Ethel went on, with sturdy good sense, ‘I ain’t simple. I’d kept my rabbits; I’d seen dogs; but that was different, and I made up my mind, there and then, I wasn’t going to hev no truck with such goings on. Funny thing was, though I knew the belt the minute I see it, I’d never thought of Miss Thorby. . . .’

‘You’ve been a very brave, very determined girl, Ethel.’

‘I didn’t hev no choice. Prancing about there with nothing on, and then that with whoever they fix on to do it. And there’s another thing, too. Once that happen, you belong. You can’t help yourself. You just go on and on. Take my gran. In her way, she’s fond of me; lot kinder about letting me hev my way and so on than Audrey’s mum, f’rinstance; but over this one thing – why, she’d watch me cut into little bits. She’d do the . . .’

Ethel broke off and, turning her head from side to side, sniffed the air.

‘Miss, do you smell burning? I do!’

Miss Mayfield stood up and, unable to turn her head, faced about. The square in the loft floor at the head of the stairs seemed to be very faintly illuminated, and as she watched, a skein of grey smoke looped down, hung for a moment and was sucked back.

I should have known, she said to herself. Of course they wouldn’t give up so easily. Miss Thorby had said, ‘Then you have only yourself to thank for what happens now. And Ethel’s blood will be on your hands.’

‘I’ll go up and see how much hold it has taken. I might be able to stamp it out. You can come just to the top of the stairs, Ethel, and hold the torch.’

‘I shall come with you. If it’s stamping . . .’ She then used a word which Miss Mayfield, who had never heard it before, could only guess was an oath. ‘Got no shoes. Here, I’ll take this and give it a bash!’ She snatched the mackintosh bag from which Miss Mayfield had taken the spare cardigan.

They climbed the stairs; Miss Mayfield, feeling weak and unsteady, clutched at the wall with her left hand. At the top, Ethel pushed alongside her and gave the verdict.

‘Too big for stamping on. I see what they done. Poked sticks and things through that slit up there and then chucked in a light. Paraffin rag, I shouldn’t wonder. I can smell it. Now what’re we going to do?’

‘I don’t know, Ethel. I just don’t know.’