They wandered down the narrow lane, spotting another three figures made from metal before they found another turn-off. This one led straight into a field, the grass snipped down to make a tidy path, and in the middle of it was a caravan and a shed. The shed doors were open wide, and it was possible to see a jumble of machinery and tools, half-finished statues and what appeared to be a very elderly car in the midst of being reduced to its parts. The caravan was old too, but clean and shiny, with a neat sign on the side: ‘Harry Bozen-Smith, Artist’.

‘Hello?’ Heather called, and after a moment a man emerged from the shed, wearing a pair of dungarees streaked with oil and paint, and a black T-shirt. He was rubbing his hands on a rag, and as he emerged into the daylight, Heather glanced quickly at Nikki, catching her raised eyebrow.

Harry Bozen-Smith was unreasonably attractive. He had untidy dark hair, a carefully trimmed beard, and large brown eyes framed by a pair of thick expressive eyebrows. His arms, as he moved to throw the rag into a bucket, were firmly muscled, although not excessively so. Seeing them both, he smiled – a dreamy Disney prince sort of smile.

‘Holy shit,’ muttered Nikki.

‘Are we in a jeans advert?’ Heather muttered back.

‘Hello!’ He walked down to meet them. He was wearing a battered pair of Dr. Martens boots, and had a tattoo that circled the top of his bicep, almost hidden under his T-shirt. ‘Can I help? Have you come to buy something? You’d make my day.’

‘We saw your man on the corner,’ said Heather. ‘Harry, is it?’

The man nodded. ‘Don’t see many people around here this time of year.’

‘You work out here by yourself?’

Harry Bozen-Smith shrugged. ‘Live out here, really, at the moment. Did you want to look at my work?’

Nikki nodded and stepped up to follow him, while Heather battled a sinking feeling – she’d been to enough final shows at art colleges to dread this sort of thing, but when he led them around the back of the caravan, she was pleasantly surprised. There was a small awning attached to the caravan, and underneath was a series of shapes and figures, all pieced together from junk or unidentifiable pieces of metal. She saw a copper hare, his eye a shining bicycle light, and a crowd of bats, their tight formation held together by pieces of wire. The most striking piece was a great snarling wolf made of silver and black metal. Heather leaned down to look more closely, and caught sight of her reflection in its shining flank. I know what you are, and I think you do too. She looked away hurriedly.

Nikki knelt to examine a crow more closely – the black metal had been treated with oil somehow, so that its feathers shone rainbow-like even in the shadows.