At the bridge, the sun’s warm on their backs. The stream’s tumbling over pebbles, rippling the weeds rooted in the water, and tall trees cast shade over the banks, where the grass is lush and stippled with motley-coloured flowers. Where boulders have formed a calm pool a dragonfly hovers, its turquoise body wafting on diaphanous wings.

‘It’s a while since we’ve done this,’ says Jack. ‘Where do you think looks like a good spot?’

Evan makes for the pool. The sun on the water makes it hard to see, but somewhere under the surface there is movement.

Jack nods encouragement.

‘I think you’re right. That’s where I’d be starting. Mind you keep your shadow behind you. We don’t want to let them know we’re here.’

Evan slips the net into the water and slides it cautiously along the bottom. When he brings it up, as water dribbles back into the pool the mesh glitters, mimicking the wriggling of a fish.

But there’s nothing there.

‘Unlucky,’ says Jack. ‘Have another go.’

Evan tries again, and again, and again. Jack crouches beside him, peering into the water, as absorbed as Evan is in the task. The skylark has stopped singing. There’s just an old man, his grandson and the soothing babble of the stream.

A vehicle’s coming down the road, slowing as it draws close to the farm entrance. They hear the crunch of gravel under tyres and music on a radio before the engine is switched off. The music stops and a door slams.

A young man appears, wearing the shorts and red shirt of Post Office uniform. He’s bringing letters, but rather than slipping them into the old mailbox nailed to the gatepost, he wanders the few paces to join Evan and Jack.

‘Morning,’ he says cheerfully.

‘Morning, Ben,’ says Jack. ‘It’s a beautiful day. I don’t think you’ve met my grandson, Evan.’

Ben nods a hello.

‘It’s glorious,’ he says, ‘and too nice to be at work. I’d far rather be doing what you’re doing. Have you caught anything?’

‘Not yet,’ says Jack, ‘but we will.’

‘I used to love fishing,’ says Ben. ‘I should get my rods out, next time I have a day off.’

‘Not so easy to make time for it when there’s a baby in the house,’ says Jack. ‘How’s he doing, anyway?’

Ben grins.

‘He’s champion, absolutely champion. Except for all those nappies. I’m not so keen on them. Look, I reckon there’s one down there, under that rock.’

The three of them peer at the water, and Evan directs his net. When he brings it up, there’s a fish struggling in the bottom, the spines on its back stuck in the mesh.