Suddenly, miraculously, gloriously – Bert sits up.

We all laugh with enormous relief.

‘Why did you do it, you crazy girl?’ I’m asking through smiley tears.

She looks at me sheepishly. ‘Because I wanted to give us a Christmas, Kicky. Make it happen, for us Caddy kids. Dinda had wrapped some presents. The ones on her windowsill. I looked through the binoculars – they had our names on them. I just wanted to make everything all right. For Pin. For all of us.’

Bert comes over to me and cuddles me tight, so tight it hurts. ‘I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m so stupid.’

‘No, no. You’re glorious . . . inventive . . . kind!’ I stroke her beautiful hair, which tonight has several ropes of pearls threaded through it. ‘Why do you hate me so much, girl hero?’ I murmur.

‘Because . . . because Daddy will come back and say he loves you the most. Say you’re his favourite because you do everything for us and always make everything right. I just wanted to do something too. That’s all. You’re always so together, perfect.’

‘Oh, pet, no. If only you knew.’ It’s the name that Mum used to call her, and has never been used since, in fact I’d forgotten it until now.

She sobs, and sobs, in my arms.

‘Basti’s not moving,’ Scruff interrupts.

We all look. I bite my lip. No, not this, not now. He has to be all right.

Gently Dinda drops down to her neighbour. ‘Seb, it’s Din. Speak to us, come on.’

He looks horribly bruised, there are cuts and scratches on his arms and face; his left ankle looks wonky and wrong.

‘We shouldn’t shift him –’ I bite a nail ‘– he might have damaged his back.’

Dinda gulps a sob.

‘Wake up, Uncle Basti, come on!’ Scruff cries impatiently.

Nothing. It can’t come to this. We’ve just found him, he’s just saved our sister, we’ve finally got the uncle we’d dreamt of.

‘He’s a good man,’ Dinda says softly, through tears, ‘a good, good man. Everyone in this square knows that. All the old people. They remember him. Tell their kids, their grandkids of the war hero who got lost. How as a little boy he used to climb that tree every day of his life. Once. Long ago . . .’ A pause. ‘Then one day –’

Wait! He’s stirring, ever so slightly, his mouth.

‘Dinda, look.’

Pin leaps forward; we go to haul him away but he wraps his arms around Basti’s neck. ‘He’s mine,’ he says, cross. ‘He’s my friend.’ The little boy leans down and smacks a kiss on Basti’s cheek.

Nothing. So still. So quiet.

Pin kisses him again and gently lifts off his hat.

Basti stirs. Opens one eye. ‘Captain!’ he reprimands, as his hat almost makes it to Pin’s head. ‘There’s life in the old boy yet.’

We all cheer. Enormous relief, whooshing right through us.

‘I’m the captain and I’m invins-iple!’ Pin declares as the hat finds its place on its new head.

‘Indestructible, more like it.’ Basti winces, slowly, painfully, retrieving what is his and returning it to its rightful place. Everyone laughs. ‘First of all, my princess. How is she? Intact?’

Bert laughs. ‘Gosh, yes. Absolutely yes. Not quite a ghost yet.’

‘As much as you’d like to be, perhaps?’

‘Not quite, Basti. I won’t be trying that trick again.’

‘Excellent!’

Slowly Dinda helps Basti into a sit, checking him over, rubbing his ankle, which is swelling, bruised. Bert steps forward and crushes him in a hug then, what the heck, we all do.

‘Ouch!’ he says, and we spring back. ‘No, keep on doing it,’ Basti sighs in defeat, ‘but gently. It’s been quite some time since that tree was scaled. A little weight may have been gained in the interim.’

One by one we drop back, leaving him holding just Pin. Holding him as if that little boy is the most precious thing in the world right now, as if he’s never going to let him go.

‘Come on, Dinda, we need to hear more about that little boy who climbed the tree every day of his life,’ Scruff jumps in cheekily. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Wha-at?’ Basti looks alarmed.

Dinda grimaces. ‘I was just telling them about you and the tree. To my nursery. Every day. As a kid. The champion tree-climber of the universe. Not only this one but every single tree in Holland Park. Remember?’

Basti’s shaking his head in warning but it’s not enough. We’re urging, ‘Come on, come on, tell us!’

‘Well, one day the Grand Master Tree-Climber of London decided to do a very grown-up thing. Which shocked everyone in this square. He signed up. To fight. For king and country. Even though he was far, far too young. But he wanted to be a big, brave soldier, the biggest, bravest war hero they’d ever seen. That’s what he said to me. It was why he would be going away for a very, very long time. I just didn’t know how long, did I?’ She looks straight at him; his head is bowed. ‘They should know, Seb,’ she says gently. ‘They need to. But big, brave Basti Caddy was just a boy. He lied about his age.’

‘Why?’ Scruff asks.

‘Because he loved his country so much, and felt like it was the most honourable, most exciting thing he could ever do. He didn’t want to miss out.’

‘I wouldn’t either!’ Scruff says, eyes shining.

Dinda smiles sadly. ‘He somehow slipped through the net. As so many did. And he told his next-door neighbour – who was his very best friend in the world – all about it in utter secrecy. How he was going to come back the biggest, bravest hero in the world, with this enormous row of medals across his chest. That he’d be a general by the end of it – she just had to wait. You see, she was his – how do I say it – girl next door . . .’

A glittery silence. Basti doesn’t look up.

‘Who loved him very much.’ A tear rolls down her cheek. ‘Who never stopped loving him, actually.’

Basti shuts his eyes tight.

‘Who thought he loved her.’

Everyone is very, very quiet. I put my arms across my uncle’s shoulders and hold him, and hold him. Can feel his trembling. I squeeze firmer.

‘Oh, you should have seen this one as a kid.’ Dinda smiles, composing herself. ‘He was a shining boy. With the biggest heart. The one destined for greatness, the whole neighbourhood knew it. The best cricket player, horse rider, the square’s conkers champion, Dux, Head Boy of his prep school, the best at . . . everything. The golden child who chose me – me – to entrust with his secret, beyond anyone else.’ A pause. ‘I never breathed a word at the time. I wish I had now. Because he came back quite . . . changed.’

Basti doesn’t move. Neither does Dinda. What to say? Nothing and everything.

‘Look, Kicky!’ Pin exclaims, pointing at the window that caused all the trouble in the first place. ‘Christmas!’

‘That’s what I was aiming for,’ Bert says quietly. ‘For all of us.’

Everyone’s now staring up at the magnificently wrapped presents in the window, sitting there so enticingly. Dinda laughs. ‘And would you believe it, I’ve just been waiting for you lot to appear to hand them out. Why don’t you come in now? I for one need a stiff drink after all this. Anyone else?’

‘Me!’ Scruff declares.

‘No.’ Basti winces, standing painfully.

Dinda reaches across to help him.

‘Stop.’ He bats her away angrily, still in great pain. ‘Leave me alone.’ As if he can’t bear it. What she’s just said, the invitation to her house, everyone listening out here to the perplexing history of his life. Everything changing so fast and Basti not in control of any of it. ‘I have to get the children home. It’s late,’ he barks and limps off painfully into the foggy dark, scooping up a stunned Perdita on the way without a backwards glance.

Just like that.

As if he can’t deal with what’s just been said, can’t respond, can’t face it. The truth, the past. And it’s been years and years of not being able to face it. What’s he afraid of letting in? Why is he so stuck?

We can do nothing but follow. I look back despairingly at Dinda, at her crestfallen, broken face. It’s not meant to be like this.

‘Goodnight,’ I say softly.

She raises a hand in lonely farewell, a picture of sadness as she stares after the man next door; the man, we know now, she has loved her entire life, and has never stopped loving.

Who does not look back.