‘There’s nothing “infected” to speak of,’ Brother Linus finally passed judgement, ‘although you do appear to have a small, shaven area around a gash with a couple of stitches at the centre of it.’

A gash?

‘Are you certain, Brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘Stitches?’ I repeat. ‘Would you just … could you just double-check that for me?’

Brother Linus double-checked.

‘Yes. There seems to be a measure of … a tightness … Perhaps the wound is healing and so itching. There is also a small area of inflammation near to one corner. A stitch has come loose. Perhaps you’ve been scratching …?’

‘Stitches?’ I repeat.

‘A minor head injury,’ Brother Linus confirms.

‘There was a sudden landslip,’ I say, ‘a rockfall …’

‘Ah.’ Brother Linus nods. ‘I see.’

A landslip? Did I actually just say that? Me? Franklin D.? A landslip?

‘Perhaps you should go and fetch Father Pietr?’ Brother Prosper suggests (from his chair). ‘I can always keep an eye on him if you like.’

As Brother Linus ponders the wisdom of this course of action, something terrible suddenly strikes me: I have stopped walking! I have stopped walking!

‘OH GOD I’VE STOPPED WALKING!’ I yell, panicked.

‘You have stopped walking,’ Brother Linus confirms, very calmly, touching my arm, very gently. ‘Perhaps if you just … if you just calm yourself down for a minute, Mr … uh … I don’t believe you’ve formally introduced yourself to us, Mr …?’

‘Mr Huff!’ I pant. ‘You don’t understand, Brother. I have walked from Hastings to see Brother – Father Hugh. I am covered in blisters. And my …’

I close my eyes, humiliated.

‘… my buttocks connived to seal together somewhere along the way. They stuck together. With the plasma. So I tore them apart to enable me to continue …’

Brother Linus flinches.

‘Of course I knew then that if I stopped again for any sustained period I would be … I wouldn’t be able to … at least not without …’

A brief silence follows in which we all consider our options. Mine, I suspect, are quite limited at this stage. So I inhale deeply and take another small, completely experimental step forward …

(One small step for man, one giant leap for a behind …)

Quite a modest little step by all accounts. Just the one. That really was all it took.

29

Miss Carla Hahn

I took a leaf from Mr Huff’s book and was – by my own standards – quite ruthless about the arrangements. The garden was formally opened for filming between the hours of ten and two. The house was strictly off limits. I told Sorcha that I could only provide access so long as I didn’t appear ‘on camera’ myself (and both parties involved grudgingly accepted this condition).

Sorcha naturally wanted some footage of Orla’s tiny box bedroom. In fact we were having an argument about exactly this (‘The cottage is being rented, Sorcha. It’s full of Mr Huff’s private stuff … Uh … are the Channel 4 people actually filming this conversation? This conversation. This one. Right now? No? Are you certain? Because if they aren’t then why is that little, red light flashing away on the …?) when Sage Meadows turned up.