‘Better keep your voice down then.’ He takes the left-hand fork away from the house and pulls up on a low wooden bridge built over an ornamental lake. He climbs out of the truck and peers over the edge.

‘What are we doing here exactly?’ I follow him onto the bridge, keeping an uncertain eye on the house.

‘You said you wanted fresh fish.’

‘You’ve got to be joking!’ I lean over the stone ledge and peer down at the flat greasy water below. ‘Is anything actually alive in there?’

Duval takes a crust of bread from his pocket and tosses it in the water. Instantly there’s a frenzied thrashing.

‘Yikes!’ I pull back involuntarily. ‘Frankenfish.’

‘Hogan’s pride and joy. He far prefers them to his children. Feeds them by hand so they’re practically tame and very fat.’ Duval fetches a net out of the back of the truck then stops when he sees the look on my face. ‘You’re not going to make much of a fugitive if you baulk at a little poaching. Besides . . .’ he hands it to me, ‘it’s one of the few crimes in this country that doesn’t carry the death penalty.’

‘Tell that to the fish.’ I lean over the bridge and swipe the net towards the water. It barely ripples the surface.

‘What a shame.’ I hand it back with a grin. ‘Handle’s too short.’

‘You’re too far away. I’ll lower you down.’

‘I’m sorry? Lower me down?’

‘Well you can’t possibly expect me to do it,’ he says indignantly. ‘I’m no good with heights.’

‘Let me get this straight. You want to dangle me head first off the bridge?’

‘Not if you’re scared.’

‘Are you trying to goad me?’

‘I’m trying to feed you.’

‘Well can’t you rope a steer or cook beans like a proper cowboy?’ I hoist myself onto the stone surface.

Duval lays another piece of bread on the ledge beside me. ‘You’ll need to be quick with the net.’ He puts his hands on either side of my legs. ‘Ready?’

He’s smiling down at me and I’m smiling too. ‘This is silly, Duval.’

‘I thought you were hungry.’

‘Really silly.’

‘Push away from the bridge with your arms.’

‘And if someone comes?’

‘I’ll shoot them.’

‘You’d better,’ I say with feeling.

He lowers me slowly until my head is a foot clear of the water. The bread comes sailing down past my face and lands with a plop. Again the water froths and boils. I take a great swipe and feel the net almost jerked out of my hands. Through the pounding in my ears, I can dimly hear him shouting.

‘Keep the net up!’

‘Easy for you!’