“We asked the Council if they had anything to say, but they refused to make anyone available this evening for comment.”

Heartening as all this was Joe found it difficult that night to keep his spirits up. He knew that the old people couldn’t sustain their protest for very long, that there was a limit to their endurance. Many of them were very frail. All night long he lay awake, agonising about it. He decided to give it one last day, and then call it off if the Council hadn’t changed their mind by the evening.

The next morning, after breakfast, as Joe and Paddywack led the old people down the drive, Joe saw there were hundreds of supporters waiting for them, gathered on the grass verge and all along the pavement below. Some of them were holding up a new banner that read. “Paddywack for Prime Minister!” There was more clapping and whistling and whooping, and then everyone started singing Knick Knack Paddywack all over again – it really had become the anthem of the protest. It was all a bit much for Paddywack, whose ears were twitching constantly with anxiety. He thrust his head in under Joe’s hand for reassurance. The reassurance was mutual. As the song rang out, as he felt Paddywack there right beside him, Joe began to be hopeful once again. But an hour later, with all the exultation and excitement over, with the cold gnawing at him, hope gave way to despair. He glanced across at all the old people, heard their wheezing and their coughing, and saw the suffering in their faces. He knew then he had to bring this to an end, and soon, that some of them might not last out the day.

The crowd was still there in vast numbers all that morning, and so was the press. There were vans with satellite dishes all down the road now. Everyone was watching and waiting. Joe was just brewing up again when he looked up and he saw the policeman – it was the same inspector as the day before – come striding across the grass verge towards him. He had a piece of paper in his hand.

“What’s that?” Joe asked. “A warrant for my arrest?”

The police inspector shook his head. “You’d better read it,” he said, handing it to Joe. It was a press release.

“Fairlawns Nursing Home. After due and careful consideration, and in the light of the strength of local feeling on this issue, the Council has decided to cancel plans for the closure of Fairlawns.”

Joe read it twice, just to be sure there was no mistake, that it really was true. Then he read it aloud, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The cheer that went up was mighty. Total strangers hugged one another. Mrs Bellamy, who was not generally a hugging sort of person, went up and hugged the police inspector, because no one else had.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Because it’s a great moment,” she told him, “and because you brought the good news. Mind you, if you’d brought bad news, I’d have wrung your neck.”