and balconies aplenty. They were so humbled by its colossal size that they spoke in little more than awed whispers.

"Look!" said Eric, pointing with his plastered arm.

Before them the mighty front doors were being opened. They were twice as tall as any front door Charlie had ever seen and it took two doormen to open them. From within came Mr Strang, striding forth with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. His tail was also on proud display. He strode right up to Charlie, tucked his cane under his arm and shook Charlie's hand.

"Welcome to the Tails Society, Charlie," he said.

Without further ado he led them straight through the doors and into the heart of the house. The grand foyer was adorned with great mirrors, which captured their amazed faces many times over. There were so many mirrors that there were even reflections of their reflections in them!

Had Mr Strang not been setting such a rapid pace they would have all stopped to marvel once more. They were taken through ballrooms and banquet halls, hurried down long, sprawling corridors and passageways, and then led out onto the croquet lawn, across the flower gardens and over to the stables.

A marvellous Victorian horse and trap awaited them, though they had managed to lose Charlie's mum on the way. As the children began climbing aboard she emerged, somewhat dazed, from the flower gardens and went bright red. She joined Des, Anna, Roger, Sam and Eric in the carriage.

When Charlie went to climb up, however, Mr Strang placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded knowingly to his mum. Charlie looked up at him and his intentions were clear. He wanted Charlie to stay behind.

"Have a nice tour," Mr Strang said to the others.

Without further instruction, the driver jostled the reigns and clicked his tongue. The princely horse bore the weight of its passengers and then broke into an easy trot. Charlie and Mr Strang stood waving until the trap turned a corner and disappeared out of sight.

Then Mr Strang turned back to Charlie.

"Come on," he said. "There's someone special I want you to meet."

Suitably intrigued, Charlie followed Mr Strang back into the house, but it soon became clear that Mr Strang was not taking him straight there. Instead he was taking Charlie on the grand tour of the house, which he got to see in all its wondrous glory.

He saw gold and silver everywhere. He saw masterful portraits. He saw priceless antiques. But what he saw wasn't as important as the people he met. And the people he met were people like him. People with tails. Old people. Young people. White people. Black people. Tall people. Short people. All so very different, yet all sharing this one thing in common.

What Charlie did not see was anybody ashamed of his or her tail. In fact, everyone he met was downright proud and would not hide it away as he did. As he met more and more people he began to feel the stranger, for he kept his own tail hidden.

"There aren't any strangers here, Charlie," Mr Strang was telling him. "Only friends that you haven't met yet."

Charlie felt as if Mr Strang was trying to tell him something, but was keen on letting him find out for himself. He wondered if it had anything to do with the special someone Mr Strang was taking him to meet. In the end he just had to ask.

Mr Strang chuckled.

"No," he said. "You'll see."

Charlie was growing suspicious, but he was far too curious to turn back. Mr Strang's next stop was outside, where a group of fussy eccentrics were playing a game of croquet on the lawn. Watching them was a little boy of Charlie's age who came trotting up when the players stopped to greet Charlie.

He tugged on Charlie's sleeve and Charlie turned round.

"Don't you have a tail?" asked the little boy loudly.

"Yeah," said Charlie.

"Where is it, then?" demanded the boy.

"In my trousers," Charlie replied.

"Why?"

But for that, Charlie had no answer, though the little boy waited for one. There was little Charlie could say. After all, he was standing amidst a group of people who all had tails and were proud of the fact. Charlie opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he said nothing.

"You're weird," the little boy sneered.

Then he turned round again and ambled away. Charlie snorted. He wasn't going to stand for such cheek. As the boy wandered off, Charlie poked his tongue out in defiance. However, he then caught a glimpse of the kid's tail. It was tiny and pink and curly, much like a pig would have. It bobbed as the boy walked.

Charlie smirked. He'd show the little worm a thing or two, he thought. Whilst Mr Strang and the eccentrics chatted away, he loosened his trousers and freed his tail. When the boy reached the edge of the lawn he turned around and sat beneath a tree. Charlie whipped his tail through the air and sneered back at the boy.

With that, the brat got back up and stormed off.

Charlie watched him leave, smiled triumphantly, then looked up at Mr Strang.

"Was that him?" he asked.

Mr Strang nodded.

"I knew you wouldn't get along," he said.

Charlie frowned.

"Why?" he asked.

Mr Strang tweaked the end of Charlie's tail cheekily.

"Because you've got a nicer tail."

It was this that made Charlie realise what he was doing. As he stood there beaming proudly whilst the eccentrics fussed around and commented on his fine tail, he realised that he was showing off. He was proud. He was happy. And he wanted them all to know it.

Mr Strang did know it. He put an arm around Charlie's shoulders.

"So," he said. "Glad you came?"

Charlie just grinned all the more.

The tour at an end, Mr Strang led him back across the lawn and into an orchard. Amongst the trees was a large picnic table, which pristine butlers were setting with plates of sweets and cakes. Charlie and Mr Strang were the first guests to arrive, so when Mrs Kemp turned up with the rest of the Freak Gang, Charlie was already onto his second helping.

The children rushed over and began to tuck in.

"You should see the library!" said Anna between mouthfuls.

Des snorted lemonade everywhere.

"Forget the library!" he said. "You should see the football ground!"

They ate until the table had been cleared, and then Mr Strang summoned the butlers to return with more food. This time they ate until they were full. As the sun set, they huddled together on the grass and watched a magnificent fireworks display explode above their heads.

They were all sorry when the time came to leave. Mrs Kemp was so full she didn't feel like walking too far, so Mr Strang had the care brought over to them instead. They said their goodbyes and then climbed into the back of the car reluctantly. Then the chauffeur started the engine.

Mr Strang suddenly appeared at Charlie's window.

"Remember," he whispered. "You're always welcome here."

Before Charlie could thank him, he stepped away from the car and nodded to the chauffeur. The car pulled away from the house and started down the drive. The children all waved through the rear windscreen until Mr Strang was too small to see anymore, then they settled back into the seats for the return journey.

As they left the driveway, Des sighed.

"I wish I had a tail," he said.

NOTES:
Actually, reading through this final chapter again now, for the first time since I finished the thing, there seems something rather dubious in the message that it's good to celebrate your differences, but only if you do it in private. On another note, the name of the chauffeur, Worthington, comes from the chauffeur character of the same name in the Three Investigator mysteries I read religiously when I was Charlie's age.