What lie would he not see through? She could not waken him without tacitly admitting that she had heard him crying in his dream. She turned and walked back to the door and went a little way along the passage. Then a better idea came to her. She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. Then she took four cookies and put them on a plate. She went back upstairs, careful not to trip over her nightgown. Just before she reached his room, she deliberately banged the door of the linen cupboard. She knew it might waken Monk as well, but that could not be helped.

When she reached Scuff’s room, he was lying in bed with the blankets up to his chin, fingers gripping them, eyes wide open.

“You awake too?” she said, as if mildly surprised. “So am I. I’ve got some milk and cookies. Would you like half?” She held up the plate.

He nodded. He could see there was only one glass, but the milk did not matter. It was the chance to be awake and not alone that he wanted.

She came in, leaving the door ajar, and sat on the edge of the bed. She put the glass on the table beside him and the plate on the blankets.

He picked up a biscuit and nibbled it, watching her. His eyes were wide and dark in the low lamplight, waiting for her to say something.

“I don’t like being awake at this time of the night,” she said, biting her lip a little. “I’m not really hungry; it just feels nice to eat something. Have the milk if you want it.”

“I’ll take ’alf,” he said. Food was precious; he was always fair about it.

She smiled. “Good enough,” she agreed, picking up a biscuit herself so he would feel comfortable eating.

He reached for the glass, holding it with both hands. He drank some, then looked at it to measure his share, drank a little more, then handed it to her. He sat very upright in the bed, his hair tousled and a rim of white on his upper lip.