‘Thought so. You seem the brainy type.’ Was that code for ‘boring’? It was hard to tell. ‘I failed the eleven-plus, so they shipped me off to boarding school,’ he went on. ‘Actually I didn’t mind. It was more fun than being stuck here.’

In the pause I could hear Mrs Waddington explaining to Pa how it had come as something of a surprise when she’d inherited the Hall, after her elder brother – a pilot in the war – was shot down and her father died of a heart attack a few months later.

‘Which is why we are so keen to create some kind of memorial for him, aren’t we, darling?’ She looked across to her husband for confirmation. ‘And we were wondering whether the church authorities might consider a new stained-glass window – you know, to replace one of those blown out in the war?’

So this was why we had been invited to tea, with the elegant sandwiches and the beautifully decorated cakes. I watched Pa’s face working, as he sought the right response.

‘That sounds like a splendid idea,’ he said. ‘Although, of course, the church has a number of rather pressing demands on its finances at present, as I’m sure you’re aware.’

‘Oh no,’ she said, more earnestly now. ‘We wouldn’t ask the church to pay for it. We are offering to foot all the bills: design, creation, installation. My friend Melissa has already offered to do the design for us, and I’m sure she’ll come up with something delightful.’

‘Mrs Blackman?’

‘She’s a very talented artist, you know. It would be our memorial to my beloved brother, David.’ Her voice wavered to a whisper.

After a second, in his best clerical consolation voice (I swear they teach it at vicar college), Pa said, ‘We are so sorry for your loss, Mrs Waddington. And this is such a generous offer. I am sure we should be able to ease the way forward with the diocese to make it come to fruition. Leave it with me.’ She looked at him like an adoring angel at Christ’s crib, as though she might simply collapse into his arms. In the uneasy silence that fell over the room, Kit glanced at me and raised an eyebrow in such a comical way I nearly giggled.

All this while Jimmy had been sitting quietly beside me on the sofa. He’d been on his very best behaviour, drinking his barley water and eating his sandwiches in a remarkably civilised way. Sometimes he did this awful gobbling, stuffing food into his mouth as fast as possible and then chewing with his mouth open. But that day he was perfect, and I loved him for it.