‘They can’t’ve gone far or they’d have taken the dog,’ said Nick.

They walked across the yard and through a wooden door into a walled garden. At the far end, bending over something, were two women. The smaller one looked about the same age as Stephen’s own mother, with thick hair in a centre parting and very straight features: this must be Celia. Her daughter was significantly taller, with a ripple of long hair that wasn’t blonde, but wasn’t exactly dark either. As they came closer Stephen saw that she was wearing a cheesecloth shirt with pastel stripes, tied in a knot at the waist. She wore jeans and plimsolls and there were two strands of small, multi-coloured beads around her neck. But the main thing about her was that she was beautiful. She was as beautiful as any girl he’d ever seen before. She had the kind of beauty that you saw on the posters advertising foreign films. She looked sophisticated, not like a country girl; not like someone you’d have the chance to actually talk to. She was the sort of girl you’d expect to just catch a passing glimpse of, in a city street or at an airport.

Stephen hadn’t prepared for beauty, he hadn’t been expecting it, and the force of it hit him like a physical blow. It wasn’t really a nice sensation. He felt a little bit hoodwinked. Nick had collected him from the train and shown him around and everything, but he hadn’t warned him of this, hadn’t even hinted at it; and now Stephen didn’t have time to collect his features and stop himself from gawking at her.

‘Hi, I’m Cass,’ she said, stepping towards him.

Stephen felt himself blushing and hated himself for not being cool enough to greet her as if she was normal.

‘And I’m Celia,’ said her mother. ‘Everything OK? Get here all right?’

‘Yeah. Thanks. It’s a beautiful place you’ve got here.’

Celia inclined her head in a slightly regal way, as if she were accustomed to praise.

‘Cass can show you round, show you where you’re sleeping,’ Celia suggested.

Nick had already done both, but Stephen didn’t say so and the older man gave no sign of having heard.

‘Sure,’ said Cass. Stephen wasn’t going to say no: he wasn’t going to say anything until he could feel his blush dissolving.

‘Right, well, I might grab an hour in the studio, before dinner,’ said Nick.

‘You two carry on, I’m going to finish training these sweet peas,’ said Celia.

Cass began to walk back towards the house and Stephen followed, a couple of steps behind her. She didn’t walk like a film star. She had a sort of trudge, head forward, that was reassuringly like a human girl.