She ignored the chokes, splutters and curses from Hooper’s band of freaks.

‘You poor, poor child,’ she said dramatically, gesturing to Elliot. ‘Of course there’s no way the auction can go ahead now. Here . . .’

She snatched the deeds from the auctioneer. This was going to hurt. But she had to save her own skin. Home Farm could keep for another day. Revenge could wait. But she could do nothing if she were in prison.

‘Have these,’ she said through clenched teeth, slapping the papers against the urchin’s chest. ‘Home Farm . . . is . . . yours.’

The boy hugged the papers and was immediately enveloped in embraces from the freak show. Stupid people were so very sentimental.

‘This doesn’t end it,’ slurred Boil.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ hissed Patricia. ‘I’ll deal with you another time.’

‘Well, I believe that brings this afternoon’s proceedings to a close,’ huffed the auctioneer. ‘I’m sorry you – we – have all had a wasted journey. Good day.’

Patricia, eyes narrowed, watched all the buyers disperse angrily. All that money, just walking away. She turned and walked over to the Hooper child.

‘Enjoy your victory today,’ she whispered to him. ‘But keep looking over your shoulder, pooky. While there is breath in this body, I will have my revenge.’

‘Patricia?’ Elliot said.

‘That’s Mrs Porshley-Plum to you,’ she scowled.

‘Sorry – Mrs Porshley-Plum?’

‘What?’

‘My grandad was right,’ said Elliot. ‘You really are a Horse’s-Bum.’

And with that, he turned and walked back towards his farmhouse.

Patricia watched him go with unbridled hatred. He’d keep. There would be another day. Home Farm would be hers. She’d survived to fight another day. That was all that mattered.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

‘Excoose me,’ said a large American gentleman. ‘Mrs Horse’s-Butt?’

‘PORSHLEY-PLUM!’ she shouted.

‘My name is Mr Dante,’ said the gentleman. ‘Yous may have heard of me – I’m a property gazillionaire – Pluto Holdings – with an interest in . . . long-term investments.’

‘Really?’ said Patricia, smiling coldly at the man. He looked like just the sort of rich idiot she needed.

‘I was wondering if we could have a conversation back at my offices?’ said the gentleman. ‘They ain’t far from here, and I’m looking to invest a sizeable sum of money today.’

‘Very well,’ said Patricia. She saw a black limo was waiting outside the gate. ‘After you.’

‘No, really,’ said the gentleman, bowing slightly as she entered the car. ‘After you.’

‘What on Earth are we doing here?’ said Patricia, stepping distastefully out of the car into a pile of cinders an hour later. ‘And why is it so hot?’