‘Doesn’t matter now,’ he said, back to being a bugger. ‘The sweet chestnut just over the boundary wall. Climb up and look inside and it’s hollow, Mam. I kept a few bits in there. Pike must have seen. Took it.’

I could hear my breathing was becoming shorter. I felt like I’d been running.

‘What did the letter say?’

‘It were foreign,’ he shrugged, as if this made it little more than nonsense. ‘Just a couple of lines.’

‘So how do you know what it said?’

‘I asked, din’t I?’

I rubbed my hands through my hair, exasperated. It was like pulling teeth, but that’s an awful thing to say, considering.

I heard John’s voice drifing up the stairs then felt the draft that meant the front door was open. I felt like screaming. A few days ago life had felt like it had a rounder shape. Things led back to themselves. All my friends and family and the things I had to do – it was like they were all connected to me with wool and they twisted around each other as if we were all Maypoling. Now my life was jagged edges and sharp lines and it felt as though the wool was tangling me up and cutting in.

‘Get your pyjamas on,’ I said, trying to sound stern. ‘We’re not done.’

I left the bathroom before he could think of a clever reply and as I came down the stairs I saw John was talking to Heron in the doorway. Heron had that look about him. Looked like a soldier or a cowboy or somebody who rides a horse and swims in waterfalls in the films. If he’d given a damn about such things he could have been in any one of the magazines. He was the sort who would make your tongue twist over your words and I honestly couldn’t think of a single thing to say as I stood still on the stairs.

‘Thought it might be better to bring her ’ere,’ said Heron, and John must have heard the stairs creak ’cause he turned around. He was wearing his cardigan over his vest and braces and holding a mug of tea in his hand. From where I stood I could see how thin his hair had got on top. He seemed smaller, too, though everybody looked small next to Heron. I felt such a cow for thinking it but you can’t help your instincts, can you? And I’m shamed to say it but that were the first time I thought that John were starting to look a bit knackered. Starting to look like he was going to look when he got old.

‘Felicity,’ said Heron, and he touched a knuckle to his forehead. ‘Your friend. She could use a bit of company if that’s all right. Bit of a run-in with somebody passing through.’