‘You’ll need clothes. A toothbrush. All sorts of things.’

‘Oh, no. Just food and drink and somewhere to lie down where I won’t be found. Like an animal.’

She was like a frightened rabbit, Thea realised. Or rather – a fox, escaping the hunt by means of cunning. Hiding in a thicket; taking a roundabout route to safety, driven by fear and determination to survive. All her life, Thea had sided with the fox against the bloodthirsty huntsmen and their slavering dogs.

The turning and the village roofs beyond were now visible. Talking had helped to propel them along. Another car swept past without slowing. Two people were in it, the passenger holding a phone to his ear. Grace shuddered and drooped, but less so than before. ‘They didn’t even glance at us,’ Thea assured her.49

At last they reached the house. It stood serene and solid, the upper windows like eyes, gazing across the distant wolds and dreaming of past glories. The front door scraped as it opened, which made Grace wince. ‘Another job for the builders,’ said Thea. ‘The whole place is being renovated – modernised. It’s been neglected, poor thing.’

‘You are doing the work?’

‘Gosh, no. I’m just here to supervise, basically. And to keep intruders out. In theory, anyway. The owner is usually here, but she’s had to go abroad. I’ve never met her, actually. It’s all been arranged by a mutual friend.’ Even to her own ears, this explanation sounded almost as garbled as Grace’s story had. And wasn’t this peculiar woman an intruder herself, potentially? Wasn’t Thea breaking an agreement by allowing her into the house? She hesitated in the hallway, suddenly apprehensive. What on earth was she doing?

‘I don’t really understand,’ sighed Grace. ‘Where can I sit down?’

‘Through there. The living room. There isn’t much furniture.’ She followed her visitor into the room, where Grace slumped onto one of the chairs. ‘I’ll make tea,’ said Thea. ‘The kettle’s in the next room. I’ll go and fetch it.’ She noted the surprise when she came back with the makings of tea on a tray and took it all to the side of the room, where she switched on the kettle. ‘I told you – it’s all rather chaotic. The kitchen’s out of bounds, so the basics are all in here and the dining room. Do you take milk? There’s no sugar, I’m afraid.’50

‘Black, please.’

In a different world, Thea would perhaps have offered China tea, or Earl Grey. As it was, there was a box of Tetley’s teabags and nothing else. The milk would soon go off, as well. ‘There are some biscuits, luckily,’ she announced. ‘And I’ve got a tin of soup and some fruit for later. We won’t starve – quite.’

The kettle was making a breathless sound, which Thea realised meant that there was hardly any water in it. ‘Oops!’ she said. ‘Better not burn out the element.’ She switched it off again and took it to the downstairs toilet, where she awkwardly filled it from the cold tap of the basin. ‘This gets more like camping by the hour,’ she muttered to herself.