The other boys were calling him. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. But let’s meet up sometime.’

‘That’d be nice,’ I said to his departing back.

At least someone liked me.

Jimmy and I stayed late at the fete, helping to fold up the trestle tables and trundle them on wheelbarrows back to the village hall, then picking up every scrap of litter off the grass. By the time we left, the sports ground had been returned to a pristine swathe of green, as though the fete had never taken place.

‘Had a nice time, Jim?’ I asked, as we walked the short distance home.

‘Yup.’ He skipped ahead, trying to chase our shadows, made twice the length in the low sun. The air was still warm, growing thicker as it always appears to towards sunset after a hot day, and I felt as happy as I’d ever been since our move to the village. Kit hadn’t turned up, which was disappointing, but I’d been helpful all day and Mrs D was full of praise. Jimmy had been well behaved, on the whole. And Pa had seemed relaxed and cheerful – I’d spied him smiling as he chatted to groups of parishioners. Best of all, I’d made a new friend. Perhaps things were taking a turn for the better.

Several days later I was upstairs at my dressing table, trying out different hairstyles, when the doorbell rang. There was nothing unusual in that, the vicarage was full of comings and goings – parishioners seeking moral or religious guidance, church staff needing practical advice, others arriving for meetings.

It was usually possible to tell who it was, even before opening the door: parishioners gave a single discreet knock that could easily be missed; church colleagues knocked jauntily, sometimes a rhythmic tap-tappy-tap-tap; important diocesan people gave a confidently firm double knock. The likes of Blackman and his cronies leaned on the bell and brayed importantly on the porch as they waited.

This one was different: three short, gentle rings, like the start of a piece of classical music. ‘Get that, someone, please,’ I heard Pa shouting from his study, followed by Jimmy’s footsteps clomping to the front door.

Then I heard Mrs D. ‘Can I help you, young man?’

‘Er . . . I’ve come to see Molly.’ It was Robert. ‘Are you free to take a walk?’

I turned to Mrs D. ‘Is that okay? Do you mind keeping an eye on Jimmy, for an hour or so?’

Mrs D sighed but she was smiling too, so I knew it was all right. ‘If your father agrees, it’s fine with me. Just for a while, though, Missy. I’m off home to give Mr Diamond his lunch at half twelve.’

It was still only ten o’clock. ‘You’ll hardly notice I’m gone,’ I said, with an ever-so-grateful smile.