Ruby watches from the rear window as the car accelerates. In one glance, she takes it all in, exulting in the scene as if she’s watching it in the picture house: the man standing in the doorway of his shop, one hand on the doorframe, bent and panting; the stricken girl on the ground, who was too stupid to move and is now wailing loudly; and the woman, wrapped in a beautiful honey-coloured coat, crouching to hold her.

The woman does not take her eyes off Ruby.

The car turns the corner at the end of the street. Ruby leans back into her seat. The image of the woman staring at her, shocked and amazed, burns into her mind. She has been seen. A thrill runs through her body – a surge of something like electricity.

Harriet watches the car drive away. The vehicle is substantial enough to tell her it might have been used in the war. A Vauxhall. It has a London registration plate. She commits the details to memory, even as she tries to calm little Cecily Enderby.

She has witnessed a crime.

Cecily is not really hurt, but she’s shocked and frightened. Mr Enderby leans on the doorframe of his shop, wheezing, trying to catch a breath.

Cecily’s cries have brought further interested onlookers and local shopkeepers, and a crowd of Good Samaritans gathers around the fragile girl, who has recovered enough to tell the story over and over: the man pushing her to the ground and the woman laughing as they ran to the car. Cecily Enderby has never received this much attention in her life and is now revelling in it – the tragic heroine in her very own melodrama.

Harriet does not recall the woman laughing. She had looked… What was it? There had been something vital about her.

One of the more useful bystanders has taken it upon himself to locate a police officer in a neighbouring street and the local constable, whose face is familiar to Harriet, is quick to recognise the heart of the matter. He makes kind noises towards the wilting Cecily, before making his way to Mr Enderby. He touches his hat to Harriet and encourages the jeweller inside.

Harriet was supposed to be posting a letter for her father. He has been composing it for most of the morning and will be annoyed at her for failing him in this one simple task, but she has seen the young couple make their escape – she has a clear recollection of them and is, therefore, a witness. She has a duty to speak to the policeman. She is also a reporter for the Kensington Gazette. She had not wanted to work today and had decided to take the day off, but she is not going to miss out on this story.