‘Just leave him alone for a while,’ I replied, carefully moving my net through the water. ‘Anyone’d think you’ve got ants in your pants this afternoon.’

I was so absorbed in helping Angus to release some more tiny fish into the bucket that it was some time before I noticed Olivia was crying.

‘Hey, what on earth’s the matter?’ I flung an arm round her slim shoulders, but she wriggled uneasily.

‘Come over here,’ Olivia said. She seemed all twitchy and strange. We left the boys and walked back up slowly under the trees towards the garden.

‘I feel so peculiar,’ Olivia sniffed. ‘It’s – Katie, I got my – you know – today.’

I turned to her, baffled.

‘My – when you become a woman.’ Olivia seemed to have to wring the words out of herself.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Gosh. I see. Your periods.’ Thanks to Granny Munro I knew all about those. ‘Bad luck. Is it making you feel rotten then?’

‘No. My tummy hurts a bit. It’s sort of gripy, down here.’ She laid a hand on the lower part of her stomach. ‘But it’s not that. I feel awfully queer. I’ve never felt like this before. As if I want something very badly but I don’t know what it is.’

‘Oh,’ I said again. I hadn’t the remotest idea what Livy was talking about.

‘And when I told Mummy about it, she got all cross and then started crying. It’s made me feel awful.’

I was astonished. Hoping to cheer Livy up, I said, ‘Never mind. Let’s go in and have some tea before you have to go. Mrs Drysdale’s made shortbread and there’s chocolate cake.’

Olivia burst into tears all over again.

‘What’s up now?’ I cried.

‘I don’t know.’ She was wiping her face with her hanky. ‘It’s just how I feel.’

When we got inside, Mummy seemed to have calmed down. Her meeting was over.

‘Well, you look like a wet weekend,’ she said briskly to Olivia in her best nursing sister tone. ‘Where are the boys?’

‘Coming,’ I said.

We sat in the kitchen and Mrs Drysdale poured tea for us all from the big brown pot with its green and orange knitted cosy. I loved the kitchen. It was warm and steamy in winter with the range going full blast and cool in summer with its dull red quarry tiles and shady atmosphere.

We all sat round the table, Mummy with her thin body quite upright, as if she had a steel bar up the back of her blouse. She had fastened her hair up again at the back and it waved neatly round her face. She was wearing a moss-green cardigan which had a tie of braid at the neck.

‘You’ve got so much on, Mummy,’ I exclaimed, looking at her. ‘It’s such a boiling day!’

‘It may be outside,’ she replied as she sliced up the moist cake, a smooth ridge of butter icing between the two layers, ‘but I’ve been in sorting out this parish work.’