I’d inherited a kitchen garden from my predecessor, who had built six galvanised planters halfway between the kitchen and the poultry shed. It was a sunny spot, and the outside tap was close enough for hose-watering—though I’d recently installed a drip system. I grew herbs, legumes, brassicas, zucchini and tomatoes. I didn’t raise enough to feed large groups of people; most of what I grew was for my own consumption.

I kept thinking about Aaron as I picked tufts of billygoat weed out of the broccoli bed. What if he hadn’t been looking for a phone last night? What if he’d been coming to talk to me? I wasn’t making it easy for him; I’d been avoiding the campers all day, partly because they were such a challenge and partly because I’d been keeping an eye on Shaun’s hut. But no one had been near it. The boys barely had enough time to turn around, let alone go snooping.

If Aaron wanted to call his mum, I thought, it was probably so he could warn her. Maybe he was scared of what I would do. They’d both changed their names, so they were obviously in hiding. He might be scared I’d call the police.

Perhaps if I reassured him, he’d stop breaking into my house.

Or not. It was hard to tell. For all I knew, he wanted to get even. A lot had happened in Otford, most of it bad.

I was sorting through ten-year-old memories when suddenly I heard it: the sound of breathing close behind me. I spun around.

‘Jake!’ I clutched my chest. ‘Jesus!’

‘Sorry. Did I scare you?’ He was grubby and scratched but wearing his usual smirk.

‘What the hell…?’

‘I got lost.’ He didn’t even try to sound convincing. ‘I had to come back.’

For the bin, I thought. His eyes weren’t red, though, and he wasn’t sneezing. ‘Well, in that case we’d better tell Mr Steiger. He’ll be worried.’

‘No, he won’t. He’ll be angry.’ Jake grabbed my hand as I reached for the UHF radio on my belt. ‘You’ve got to help me. Please. You don’t know what he’s like. He’s a sadist.’

It was the worst performance I’d ever seen. Even the catch in his voice was fake. I shook him off, disliking the feel of his smooth, sweaty fingers.

‘Nice try.’ I was lifting the radio to my mouth when he snatched it away. ‘Hey!’

‘I’ve never used one of these.’

‘Jake.’ I lunged at him. But he skipped backwards, simpering.

‘You’ll have to get it off me,’ he said. ‘I bet you’re really strong. You look strong.’

‘Drop it.’

‘Woof, woof!’ He stuck the radio between his teeth and began to pant like a dog, prancing around, trying to make me chase him.