‘Ah, to what do I owe this pleasure, Joe?’ Fred asked. He opened the door wider for the ranger. He’d known Joe Spencer for almost ten years now, getting to know him through his passion for the environment and concern for the National Park. People assumed that the National Trust land would always be there: standing as it had for millions of years, arms open, and welcoming millions of visitors, year upon year, but actually the upkeep was a round-the-clock business. Sheep grazing, weather erosion and the hammering of paths by too many walking boots were the main enemies of rangers and lakes lovers.

‘Thought I’d drop in, Fred. I was passing.’ The younger man looked agitated, Fred noted, but he let it pass. Fred’s house was almost inside Whinlatter Forest, isolated and difficult to stumble across. Joe lived with his charming family on English Heritage land, on the edge of a working farm, near Troutbeck, on the A66 between Penrith and Keswick. Fred very much doubted that Joe was just passing. It had been a while since he’d seen his old friend, and Fred suspected that Annie didn’t know he was here.

‘Come in, can I get you a warm drink? The air has a bite, does it not? It’ll be soon Mabon, and we’ll be gathering the harvest. I can’t believe where the summer has gone. It seems only yesterday that we were celebrating May Day!’

‘I second that!’ Joe said, entering the house and taking off his boots.

‘Ah, leave those on, Joe. We don’t stand on ceremony here, not with these old flagstones. If there’s anything of interest on the bottom of your shoe, Bertha will get it.’ Bertha was Fred’s black Labrador, and she was as sharp as a whippet when a morsel dropped in front of her nose.

‘I can hear her,’ Joe said. Fred nodded and led the way to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the door, the warmth from the range leaked out into the corridor and caressed them, and Bertha affectionately thrust her nose into Joe’s crotch.

‘Bertha!’ Fred shooed her away but Joe welcomed and petted her. The dog’s tail swished to and fro and Fred negotiated his way around her to put the kettle on the fire.

‘It’s been a while, Fred. How are the grandkids?’

‘Ah, we’re all good. It’s good to see you. You must bring Annie and the boys for Sunday lunch, how about this weekend?’

Joe hesitated, but only for a second. ‘I’ll have to check with Annie. I think I have an early shift but I’ll be done by around two, will that do?’

‘Of course! I’ll have to confirm with her indoors, but I’ll stick my neck out and say it’s grand. I’ll have a quiet word with you-know-who and get a fresh hind of venison.’