The Train-Car, a very traditional British pub with green lacquered awnings, weathered benches outside and a sign depicting three train-cars on a track and the name in gold lettering, appeared to be open. The door stood ajar, but no noise came from within. Although it did have a sign saying rooms were available, Robin decided against it, opting instead to walk into town.

He started to walk down the hill, seeing a shortcut to the left, between two houses that seemed to lead off to a wooded area. As Robin looked through the gap between buildings, a loud baa cut through the relative silence.

Robin started and looked around. Behind him, standing a few feet away, and looking unimpressed, were two rather fat and woolly sheep. They both had scarves on—one blue and one pink—making Robin think they weren’t likely to be anyone’s meal, but rather pets. They stared at him with their black marble eyes, and Robin stared back, locked in a battle over who seemed more out of place here. Robin was the first to look away.

The sheep with the pink scarf seemed to take this as its cue, and trotted past Robin, followed by the blue-scarved sheep. They disappeared down the cut-through and Robin watched as they ducked into the woods.

He looked around, wondering what to do, and saw a woman who had come out of her door and was emptying some plastic into her recycling bin. She caught Robin’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said, “but I think someone’s sheep must have gotten free.”

She looked him up and down. “Not from round here, are you?”

“No, but...”

“Those sheep go where they please. They belong to the town.”

Robin took a look toward the woods again. “Right.” Sheep wandering around freely? That was new to him. “I’m looking for somewhere to stay. Is this the way to the town center?”

“Follow the hill down. Pub called The Hamlet has the best rooms,” the woman said, like she’d said it a dozen times before to inexperienced tourists such as himself.

“Thank you,” Robin said, but the woman had already gone back into her house.

Robin did as he was told and got to the bottom of the hill. At first, the town presented itself as a series of pubs. He came to two buildings, either side of the road. The Lucky Duck and The Grey Fox stood watching each other, acting as an unofficial gateway to the commercial part of the small town.

Past them was a main street filled with shops—a bakery, a charity shop, a co-op, three cafés and many other small businesses. They all led up to a crossroads, where a tall clock tower stood, white with red corners. The clock had stopped at three fifteen, and Robin had to check his watch to see the real time.