He was sweating as he smothered the flames with the coat, stamping on it to make sure every last spark was extinguished. A fire out here could rage for miles, and Bob Freeman, who owned the land, would lose everything.

His greatcoat was charred and burnt through in places, but that didn’t matter. He flung it aside and continued to stamp on the blackened grass until he was certain it hid no glowing embers, But the post was still hot, for the burn had gone deep into the wood and found the ancient creosote that had been painted on it when it was new. One puff of this warm wind would stir the fire into life again.

He scrambled between the barbed-wire strands, filled his hat with water from the trough and quickly doused the post and the grass beneath it. He did this repeatedly until he was absolutely sure everything was safe. Exhausted by his efforts, and almost depleted of strength, he thrust his head beneath the trickling pipe that fed the trough and then shook himself like a dog before slumping to the ground.

The two dead cows had already attracted a swarm of flies and were beginning to stink in the growing heat. He eyed them grimly and struggled to his feet. He couldn’t stay here – or he’d end up like the cows.

The barbed wire tore his shirt and scraped his back as he clambered between the strands, and there was the acrid scent of fire lingering in the air and in his coat as he repacked his kitbag. Fire was his enemy, for it evoked the worst memories of all – memories of being helpless, of hearing the screams and seeing …

Turning his back on the windmill, he hoisted the bag over his shoulder and stumbled away. He was wasting his energy by recalling those scenes, for they did no good to his spirit and he couldn’t turn back time to stop what had happened. With his boots kicking up dust and the pain gnawing at his insides, he slowly and wearily continued to follow the rails.

*

Terence had finally been forced to pull the car off the road by Sandra’s desperate need to empty her aching bladder. A short while later he almost fell asleep at the wheel and so stopped again to snatch some much-needed rest.

This unscheduled delay had caused yet another row with Sandra, who’d refused to share the driving and was vitriolic about sleeping in the car in the middle of nowhere. But her ranting did her no good, for Terence fell almost immediately into a dead sleep and didn’t hear a word of it.

He’d been startled awake by the sharp prod of her finger in his ribs, and he eyed her blearily, confused momentarily by the unfamiliar surroundings.