Eric has answered after all; perhaps he thought this could be news of Sorrel. Grace pictures his face falling; and feels a deep pang of guilt. At the end of the conversation Mr Richards turns to face them both.

‘Mr Kershaw corroborates Blake’s story. He says it’s probably his fault that the secateurs are in the bag because he forgot to take them back.’

Blake looks at Grace, a narrow-eyed glance that assesses her reaction. It carries guilt as well as relief; you would have to know him very well, as she does, to see he is still hiding something.

Mr Richards is continuing ‘… not complacent about weapons of any sort in school. The police classify bladed garden implements as weapons if found in an inappropriate place; school is an inappropriate place. Blake knows this. His good record of behaviour, Mr Kershaw’s endorsement and the fact that this is a gardening tool all work in his favour.’ He sighs briefly. ‘Blake will tell you we met with the safer schools officer this afternoon. As a first offence and for the reasons I’ve just related, we will not be taking this further at the present time, beyond recording the incident in detail, of course.’ His tone sharpens. ‘However, you will know that knife crime is soaring – forty thousand knife-related crimes in Britain last year and counting. The police take even the possibility of such crimes extremely seriously. If Blake brings any instrument that carries a blade into school again the consequences will be significant.’ He stands briskly and opens the door. ‘I’ll be sending you a letter.’

They walk out to the car in silence. Blake climbs in the front ignoring Poppy’s questions.

Grace drives to Dulwich Hamlet and hurries in for Charley. Her daughter slides into the back seat next to Izzy, and then leans forward eagerly. ‘Any news?’

‘Not yet, but the police are searching, people are looking all over London—’

‘Could you stop saying that?’ Izzy interrupts. ‘You are upsetting Poppy. And Blake.’

She leans forward and trails her fingers over Blake’s face. Blake is frozen; there is something about his immobility that reminds Grace of an animal caught in a trap.

‘Poor Blakie,’ Izzy murmurs, then she leans back again.

A decision arrives in Grace’s mind like a gift or directive. ‘Silly me. I forgot to go to the bookshop.’ She turns the car into Eve’s road and draws up outside the gate. ‘You girls go in; Blake needs a couple of books. We’ll have to pop back to the village.’

‘Can I come?’ Charley asks. ‘I want a book.’

‘This is for school. Out you get now, girls, we won’t be long.’

The girls get out silently; she watches them walk slowly up the drive. Izzy has her arm around Poppy who is hunched into herself. Charley follows, shouldering her rucksack and glancing back at the car.

‘Which books?’ Blake asks.