Tom’s timing was perfect. She was taking a hastily whipped up Victoria sponge out of the oven when he knocked at the door. ‘Come in, it’s open!’ she called while transferring the sponges to cooling racks.

‘Mmm, something smells good,’ said Tom, coming into the kitchen, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide.

‘It needs to cool and we need to track down Colin.’ Maggie swapped her oven mitts for some heavy-duty gardening gloves. She passed another pair to Tom. ‘You might need these. Come on.’

The quad bike was right outside. Maggie got on, being careful not to dislodge the air rifle.

‘What’s the shotgun for?’ asked Tom, his eyebrows registering alarm.

Maggie hooted a laugh. ‘It’s an air rifle. I use it for rabbits and in case I need to scare off a fox or something. I grabbed it because it might come in handy for shooing Colin back towards home.’

Tom looked even more confused. ‘Should you have a gun?’ His words were carefully placed.

‘I don’t need a licence for it if that’s what you’re asking.’ Tom pursed his lips but he didn’t respond. ‘Are you coming?’ she asked and he quickly got on board. Maggie set off along the route they’d taken before.

‘Keep your eyes peeled, he might be foraging in the woods.’ She’d already done one sweep of the farm with no luck but there was every possibility she’d missed him. His brown and white colouring was actually quite good camouflage.

Maggie switched off the engine near the main wooded region and stood up on the bike for a better view. She swivelled around to scan the area. They only had a couple of hours before the light would start to fade.

‘Has he done this before?’ asked Tom, himself twisting around.

‘No. It’s my fault. I should have renewed the binder twine on the gate.’ You were always wise after the event.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll find him,’ said Tom.

Maggie sat back down, restarted the engine and carried on the circuit. But there was no sign of Colin. It appeared he had literally made for pastures new. Maggie drove back to the driveway and turned right where the track got narrower and more grassy. They bumped along, drawing the attention of the sheep on either side. They were dotted liberally across the green fields, like a cotton wool picture a child might make.

Maggie slowed the bike as they neared someone walking across the field towards the track. The man couldn’t have looked more like a farmer if he’d tried. Flat cap, dark green coat and wellies. Something was swinging in his hand.

‘Fraser,’ said Maggie in greeting as she cut the engine. ‘Tom, this is Mr Savage. He runs the farm that backs onto my land. Tom here is helping me out.’

Savage made a gruff noise.