I heard the voices before the shapes came into proper focus. One voice raised in temper – the other soft and low, like the confident growling of a dog that knows it rarely needs to go to the trouble of biting anybody.

‘Yer don’t understand! I just need to talk to him! We’re pals. It’s none of yer worry.’

‘I’m not worried. But you’d be as well to move on.’

‘Hiding between your legs, is he? Little shite. Led me a fucking merry dance up and down the bloody ridge. But yer not as clever as ye think yez are, ye little bastard. Found ye, didn’t I!’

‘No you didn’t. Because he’s not here. I’ve told you that. The only thing here for you is trouble and I’m too tired to dish it out. But if you’re going to push …’

‘I’ll blow yer bloody face off.’

‘Yes, Pike, you’ll huff and you’ll puff and you’ll piss off. You’re no big bad wolf.’

I stayed where I was, pressed against the damp trunk of a slender tree. The man I knew as Heron was leaning in the open doorway of one of the abandoned cottages. In front of him, propped up on a branch that he had sunk into the floor, hung an old oil lamp. It gave off just enough light to see his backpack and a wooden crate. Craning my neck I could make out the contents. Detergent. Milk. Bread. Tins of food. Matches. Whisky. Home-made jam. I recognized the contents at once. Such gifts had been arriving on my doorstep ever since moving in. Did we have the same benefactor? I frowned, unsure what to make of it. Then a thought occurred. Had Heron been providing me with the helpful parcels? And if so, what on earth for? I thought of the boot prints by the bed and stared at his big, brooding silhouette. I suddenly wished I could better see his face.

‘Ye’ve never scared me, Heron.’

‘I know that, lad. That’s what baffles me.’

‘I could come down here any night. Could stick a knife in yer guts while ye were sleeping and decorate the trees with yer insides.’

‘Aye, you could. Tell you what, I’ll go get some shut-eye now and you just let me know when you’re ready.’

I found myself grinning. Heron’s voice barely rose above a whisper. There was no fear in him. In contrast, Pike sounded like an angry adolescent.

‘He’s got something I need,’ whined Pike.

‘He’s just a boy. And he belongs to John and Felicity. They’re all right. They don’t deserve you.’

‘But Fairfax …’ shrieked Pike. ‘The tooth …’