Fred’s contact was a farming friend with too many acres and not enough demand for his wild deer. He also let him fish in his trout pond with no charge. Fred watched as Joe warmed his hands by the range fire and didn’t take off his coat. He sensed a shadow in his friend’s energy. It wasn’t uncommon for Fred to read people in this way: he’d been doing it all his life, until finally he’d found a way to harness it and control it, by welcoming Mother Nature to his soul. She’d shown him that he possessed a gift: an endowment from the extra dimension, and a talent that was easily wasted and ignored in today’s skin-deep modern world.

He waited. His friend would offload in his own time. Meanwhile, Bertha settled in her basket and the kettle began to whistle. Joe sat in an armchair and Fred busied himself with getting some ham out of the fridge and slicing some home-made bread. He lashed yellow butter on to each piece and topped it with a generous helping of ham. Joe hadn’t been asked if he’d like one: it was simply put in front of him. Like many of the ancient traditions, feeding and sharing was one of the more important methods of welcome, and so it was in Fred’s kitchen. Two steaming mugs of coffee were placed on the oak table and Fred finally sat down. He didn’t say anything. They munched their snack happily and sipped their hot drinks. They discussed the weather.

‘Farm tying up for equinox?’ Fred asked.

Joe had told Fred on a few occasions that he’d been tempted to join the group, and he’d come close. He had much in common with those who worshipped the seasons. Indeed, his life was ruled by the sun and the moon. But the idea of organised religion, no matter how small and discreet, put him off. Fred assured him that it wasn’t a religion, more of a way of life, a belief system by which to guide one’s own path through from birth to death. Just like the years, one grew and rested and bloomed and died, many times over until the final chapter. But with the earth, there was no final chapter, and that’s why it was so important to take advantage of the opportunity to unite with the earth, before expiry took hold and snuffed out the chance.

‘Callum’s studying for his GCSEs this year. It’s a scary prospect nowadays. They no longer have the luxury of an apprenticeship and then employment for life. It’s all about money.’

Fred nodded acknowledgement and lament at the same time. ‘What is he looking to do?’

‘A-Levels. I think he wants to be an accountant.’

Fred almost spat his coffee. ‘Christ alive, Joe! How did you produce such a capitalist?’

‘I know! Connor is the historian.’