Andrew clung on, raised himself onto the tips of his toes, or as near to the tips as he could get in those hard leather shoes. He must have weighed fourteen stone. His hands went red and his knuckles white with the strain. The worst bit to cross was the crack. I fancied it had got wider since he dropped so heavily. But he did cross it with painful slowness and managed a few yards more, the school bag swinging from his shoulder, his feet dragging along the floor. Then there was the business, difficult for those not experienced in roof climbing, of hauling himself up onto the leads again. Swinging yourself upward so that your bent legs are on a level with your head and upper body is something all children can do. Grown-ups soon lack the strength for it. The muscles of their upper arms and backs grow flaccid. And so it was with Andrew. He tried, he made the effort, but his muscles lacked the necessary power. There was a window ahead, a window behind which people lived, but he had to take the risk of being seen and climb the architrave. He made it, hooking one leg, then the other, over the parapet and dropping onto the leads, gasping with the effort, his hands grazed and bleeding. Jason was waiting for him, laughing with delight. He threw himself on Andrew, the way children do when showing pleasure and love, and Andrew took him in his arms, giving him a smothering hug.

All this time I had been keeping an eye on the activity, or lack of it, in front of No. 4. Vivien Nyland had come down into the street and was talking to someone at the wheel of a police car. A man came out of the house, possibly her husband, but it was too dark to see clearly. Then two policemen came down the steps and four more went up them and into the house. And suddenly it was dark no longer. Car headlights came on, brilliant beams, an explosion of light almost blinding me. I shouted to everyone to keep down but Alison, with Silver to help her, had already descended onto the balcony. The beams flooded it like searchlights. The trees offered the two of them some protection, but the lights penetrated the flailing, twisting, leaf-burdened branches, in scattered rays. A beam of light struck Silver’s bright blond head and made a spot of dazzlement. Afraid the end might be near, I went back to the chimney stack and pushed the passports right to the back of the cavity.