I am walking on Jack Turnbull’s place, the neighbour I never see. He and his wife, Ruth, are away a lot, and have managed to give people the impression that they would rather not live around here. It’s a form of insult, even if unintended. When I am halfway across the wheat paddock, a spotlight lights up white out of nowhere, and sweeps across the earth towards me. I dive forward, and flatten myself, hoping the furrow will shield me. The light pans the paddock, glides over the top of me, and is gone. I begin to breathe again, and the dirt sticks in small clods around my mouth. Now I can hear the diesel throb of a vehicle in low gear. It is distant, so whoever it is must be on the edge of the paddock, avoiding driving all over Jack’s faultless plantings. Then the light swings back, and I try to sink into the dirt, wondering if they are the kind of mad city shooters who take pot shots at anything that moves. The beam disappears, and I find myself whispering my hope that they have given up. But I barely finish getting the words out when a boom in the air, followed by a thudding sound ahead of me, momentarily lifts me out of my slough and bangs my heart against the sides of my chest. For someone who wants to die, I am showing a commendable fear of being collateral damage.

I shut my eyes, and lie still for maybe ten minutes. My breathing is still loud, but I can no longer hear the engine. If I walk again in this open paddock before they are gone, there is the risk that their spotlight will find me accidentally, maybe on the back swing. I stay down a little longer, and think, Be calm. Eventually, I’m sure I hear the vehicle in the distance, moving away from me. I put my head up as though I’m engaged in trench warfare, and see no vehicle and no lights. I get slowly to my knees, ready for the crack of a rifle and a sudden, searing pain. When neither happens, I stride out again, alert to the palest reflection of man-made light.

I walk for another half an hour until I get to Elaine’s machinery sheds near her house. All the lights are off except at the house, and as usual it is lit up as if there is excess electricity in the world that needs to be used up. There are no cars out the front, which might mean no visitors, and indicates that the security guard has been given the night off. I take a spot in close, pushed into the hedge, where I can see Elaine and not be exposed by the lights of any car that turns up.