‘Oh what a mess,’ I said, turning to look at the scene outside Fairfax’s. The wagon had shed its load. Scaffolding poles hung from the side and the cab was at an ugly angle from the bed of the wagon, like a chicken with a broken neck. A huge stone tablet lay smashed on the kerb.

‘Never mind all that, would be worse with you under the wheels,’ said Harper.

I felt Cordelia’s hand on my arm. She kept squeezing me softly, telling me I’d be OK, I’d be fine, that I’d given her such a fright.

They got me into John’s armchair without much difficulty. I was burning with embarrassment but they wouldn’t hear any of my protests. Cordelia propped me up with cushions and then started taking my shoes off like I was a child. I couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t stop Harper walking around on the kitchen carpet with his muddy boots on either. I let them get on with it. Put my head back and closed my eyes and listened to them fuss and chatter like monkeys; the story getting grander and bigger with each re-telling.

‘Where’s the boy gone?’ asked Harper, over the bubbling of the kettle on the stove.

‘I told him to go wash his hands or the cuts would get infected. Felicity, do you have a medicine box? We need to clean up some of these grazes.’

I sighed, shaking my head. ‘I’ll sort it myself. Like I keep saying, there’s no need to fuss.’

Harper laughed again. ‘Tough lasses round here, did you not know that,’ he said, and as I opened my eyes I saw him winking at Cordelia. ‘You’ll be Mrs Hemlock, yes? I did some work on your place. Repaved the lean-to.’

‘The what?’

‘In the low orchard. Lovely summer house up against boundary wall.’

‘With the ivy? By the pear trees?’

‘Aye. Old flags were like a jigsaw. Re-set the lot for you. Did your man a good price. He happy?’

She shot a look at me. Gave a tight smile. ‘It’s great. I don’t spend as much time there as I should.’

‘Aye well, we’ve not had the weather for it. Been a bugger this week getting jobs started. Thought we spotted a break in the weather and hoped we could at least sink a couple of foundation poles on the Kinmont grave but I reckon the heavens will open again soon.’ He twisted to look at me and smiled, rubbing his hair with a big dirty hand. ‘And o’course, the wagon’s stuck in the house yonder.’