In Matlock Bath, he crossed the Derwent and parked near the old railway station, with its little cowled chimneys, mock timbering and herringbone brickwork. Though the Derwent Valley line was still open to Derby, Matlock Bath’s ticket office and waiting room had been converted into a wildlife gift shop. From here, it was possible to walk across the track and follow a footpath to the cable car station.

He passed a compound full of spare cable cars. Actually, half cars. They looked as though they’d been cut open to reveal their interiors. The hum of motors and the creak of cables over wheels increased to a rapid whir as a string of cars swung out of their station, dipping and bobbing as they rose. Two strings passed each other high over the village, half-hidden by the trees. In the roof of the station building, a huge steel wheel turned the cables. He saw with relief that all the cars were empty. There wasn’t much business for the Heights of Abraham at this time of year, with the kids back at school.

Arriving at the Treetops Centre, he found a sign that said Where to go next. Good question. Near the High Falls shop were a woodland family, carved by someone with a chainsaw and power file. The elm girl, the daughter of the family, was a young sapling crowned by a giant squirrel clutching an acorn, waiting to chew her bones.

A narrow doorway gave access to the base of the Prospect Tower. Halfway up the steps, there was no light from the opening at the top, just the faint glow of a bulkhead light on the wall below the handrail. The outer stones were worn smooth by the feet of thousands of visitors, but the inner steps still bore the mason’s tool marks, where they were too narrow to walk on.

This tower had been built to take advantage of the views and provide work for the unemployed. But it also contained a rare thing – a true spiral staircase. There was no central column, and the steps tapered sharply, so they were only wide enough to walk on if you stayed close to the outside wall and clung to the rail.

Finally, he stood at the top of the tower, with its three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. It was so misty today that it was like a steady drizzle falling on him when he stood at the top of the tower. Spider’s webs in the hawthorn bushes had collected the moisture and shone like silver handkerchiefs draped between the branches.