The path had been liberally sprinkled with droppings by the sheep that watched them pass, their eyes unblinking, their jaws moving rhythmically. The ewes had recently been shorn, and the red splotches of their owner’s mark showed clearly on their sides. Some still had lambs with them, a few months old now, but not yet eartagged.

‘Make sure you stay on the path, Diane,’ Cooper called as Fry began to lag behind.

‘Why, are the sheep dangerous?’

‘No, the ground is.’

Cooper smiled to himself as he climbed another stile. Fry had at least remembered him telling her how dangerous cows could be when they had calves with them. But sheep were different.

‘The signs are warning about dangerous mineshafts. There must have been lead mining around here. The shafts get covered over, and sometimes you don’t see one until you’re right on top of it.’

Cooper realized he was talking to himself. He turned to see Fry still near the last stile, with an expression of disgust on her face.

‘What’s the matter?’

She was looking at her hand in horror, as if it had turned into an alien object on the end of her arm. She bent over and began to wipe it vigorously on a patch of damp grass.

‘Oh, God, it’s sheep shit,’ she said. ‘There’s sheep shit on the top of this wall, and I put my hand right in it.’

‘Sheep? Are you sure it isn’t bird shit?’ said Cooper.

‘I don’t care what kind of shit it is. It’s on my hand.’

Cooper waited for her, wondering whether he ought to offer her a clean handkerchief or something, like a gentleman in a Jane Austen novel. But he didn’t carry a handkerchief. He might have a few crumpled Kleenex tissues in his pocket. He started to look for one, but Fry had already found her own and was gingerly stepping over the stile, without using her hands.

‘I was just saying …’ he began.

‘Stay on the path. I know.’

Cooper walked carefully through the grazing sheep and reclining cattle, not even looking at them as he passed. They glanced at him and went on cudding. But Fry shied away from the first ewe she came near, and the animal did the same, scrambling away and panicking its neighbours. The cattle slowly got up and moved away from her.

‘Diane, stop bothering the animals,’ said Cooper, turning to see what was going on.

‘I’m not – they’re bothering me.’

She turned at a rattle on the slope behind. An old ewe was peering over the ledge at her.

‘See, that one threw a stone at me.’