Fright, relief, and then annoyance swept over me. “You little bugger!” I erupted, scooping her up into my frustrated arms.

She lashed my scorching, sweaty face with doggy kisses.

“You’re supposed to come back when you hear this.” I brandished the whistle around my neck. “This means you don’t ignore me and chase off after foxes. More recall practice for you, I think. And no letting you off the lead again until you’re five.”

She gazed up at me and I nestled my head in her coat, squeezing back a torrent of frightened, exhausted tears. “If I had lost you just now…” I gazed down at her enquiring little face. I’d adopted her from a rescue charity when she was four months old and she’d wrapped herself around my heart from the first moment I happened to come across her photo on the charity’s Facebook page. I hadn’t been planning on getting a dog but her and her sibling’s tragic puppy-farm backstory was heartrending and then when I’d spotted her cheeky expression in her photo, I’d fallen instantly in love. This little toffee-coloured toot needed me and I needed her. Miles and I had broken up at the beginning of the year, and for the past six months Harley had been my little rock. I gave myself an inward talking-to. She was safe and didn’t appear to be any worse for her little adventure. I cuddled her tighter to me. “Come on, you. Let’s get you home. That’s more than enough excitement for one day.”

I set Harley down on the ground and snapped her lead back on to her pink and black harness.

We’d only just begun to move away, heading back for the car, when something glinted through the woodland over my shoulder, catching me unawares.

While Harley investigated a snail, I tilted my clammy head to one side, curious. I made sure I had a tight hold of her lead this time.

Straight ahead, through the cross-cross network of tree branches, was an intermittent shimmer of something. I hadn’t imagined it.

All I really wanted to do was take Harley home and collapse on the sofa with some dark chocolate, but my journalistic nosiness wouldn’t allow it.

I encouraged Harley to abandon her intimidation of the snail and to come with me.

We trampled and crunched over twigs, approaching the area where the shiny glint was coming from.

A sudden break in the trees surprised me. I had expected it to run on for miles. Instead, the branches and trunks parted to reveal what looked like an old, grand house squatting in the middle of a beautiful but overgrown front garden. A high wooden fence concealed the rear of the house.