‘Keep the water coming,’ shouted Sir Hugh. No one had seen him arrive. Nor had Marion seen Peter arrive, but there he was, with a short sharpened stake, pulled from a sheep hurdle, in one hand and his elm mallet in the other. Finding a foothold somewhere, he drove the stake into the soft earth where the bramble had been with deft powerful thumps. Gib was still on the water’s edge, bent double and gasping with exhaustion. Peter took his place on the bank, holding the new stake, and the flow of full buckets recommenced.

Meanwhile, up ladders and with rakes, three or four men were pulling at the thatch. There was another flare up of flames, quickly subdued by the dexterous arms of Ed-me-boy directing the flung water. Through the hissing steam, thatch was being pulled off leaving blackened beams. Smoke and horrible smells filled the air, and all the while there were shouts of instructions, warnings, advice and curses.

‘May yet save most of the beams.’

‘Some this side are gone. Could be replaced.’

‘Lucky the cow was out on the Common.’

‘Ridge beam looks sound enough.’

‘Can’t tell yet. Could be charred through.’

‘Who sent word to Hodge?’

‘He’s at Rockwell – but Peter’s here now.’

‘Hodge was up in the woods above Rockwell.’ That was Peter’s voice.

‘They sent a boy up to tell him. By the Devil’s toys.’

‘Hope he can get that silly woman to shut up screaming.’

‘She’s lost everything.’

‘Needn’t scream like that. We all lose things.’

‘No, Ed, don’t go in, bits on fire could drop on you – ’

‘It’s out, father – ooh, another rat!’

‘Don’t go in.’ It was Tom’s agonized voice.

But Ed-me-boy stepped in through the door and came out with a blanket in his arms.

‘All the bed’s burnt,’ he said. ‘Bits of burning thatch must have fallen on it. Hellish smelly mess in there.’ He held up the blanket which was full of holes, each hole edged with crisp black-burnt wool and large tawny scorched patches, the remains stinking horribly.

Cecily saw it and let out a huger wail. ‘My blanket, my new blanket, what’ll I do now? And my three big cheeses, new pressed – where are they?’

‘No, Cecily.’ It was Sir Hugh’s authority which temporarily calmed her. ‘Don’t go in. Nothing can be saved now. That blanket’s ruined, you can see, not a square foot of unburnt stuff in it. How did it happen?’

As the great effort ceased and the men scrambled up the bank to look at the ruin and to get their breaths, and as the women broke up their lines with the buckets, all were looking at the smoking, steaming ruin and asking how the fire had started.

Hodge, huffing and puffing from his run down the fields from Rockwell, burst in among them, shouting, ‘My house! Are the boys safe? Oh, my house! How did it happen? Cecily – how?’

‘Don’t know,’ wailed Cecily. ‘I’ve been in the Hall dairy all day.’