Yes, he’s drunk, I wanted to shout. And why do you think a man who never normally touches alcohol, beyond the odd sociable beer, is drunk at midday on a Wednesday? Because of you, Mr Blackman, and your meddling – and the way you have no feelings for anyone other than yourself.

Of course I said none of that. What I did say was, ‘Would you like some coffee, Mr Blackman? I’d like to ask you something. Do come through to the kitchen.’ I turned back to Pa, whispering, ‘Stay here, I’ll bring coffee’, and then closed the door behind me.

‘And what is this mysterious matter, Miss Goddard?’ Mr Blackman said, after I’d made coffee. I took a glass of orange juice up to Jimmy and told him to stay in his room until the coast was clear.

Once again, having spent so many hours imagining him as a dark, menacing evil, Blackman’s very ordinariness took me aback. He was really rather average in every way, the sort of man who might pass unnoticed in a crowd. There was not a single pair of horns, curly tail or fearsome trident in sight.

‘It’s good news about your friend Mr Chadwick, isn’t it?’ he said with a false air of brightness. ‘We were fortunate enough to persuade the council to allocate him one of those lovely houses on the High Road, and he’s moved in. They’ve got all mod cons, you know? Hot water and electricity, flushing toilets – the lot. He seemed delighted. As surely anyone would be?’

He smirked, showing all his teeth. How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. Blackman was lying, and he really didn’t care that I knew it. He was operating on a whole different level of truth and morality. It felt like walking on quicksand.

‘I went up there this morning, and none of the houses were occupied,’ I said. The hint of a frown shadowed his face.

‘A man has the right to leave his home from time to time, Miss Goddard, does he not? No doubt Mr Chadwick has gone a-visiting. As people do.’ His self-satisfied tone made me want to grind my teeth.

‘He didn’t want to leave. He loved his hut, and said he’d only ever leave it if they took him out in his coffin.’

Blackman sighed. ‘Dear Miss Goddard. I realise that you have the best of intentions but, forgive me, I wouldn’t expect someone of your tender years to entirely understand the complexities of society. Mr Chadwick is suffering mental-health issues,’ he went on. ‘When you are older, you will surely see that our actions were very much in his best interests. We are all prone to sentimentality on occasion, are we not?’

Why did he always end his sentences with a question?