Ellen made sure Dora was off up the stairs before she ran back to the outer door, unlocked it, quickly locked it behind her and rushed out into the courtyard. She’d definitely felt the presence of someone along the drive, and who would be hiding in the dark except someone up to no good? She opened the door of the building where Gina played with Coco on wet days, and grabbed the broom handle she used for the puppy’s high jump, then ran as fast as she could back round to the drive. There was no one in sight on the gravel and, ahead of her, she could see Tom briefly silhouetted by the light from his sitting room as he opened then closed his door.

Mebbe it were nowt. Mebbe, like Mum, I’m just feeling a bit jumpy.

Ellen slowed her breathing and stood quite still, looking all round, clutching the broom handle in white knuckles. All was quiet. There was no one there but her.

Suddenly there was the distant but unmistakable sound of breaking glass. At first Ellen thought it was one of the house windows, but all were closed and dark, at least at this side. The Stellions would be in bed by now.

I’ll get Uncle Tom and we’ll go and check together. I can’t leave it …

She turned back towards the Lodge and saw, through the little latticed window by the side gate, flames dancing up.

‘Uncle Tom!’ Instantly Ellen was racing down the drive to the Lodge. When she got there she could see Tom and her father struggling in a vicious fight as the flames leaped beside them.

Ellen barged open the door and, with the advantage of surprise and having seen where in the room her father was, she set about him with the broom handle as hard as she could thrash, hitting him over and over as he left off his struggle with Tom and tried to evade her blows.

‘That’s from Gina, you beast! And that’s from me! And this … and this … and these are from Mum …’

Philip sank to his knees under the onslaught of her attack, cowering and covering his head as Ellen rained down more blows, pitilessly, regardless of the fire, which Tom was now dousing with water from the flower vase Dora had filled for him earlier, then a pan of water grabbed from his tiny kitchen.

Eventually Philip collapsed on the floor and Ellen stood over him, breathing hard.

‘Oh God, Uncle Tom, do you think I’ve killed him?’ she gasped, seeing her father lying battered and still.

Tom stamped out the last flame that was flickering in the smouldering rug and bent to examine the man on the floor. Seconds went by and Ellen stood helplessly, her hand to her mouth in horror at what she had done.