It must have been a prodigious fall. The material is blotched all over with dirt as if it has been trampled underfoot. One tear is a crescent shape and the other gapes wide at the shoulder; the sleeve is almost hanging off.

Her anger flicks quickly to worry.

‘Darling! Are you hurt?’

He glances up as if it is a foolish question.

‘Come here. Give me that. That’s it dear, take it off.’ She coaxes him out of the coat, both relieved and amazed that she cannot see any bruises on him. He is unharmed – that is the important part – but she cannot help grieving over the garment. She does not want to ask Simon to pay for another; she must sew it up as best she can.

She drapes the ruined coat over her arm and places a hand upon his head. ‘This is precisely what I mean, my love. I do not scold to be cruel, but for your own good. Please be more careful. I do not know what I would do if something were to happen to you …’ A chilling possibility occurs to her. ‘It was a fall, Cedric? No one pushed you, did they?’

He looks a little tearful. Her heart clenches. It is one thing for a killer to victimise her practice, but if they were to touch Cedric …

‘I’m sure it was my fault,’ he whispers.

Please God, let him be right. For if this assailant really is trying to take the things that she loves, it makes sense that they would move on to her family after her art. The idea makes her feel like she is in the river again, fighting desperately for breath, but poor tattered Cedric gazes remorsefully at her and she does not want to give him further cause for fright. She dredges up a wobbly smile. ‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘Look what I have for you here.’

‘Food?’

‘Almost as good, my dear: money.’ She pretends to produce a coin from behind his ear. ‘Why don’t you run to the Cross Keys and see if they have any pork pies left? And could you pick up an ounce of tea from Mr Asprey for your grandmamma?’

His troubled face lights into a grin. When she sees that smile, nothing else in the world seems to matter.

‘Thank you, Auntie Aggie.’

He seizes the coin but makes sure to leave the house more slowly than usual, showing her that he has heeded her warnings.

Agnes lets her false smile drop. Her lips purse in worry instead. At least she knows where Cedric is going, and he is familiar to the tradespeople he will be buying from: they will keep an eye on him. But if her fears are correct, she will not be able to let him gad about with his hoop and stick any longer. She must keep him indoors.