‘What?’ Tom says innocently, as though he hasn’t just suggested that they attempt a highly technical construction project via the kind of tool you might use to remove a few flagstones from a garden path.

‘This is insane,’ Clive says when he’s regained the faculty of speech. ‘We’re talking here about insurance policies being breached. We’re not covered for this kind of labour …’

‘He’s volunteering,’ Tom counters.

‘You’re exploiting him.’

Tom lifts his eyes. ‘You can talk.’

‘What?’

‘About exploiting people.’

‘What the hell are you …’

Tom is right up into his face, kind of hoping Clive will hit him. ‘You underpaid those workers. That’s why they walked off site. Not because of some rumours about goblins and bumps in the night.’

Clive raises his eyebrows all the way into his hairline. ‘How bloody dare you?! I paid those workers the agreed rate …’

‘… you lied to them about what the build involved, Clive …’

‘… the agreed rate that was what we could afford, Tom! I didn’t expect you to start drafting in helicopters and using manual labour instead of explosives.’

Tom falls silent. ‘You know why I won’t use explosives.’

‘If you’d used explosives to deepen the foundations of the first house right now you’d be sitting in your living room drinking a Scotch by the fire.’

He watches as Tom seethes. Good. He’s sick of tiptoeing around plain facts. What he’d love to say is that Tom is holding everyone hostage with these insane demands. The Norwegian surveyor was strict as a nun, but even he said explosives and digging were still playing by the rules, so long as they took certain precautions. Tearing up some trees was fine, too, so long as they were put to use.

He wonders if Tom’s refusal to budge on these simple, rule-abiding methods is some kind of subconscious suicide mission that he’s dragging everyone else into. For a moment he feels genuinely scared.

‘Someone will get hurt, Tom,’ he says in a resigned voice. ‘Mark my words. You’re going to kill someone if you keep going on like this.’

   20   

Aurelia’s diary

I can barely move this morning. Tom threw me against the wall last night and I hurt my head and back pretty badly. Breastfeeding is difficult. Breathing is difficult. I imagine there’s bruising but I haven’t looked. Still, I came off pretty lightly so I ought not to complain.