Pa came out to join me and we continued searching together, agreeing that the most logical explanation was that Jimmy had got up and gone out early, for some reason known only to himself. He couldn’t be far away, surely? Neither of us spoke about the previous day: the diocesan visitors, his humiliation. His drunkenness. Nor the fact that I had crept out without telling anyone.

We stopped everyone we passed – there weren’t many at this time of the morning – but no one had seen any sign of Jimmy.

‘Should we knock on doors?’

‘Let’s not trouble people so early. It’s been such a rough night. We’ll find him soon enough.’ Pa didn’t sound convinced. We reached the last house, then retraced our steps along the street, back to the church.

‘Could he have gone into the woods?’ Pa asked.

‘It’s possible. He was quite upset when we found Eli’s hut locked up and barred yesterday. He’s his special friend, Jimmy always says.’

Just as Mrs D had warned, the wood was a scene of devastation: trees had fallen everywhere, and it was impossible to keep to the usual paths. The normally dry, springy floor was heavy going and in places so muddy that we struggled to stay on our feet. We hurried on, calling Jimmy’s name every few seconds. Towards the bottom of the hill, as we reached the path that led up to The Pines, I said, ‘Stay here, Pa, while I just nip to the top. It won’t take more than a few moments, and from there I might catch sight of that red mac of his.’

The once-proud stand of pines looked as if they’d been hit by a bomb. Of the ten or twelve ancient trees only three were left untouched and still standing. The others had either been felled completely, their great roots upturned, or their trunks snapped into sharp shards pointing accusingly to the sky, as though a giant had trampled through the copse wielding an enormous axe. The sight brought me close to tears: those trees had stood there for hundreds of years, marking the site of something important to the early inhabitants of the area. And now, overnight, they were gone.

There were further scenes of devastation in the other direction. The river had flooded, turning the water meadows into wide lakes. The woodland was ragged, as though that same giant had pushed the trees aside as he strode through it. I scoured the landscape until my eyes burned, but there was no sign of a red mac.