By the time I had run down the lighthouse stairs, I was a bit dizzy. Rather than going through the cottage, I came out of the main lighthouse door and stopped for a second, holding on to the door frame to steady myself. There were two figures standing by the garden gate – Mags must have seen Kipper coming too, and she’d got there before me. I don’t know who had said what to whom in the short time it had taken me to get down the stairs, but it didn’t take me long to realize that they were on the brink of a fight.

‘Don’t know why Dad’s still doing business with you lot of crummy krauts,’ Kipper was sniping. Mags held out her hand for the parcel, but Kipper kept it just out of reach. He danced around her. ‘Oh, you want this, do you, Jerry? Come and get it . . .’

Mags’s face didn’t even flicker, and she didn’t try to grab the parcel; she wasn’t playing Kipper’s game. She folded her arms, keeping eye contact with Kipper. She looked almost bored, but I know Mags, and I knew her heart would have been thundering.

‘Come on,’ Kipper taunted, backing out through the gate again. ‘Come and get it, Magda . . . Or are you scared?’

‘I’m not scared of you, Kipper,’ Mags said evenly. ‘But I am afraid of getting too close – I just can’t stand the smell, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you, Frau Smeeth! You think you’re it. Up here in your so-called castle. Think you’re better than us, don’t you? Well, you’re not. If you don’t take that back, I’m going to lob your parcel right off the ruddy cliff!’

It was at this point that Kipper, now reversing quickly towards the cliff edge, his eyes fixed on Mags, collided with our enormous ginger cat Barnaby. Barnaby yowled and tore back towards the cottage, and Kipper started falling backwards, his arms windmilling wildly. He was heading for the edge of the cliff and I shrieked before starting towards him, along with Mags, who was already halfway there. At the very last moment, Kipper’s foot went down a rabbit hole and he fell, not backwards towards the edge, but to his left, cracking the side of his head on one of the standing stones.

‘Are you all right, Kipper?’ I called.