He had met her first when a party of Animal Rights Activists had come on to the estate to protest at the annual New Year’s Hunt which always began from the Cadver. His father was away and he had been sent, imperiously, by his mother to deal with the protesters. He had made some unconvincing threats to call the police, then stood awkwardly watching, as if he, not they, were the impostor.

He had not noticed Eve at first. She was not one of the ringleaders. When the hunt moved off, the group had followed in a shouting, uncoordinated mob, but she had remained behind to talk to him. It had been freezing and he remembered that there had been ice on the edge of the reservoir. Against the frosted lawn she looked robust and healthy with dark wiry hair and cheeks red from the cold. She was wearing green cord trousers and a Barbour jacket, so she might have been one of the hunt followers, except for the anti-blood sports badge on her lapel.

‘Aren’t you going with them?’ she had asked, nodding towards the red coats and the horses disappearing up the drive.

‘No,’ he had said, lamely. ‘ I don’t hunt myself, actually.’ He did not tell her that it frightened him.

‘Why do you allow it to happen on your land, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ he had said. ‘Tradition, I suppose. My great-grandfather was very keen. And it’s not my land. It’s my father’s.’

‘Does that make a difference?’ she had asked. ‘You run the place, don’t you?’

Oh yes, he had thought. It makes all the difference in the world.

Then he had turned to her.

‘What about you? Aren’t you going to join your friends?’

‘They’re not my friends, actually,’ she said, mimicking the expression of his voice. Then, smiling. ‘Most of them are pains in the arse. I’ve made my protest. I don’t see the point in chasing round the countryside getting cold.’

‘Where do you live?’ he had asked.

‘Appleworth,’ she had said. ‘I’m a teacher. I work in the special school there.’

‘You work with handicapped kids?’

She had nodded.

He had been going to say that she must know Cassie Liddle then, but she turned her back on him.

‘I’d better get started,’ she said. ‘It’s a long walk. I came in the mini-bus with the others.’

‘Oh no,’ he had said suddenly. ‘Don’t walk. I’ll give you a lift.’

She had turned back and smiled. ‘I don’t know. It might be seen as a gift from the opposition. I’d be accused of being bought off by the enemy.’

‘Oh well,’ he had said uncertainly. He had never been very good with women. Perhaps she couldn’t be bothered with him and wanted an excuse. ‘I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.’