George pulled up behind her and wound down his window. Cynthia Redcar rushed towards him, her large man’s parka blowing open as she ran. She had been stranded there for thirty minutes.

‘I say, I’m awfully sorry to trouble you, but my car’s gone on the blink.’

George saw white teeth and abundant black hair. She had a long jawline and anyone looking at her would guess that she was a ‘horsey’ kind of person.

‘Could you please take me to get some help? I must phone my husband, he’ll be worried sick.’ She smiled at him again.

‘What seems to be the trouble?’

She pulled the parka around her slim frame and grimaced.

‘I don’t know a thing about cars, I’m afraid. It just cut out and died on me. Oh Christ, here we go again.’ She ran back to the Range Rover at the sound of a child whimpering.

George got out of his car and ambled after her.

The woman was holding a boy of about eighteen months to her breast, stroking the dark head gently and crooning the way only mothers know how. She lifted her eyebrows at George. ‘Poor little blighter’s cold and hungry.’ She picked up her bag from the back seat and set about locking the Range Rover. She stood in front of George ready and waiting, her eyebrows raised in query.

He really was an odd little man, she thought. Hardly said a word. She began to walk towards the Orion in a determined way. Opening the back doors, she placed the now quiet child across the back seat and slipped in beside him, talking softly and stroking his legs. George saw the child close his eyes and relax. He was entranced at the pretty picture it created.

The woman saw him looking and grinned. ‘Another three like this at home, I’m afraid. I hope Dicky remembers to feed them! He can be so unreliable at times. I’ll bet he fed the horses though, he’d never forget about them!’ She laughed gaily. George stared at her and she felt the first prickle of unease.

‘I say, I don’t like to push, but if you could just drive me into the village?’ Her eyebrows rose once more, this time in hope.

George was looking around him. The road was deserted. If she had been there for over half an hour then it was obviously rarely used. To the right-hand side were woods, to the left a cornfield. He could feel the familiar excitement mounting. He felt in the pocket of his coat and his hand grasped the handle of the knife. It felt cool to the touch. The road had lighting, but it was subdued, as if the planners knew that it would not be used very often.

‘Do you live far?’