‘Have you been in the Cotswolds before?’ she asked.

Again a sigh that struck Thea as impatience with the questioning. Then she answered in a flat voice. ‘Never. They brought me here from Manchester.’

‘Manchester? What – the airport, do you mean? Have you been away somewhere?’43

The woman frowned fleetingly and then nodded. ‘That’s right,’ she said.

‘And you were brought here against your will? But where’s your luggage?’

‘In the car. Everything’s in the car.’

Thea tried to envisage the scenario. A terrified woman, small and powerless, threatened by criminals of some description, seizing a momentary opportunity to escape and make a run for it across unfamiliar fields and stiles with only the clothes she stood up in. The drama of it was undeniably thrilling.

‘You poor thing,’ she said. ‘Were they threatening you? Have they got your passport?’

Again, there was a silence, in which some sort of internal debate was plainly being conducted. ‘Please don’t ask any more questions. I very much appreciate your helping me like this. I could tell you were going to be kind, and capable, the moment I saw you. But I won’t stay long. You don’t have to worry about me, or bother with knowing all about me. My problems are mostly of my own making, if I’m honest. All I need is somewhere to stay out of sight until the danger’s past.’ She was speaking to Thea’s back, as they kept on walking. ‘I don’t want to make any trouble for you.’

‘All right,’ Thea threw the words over her shoulder. ‘I can’t force you to tell me if you don’t want to.’

‘Please believe me when I say it’s in your own interest. All I need is somewhere to rest, and a bit of food, if you can spare it. I’ll leave early tomorrow morning. Perhaps we can call a taxi or something.’44

The prospect of having to find food for another mouth was starting to worry Thea. In any other country there would at least be a source of bread in a village the size of Barnsley – although possibly not on a Saturday afternoon. The shop attached to the Bibury trout farm would perhaps be open the next morning, to satisfy the many summer tourists, but that required a lengthy walk, there and back. Even Stephanie’s much-lauded online deliveries would hardly manage to bring provisions at a moment’s notice. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t very much to offer you,’ she warned. ‘I only arrived today, and it’s still very disorganised.’ For the first time she realised that her companion had no possessions whatever. No bag or coat, and her tight cotton jeans did not reveal the outline of a passport or purse. ‘Have you got any money on you?’ she asked with her usual directness.

‘No. I told you – I left everything in the car. I knew I could be found if I brought my phone with me. And no way could I use a bank card.’