Perhaps it was the guilt that made it hard to stop being angry. As we walked back to the village I continued to berate him. ‘Why did you go back to the house? You know I told you to stay with the boys?’

No reply.

‘You must do what I tell you, Jimmy, or you can’t come here with me again.’

‘Don’ want to.’

‘You like Kit, don’t you? He’s been lovely to us. Teaching you to row.’

‘They said . . .’

‘Said what?’

No reply.

‘Kit? Was it something Kit said that upset you?’

No answer.

‘Who? Was it Robert?’

‘Not Robert. The others.’

We were nearly home. I stopped and made him sit on the low wall of the churchyard. ‘What did they say, Jimmy? Come on, this is important.’

‘I wanted to play . . .’

He sniffed. I looked at him, shocked to see a tear on his cheek. Jimmy hardly ever cried. I threw my arms round him, holding him tight. It didn’t matter what had been said, and who’d said it. I would defend my brother to the death, however annoying he might be.

Through his sobs I heard, ‘They said . . . I’m stupid.’

His words were like a stab to my heart. ‘You’re not stupid, Jimmy,’ I shouted. ‘You’re different, that’s all. Whoever said that is the stupid one, because they don’t understand what a lovely, special person you are.’

‘Said . . . go ’way.’

‘They told you to go away?’

He nodded. ‘I wanted to play.’

‘And they said you couldn’t play with them?’

His little face crumpled. I felt helpless, unable to make things better. How wrong it is, that old saw: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. In my experience, words can cut deeper and hurt for longer, and no amount of sticking plaster will heal the wound. The only remedy is distraction. ‘Come on, let’s get home. Are you hungry, even after all those biscuits?’

Jimmy nodded, smiling now.

‘Okay. I’ll make you a sandwich – how’s that?’

‘Honey?’

‘Honey it is.’

It must have been like this all his life, I supposed – feeling different – although I could never be entirely sure how aware of it he was. The only time Jimmy felt really at home was with me and Pa, and with his pals at the special school. And now, of course, with Kit. In other company he was always at a bit of a loss.