‘You stay,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘I can take a soaking. Easing off now anyways. And I’ve got the Roadster out front. Top’s up, don’t fret. Tractor’s in barn too. It’s only weather. Don’t panic.’

I wasn’t sure what to say. Didn’t know whether I wanted him to go and see or to stay where he was and keep the whole thing uncertain. I suppose, looking back, I knew what he was going to find. There had been a body, right enough. Fresh enough I’d still have got a stew out of the meat on him and not worried about it being off. I’ve never thought of that moment without crying. Not ’til now.

‘Don’t go out in that silly little car in this weather. And only if you’re sure, Fairfax …’

He smiled at me. Slipped his sock back into his boot and pulled on his hat and coat. I’d known him since I was a girl. Dad’s friend. Bit of a rascal. Bit of a joker. Lost his boy in the war and aged about twenty years overnight. He’d become a bit crooked, as though he were carrying more weight on his shoulders than he was built for. But he always found the strength for a smile and a joke and he always made me feel like I was doing all right.

‘Keep the pot warm,’ he said, turning away. ‘Be back before you know it.’

We waited for an hour and twenty minutes. I remember that exactly. I’d forgotten that the clock in the sitting room had a tick. I’d stopped hearing it. But I heard it count out every second of those eighty minutes and by the time I lost my patience and went to grab my coat, we were both ready to rip the thing off the wall.

The rain had lost some of its fury and the view from the front door looked fresh and clean, as though everything had been scrubbed with wire wool. The road down the hill was a stream and there were fresh lakes by the edges of the road; deep and black as a wishing well.

We didn’t speak as we tottered down the hill. I heard her footsteps through the water and I’m sure she heard mine. Heard my own breathing, and hers.

‘Fairfax!’ I shouted, pushing back through the gate.

I think I shouted it again, but perhaps I only got halfway through the word.

The tree had brought down more than the crypt. It had flattened half a dozen headstones and crumbled them like biscuits. The branches had dragged down a handful of smaller trees and their roots were now pushing up through the earth like giant snakes. I thought of fairy tales: a great tangle of thorns and worms and bones. It made me shudder. Made me want to turn away.