Then Marcus Grenville had decided that Vic needed an under-keeper. At first Vic dug in his heels and refused to have one. He was deeply suspicious of Grenville’s motives in making the appointment and thought Craven would be there as some kind of spy. He had known Danny Craven since he was a child and had never taken to him. He had been the son of one of the estate workers, brash, cocky, always showing off. But Marcus Grenville had been determined and had called Vic into the Estate Office to discuss it.

‘Look,’ he had said in that soft, appeasing voice that Victor had heard him use on the television, talking to eager young reporters about the state of the Tory Party. ‘I’d like you to give the man a chance. I know he was wild as a boy but that was years ago. He’s been working for five years on an estate on Exmoor, running some of the shoots for them. His references are very reliable.’

‘If he’s that clever,’ Vic had said, ‘why’s he interested in a job as under-keeper? You’d think he’d want to be in charge somewhere.’

Especially Craven, he had thought. Craven had always been an arrogant bastard.

Marcus Grenville had opened his arms expansively. ‘ Vic,’ he had said. ‘He wants to come home. I’m sure you can understand that.’

Not Danny Craven, Vic had thought. He couldn’t wait to get out of the valley. His sister had been the same. She’d left for London as soon as she finished at Appleworth Tech. The whole family had wanderlust.

‘I don’t need an under-keeper,’ Vic said firmly. ‘ I can manage on my own.’

‘I’m not asking your opinion, Liddle,’ Marcus Grenville had said, testily. ‘The decision has already been taken. Danny Craven starts on the first of February.’

So Danny Craven had moved into the Lodge by the east gate and Vic could see no sign that his years away had made him more responsible. He was in his early thirties but he looked much the same as he had when he was a boy. His dark hair was still a little too long, his voice a little too loud. He acted as if he owned the place. Marie said it was all show, bravado. Danny Craven had always been a coward, she said. He was the same age as her younger sister. He’d always been one for teasing the girls, but if you stood up to him he’d run away.

Well, Vic thought. It was time to stand up to him. In the wood the hammering stopped.

‘Hello!’ Craven shouted. ‘Who is it?’ He must have heard Vic’s footsteps or the dog snuffling through the leaves.