Cooper began to shake his head and opened his mouth to shout at her again. But Fry was distracted by a vibration in the ground, the impression of an earthquake approaching from behind. She turned and saw double doors open and a great bellowing rush of animals burst through the gap into the passage where she was standing. The heaving beasts filled the entire width of the passageway as they barrelled towards her.

Fry spun to her left and found a section of brick wall and a six-foot wide pen that had long since lost its gate. She dodged into the pen as the cattle reached her, but found one of the animals following her blindly, barged aside by the rush of its companions. It was frightened and angry, and it swung its head from side to side, catching her clothes with the sharp points of its horns. She backed against the wall, braced herself and lashed out with a kick, which landed on the animal’s heavily muscled shoulder. It hardly seemed to notice.

Now the beast was confused. It slipped and lurched around the pen, making Fry jump to keep her feet out of the way of its hooves. She smacked it twice on the nose with her fist. It shook its head, and backed off. She took the opportunity to leap out of the way over the nearest gate and into the next pen, where she slipped on the damp floor, twisted her ankle and fell flat on her back.

She became aware of Ben Cooper standing over her. She was infuriated to see a smile playing across his face as he looked down at her.

‘Actually, I shouted “bullocks”,’ he said.

The driver of the transporter had appeared and joined Cooper on the loading bay as the cattle thundered up the ramp into the wagon. He watched in amazement as Fry clambered from pen to pen.

‘You could hurt yourself doing that,’ he said.

Looking around for someone to blame, Fry saw a dark-haired youth in a pair of green wellingtons coming towards her.

‘I nearly got trampled by those animals then,’ she said. ‘Aren’t there any precautions?’

The youth merely chortled, flapping uneven teeth at her as he passed. Behind him, Abel Pilkington himself glowered from the wall of the sale ring, hooking his thumbs through the braces of his overalls.

‘Any fool knows not to stand in the passages when cattle’s being moved. How did you get in?’ he said.

‘Through the loading bay.’

‘Well, you’ve no right. There’s signs, you know. Authorized persons only past this point, they say.’

The dark-haired youth had connected a thick hose to a tap. A high-pressure jet began to hit the ground where the cattle had passed, and water cascaded down the passageway. Fry had to raise her voice above the noise, but Pilkington seemed used to it.

‘We’re looking for Keith Teasdale,’ she said.