“Rescue me?” I try to keep a straight face. “I see. Did you think that I needed rescuing?”

“Yes, well.” He grimaces, lifting a hand to his nose. “I didn’t realize you were going to turn into a bloody madwoman, did I?”

I decide it’s best not to pay attention to this fit of the sullens, but instead to concentrate on the matter at hand. I take a step closer to him.

“What are you doing?” He leaps back, alarmed; the backs of his legs hit the bench and it clatters against the wall behind him.

“Nothing to worry about,” I say soothingly. “I just need to feel your nose.”

“Feel my nose?” His outrage is so comical that I can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out, which only makes him look even more thunderous.

“Yes,” I say. “I’ll just check it isn’t broken. You’re probably concerned about your face.” I tilt my head on one side. “It is very pretty.”

His mouth drops open at this, and he makes a spluttering noise as though he can’t find the words he wants. Taking advantage of his confusion, I reach up and take hold of his nose.

We stand there for a moment, as I check his perfect face for damage, and as I do so I can’t help thinking how odd this is. All my life, I’ve only ever had polite, dull conversations with boys my age – and if I ever try to be anything other than polite and dull, the response is usually blind terror, as with Cuthbert. But Ben has talked back to me. It hasn’t exactly been friendly talk, but in a strange way that’s what makes it so enjoyable.

He clears his throat and I realize my hands are still on his face.

“Not even broken,” I say, stepping back. “You remain symmetrical.”

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed.”

“I’ve never really punched someone like that before,” I explain. “I learned it from a book, you see, rather than from any practical experience.” I glance down at my fingers. “Honestly, I hoped I’d be capable of doing a bit more damage.”

“Believe me, the damage was more than sufficient.” He shoots me another dark look.

“I’m sure it hurts less than my hand does,” I say. “And you don’t see me making a fuss.”

Ben’s eyes dart to my bruised knuckles and, for a second, I think he’s going to show concern for my own injuries. Then, to my surprise, he smirks. “Serves you right.”

He reaches down and picks up the bag that has caused so many problems and slings it over his shoulder.