‘I think it is the beginning of growing up,’ he said.
We sat very still for a long time, holding hands and not speaking. The butterflies had fluttered away, but the sun shone just as brightly; birds were singing in the willows by the stream, and somewhere up by the house the dogs were barking.
‘Can you bear it, Hugo?’ I asked at last.
And he answered:
‘I don’t know. They will try and take away my inside world, and perhaps they will take it away, and then what can I do?’
I said:
‘Our inside worlds are too private for that. They wouldn’t know about them at a place like school.’
He said:
‘I have thought of that. One might keep it quite hidden away and pretend.’
I said: