‘Mrs Simnel … Is something wrong?’

She cut him short. ‘Nay, lad. I were just thinking how strange it is that someone so small and, well, hairy could be … a king. But ’appen that’s the disguise. I’m sure he’ll look reet fine in his crown and glitter when he’s back on his scone. Now, you need a bed, my lad.’

Tired though he was, Moist could recognize a deflection tactic, and carried on. ‘Mrs Simnel, is there something you’re not—’

‘Nay, there’s nothing, nothing for you to worry about at any rate.’

Moist’s thoughts were in a whirl, but then further thoughts were blown away by the sound of the front door being blown open as Dick arrived with water streaming off his gabardine, and greeted his mother. He was carrying so many bundles and boxes that he had to deposit them all in the little hallway where a shiny clock told the time, the days of the week and quite possibly the phase of the moon for that night, but most of all it was there to show the world that Dick Simnel’s mother got the very best things he could buy for her. She was in his arms immediately, scattering parcels, but he managed to shake her off, laughing.

Seated in the still warm kitchen of the little house, Dick scoffed the congealed pease pudding while she unpacked some of the parcels.

‘That’s gradely, our ma! It’s blowing up something cruel out there.’

Moist suddenly realized he was dog tired.

Mrs Simnel said, ‘I’ve made up a bed for you, Mister Lipwig. I had made up one for t’King, but he looks comfortable where he is and I don’t want to disturb him now. Will you be stopping for the night, our Dick?’

‘Sorry, Mother, no, too much to do. We’re all on double shifts.’

Mrs Simnel looked at Moist proudly. ‘That’s my lad. He’s a worker, my boy, what with his tiddling stick.’

‘That’s a sliding ruler, Mother,’ Simnel said, grinning at Moist.

‘Aye, well,’ said the proud parent, ‘he’s making his way in the world, is my lad, working for that Harry King.’ And she went to kiss Dick, who picked her up and kissed her in mid air, and put her back down again, leaving her slightly more wet and greasy than before.

‘Oh, Mother,’ he said, ‘don’t make me out to be some kind of saint, I’m just another working man with filthy ’ands. Any road, I ’ave to get going, you know ’ow it is.’

On his way out, Dick looked in at the King and said, ‘Is he okay, Mother?’

Moist watched Mrs Simnel’s face very carefully.

‘He’s gradely, lad,’ she replied. ‘He just needs his sleep, such a shame to wake him up.’

Dick flashed a glance to Moist as his mother said that and seemed to be entertaining a thought and then shrugged like a man who had thought better about it. He handed Moist a parcel of clean clothes for himself and the King and then kissed his mother again.