“Right, Evan,” said Cooper. “Let’s have a closer look. Love, I think we need some ice.”

Evan winced as his elderly neighbor manipulated his wrist, but the pain had begun to wear off. The old lady appeared with a bag of frozen fish fillets that she wrapped in a tea towel.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” said Cooper.

They sat for a while, the rough fabric pressed against Evan’s wrist, dampening in the heat. The boy couldn’t think of anything to say and, after a while, began to fidget.

“I better go home now,” he said.

Cooper adjusted the ice pack, pressed his palms on his knees and leaned forward. A bluebottle buzzed lazily around the kitchen. “How old are you, Evan?”

“Nine.”

“And do you often stay at home on your own?”

“Um, sometimes.”

“Shall I tell you something?” It was the kind of question that did not allow for an answer. “I’ve been many things in my life. Mostly a gardener on those big country estates you might have visited with your mum and dad, but, in my younger days, I used to be a school governor. And I think nine’s a bit young to be left on your own.”

“My sister’s looking after me today.”

“Is she, now? Doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it, if you ask me.” He laughed. “You fell out of a tree.”

“She’ll be back in a minute.”

“Well, I’d feel happier if we can keep an eye on you until she gets back. Did you bump your head?”

“No.”

“Looky here,” said the old man. “I appreciate this isn’t the way you wanted to spend your morning. Come on upstairs. There’s a few things up here that might interest you.”

* * *

The door creaked as it opened. Evan’s eyes widened. A single bed neatly made with a blue and white patchwork quilt was tucked in the corner of the room, a well-worn teddy leaning against the pillow.

Mr. Men books filled shelves that ran the length of the room. Evan recognized The Collected Tales of Beatrix Potter nestled beside Enid’s Blyton’s The Castle of Adventure and half a dozen Shoot soccer annuals.

An AT-AT walker—he recognized it from the Star Wars films his father made him watch—stood proudly on the windowsill next to boxed figures of Luke Skywalker and Jabba the Hutt. A flat, red computer with a handle and a yellow and blue keyboard caught his eye on the bedside table. Speak & Spell. He could see action figures and boxes of Lego and a whole selection of Matchbox cars.

“Go in,” said Cooper. The old lady was hanging up the washing and, for that, Evan was grateful. He couldn’t put it into words, but the room seemed faded, like an old photograph brought to life.