“Rafe, blonde, blue-eyed, dimpled, sauntered past Agata, before running across the long landing into his room. Agata knew very well what floated for her in the toilet bowl of the large first floor bathroom. The first time it happened, Agata put it down to the general thoughtlessness of little boys, and the second time to their general unpleasantness. She once had a little brother of her own, so knew all about their farts and nose-pickings, and where they liked to keep their hands. This time, Agata decided to speak to the child’s mother.”
