Leach turned and marched towards the house. They began to follow him, gradually closing the distance.

‘Stay here,’ snapped Leach, and slammed the door behind him.

They had no option but to wait until Leach came back. A ginger tom cat strolled across the yard and stared at them. The cat was scrawny, its ears bitten. But it was a farm cat, used to fending for itself and finding its own food in the dark corners of the buildings, used to fighting its own battles against rats, dogs and other cats. Cooper clicked his tongue at it and held out his hand in a friendly gesture. But the cat ignored him.

Fry walked over to look at the house. She found some black plastic bin liners by the back door that were split and bursting with rubbish. She looked at Cooper and screwed up her nose. There was a lace curtain across the window which prevented her from seeing in.

When Leach returned, he had a letter which he pushed in front of Cooper’s face.

‘Yes, divorce proceedings,’ said Leach. ‘What do you think of that?’

Fry found herself behind Leach, near the open door of the farmhouse. Out of the corner of his eye, Cooper saw her stand on the step and push the door open a bit more so that she could see inside, being careful not to enter.

Cooper wrote down the name and address of Mrs Leach’s solicitor in his notebook.

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Leach. What about the boys? It’s always tough on the children.’

Leach stared at him suspiciously, but said nothing.

‘That’s all I need for now, sir, thank you,’ said Cooper.

Leach turned suddenly, moving quickly for a big man, and saw Fry standing in his doorway. The expression on her face seemed to infuriate him.

‘Bitch!’

Leach hurled himself across the few yards that separated him from Fry. He was like a charging bull, and looked likely to flatten her against the wall. Cooper reacted too slowly, reached out and tried to grab his belt, but missed. He saw Fry step away from the door, giving herself a bit of clear space, flexing her leg to test the strength of her injured knee. She put out her left hand, her palm facing out towards Leach like a traffic officer. It looked like an appeal, a feeble defensive gesture, but Cooper knew it was her weak hand that she was offering as she adjusted the balance of her body.

Leach threw a vicious punch. His fist whistled past Fry’s shoulder as she blocked his elbow with her right forearm. She jabbed her heel into the back of his knee and he hit the ground heavily, rolling on to his face in the muck left by the cows.

‘Ouch,’ said Fry, as she stumbled, rubbing her ankle. ‘That damn cattle market has something to answer for.’