Pa was still snoring, dead to the world. When I went to check on Jimmy, the light was out and he was fast asleep. I would only be half an hour or so. Neither of them would even notice I was gone. I prayed the storm would hold off until I got home. My footsteps seemed to guide themselves, and it felt like only moments before I found myself walking up the gravel driveway to the Hall.

I knocked on the door, hearing it resonate inside the huge hallway, mirroring the sound of my heart hammering inside my chest. The words were ready in my mouth: ‘Hello, Mrs Waddington, I’m sorry to call so late. It’s fine – nothing wrong. But could I have a quick word with Kit?’

There was no answer. My second knock resounded even more loudly. I was about to give up when I heard his voice: ‘Hang on, hang on. Who is it? I’m coming.’

The latches went back, the door opened and there he was, my lovely boy, in stripy pyjamas and a velour dressing gown, his hair tousled, feet bare.

‘Molly? It’s nearly ten o’clock, for goodness’ sake. I was getting ready for an early night. Has something happened?’

‘Where are your parents?’

‘Pa is in London and Ma is at some black-tie charity affair in Sudbury, I think. You know these do-gooders, they like to enjoy themselves. Well, look . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t reckon they’ll be back for an hour or so. Do you want to come in?’

We went through to that beautiful drawing room, the one where we’d first had tea all those months ago, where Jimmy had spilled his drink and we’d witnessed Mr Waddington’s short temper for the first time. Kit sat in an easy chair and I took the sofa.

‘What is it, Molly? You can tell me, you know.’

‘I know. That’s why I’m here. You’re the only person I can trust.’

‘Well then, tell me.’ The yawning stretch of deep carpet between us made everything so formal.

‘I’m so worried about Eli and I really want to help him, but my father’s in so much trouble, I don’t know how we are going to survive it, and I just can’t, I just can’t . . .’ My voice broke and the tears began to run down my cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry, but I’m sure it’s not the end of the world, you dear old thing.’ Kit reached into his dressing-gown pocket and pulled out a crumpled linen handkerchief embroidered in navy blue at the corner, with the initials CMW. I wiped my face, distractedly wondering what the M stood for.