‘Sorry to call unannounced. I didn’t have your number.’

‘The computer doesn’t work, hasn’t for a long time. No connection. Come in,’ she said, leading him into the farmhouse.

Inside was dark, though lights were on. They were in a darkened kitchen. A round-edged rectangular server-bot chopped vegetables, ignoring him. Ms Sutton pulled a chair from beneath the kitchen table. He sat.

‘Would you like a drink?’

‘Just tea, thanks. Any kind.’

‘I have fresh mint.’

‘Perfect,’ Alask said, watching the server-bot as Ms Sutton busied herself with the mint, running water into a pot, lighting the stove. ‘I could fix it.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

She turned, limp leaves in hand.

‘I could fix your connection. It wouldn’t take long.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘That’s very kind, Mr Barron.’

‘Call me Alask.’

‘Only if you call me Reno.’

He grinned. ‘Then I will.’

She boiled the water, poured it into mugs, and dunked the mint leaves. They sat in the dining room, which was larger than he’d imagined outside, at a long table that could have sat twenty, a large wood-burning fireplace opposite, roaring, windows on either side of the room that looked onto the gravel car park and back garden. She seemed more confident in her home than at the show, although she held her mug in both hands, staring at its contents while she spoke. He asked her about the performance, what she had enjoyed, about the farm, how long they had been there and what they produced. She asked him about his home town, the tour, how he found living on the road, his circus family, what they did when they were not performing. All through, Alask heard the steady thump of vegetables being chopped. It warmed him, somehow.

‘We bed down for the winter mostly,’ he said. ‘We have an old mansion house in Lepeag, plenty of room for all, lots of food. We rest mostly, hone our skills, try to live normal lives. Surf the net, watch movies, stuff ourselves silly, that type of thing.’

‘Sounds nice,’ she said. ‘The good kind of life.’ Her eyes were round and brown, expansive. Tender.

‘There are downsides. Local kids who want to run away with the circus know exactly where to find us. The mansion floorboards tend to creak. Meimo cuts his toenails in company. And Orpheus has pretty bad wind.’

She giggled, one hand against her mouth, young again.

‘Don’t all men suffer that?’

‘Oh, you haven’t seen anything like Orph. Or smelt it. I pray you never will.’

Reno laughed harder, then stopped. She grew serious. Alask watched her expression change and gripped his warm mug. Readied himself.

‘Why have you come?’ She frowned at her hands. ‘You’re welcome, of course, but you still haven’t said …’

He took a deep breath, plunged.

‘It’s your son. I’d like to talk about making him an offer. To join my circus, I mean.’