“Did you make them – the marks?”

“These ones, yeah.”

We carried on through the trees and the thickening undergrowth. A robin sang a high trill above our heads, but closer to the ground brambles clawed my calves. I stopped to wipe off some blood. At least it was cooler here under the branches.

Every time Una followed a chalk sign, she pointed it out to me. “Look. Here’s some signs left by other wanderers.”

Three lines again, but the bottom one was wiggly.

“That means there’s a water supply nearby. And this—” she pointed at a rectangle underneath the lines— “means there’s shelter. It’s how we found a place to stay.”

“Are they always there, those signs?”

“Not always. The chalk washes off after two or three rainfalls.”

I staggered on through the brambles and bracken.

“Look – we’re here.” Una pointed through the trees.

And there it was, a small barn, snugged into a clearing.

The barn only had two walls. The other sides were open, with supporting posts keeping the roof up.

“Dad! Dad!” Una ran in and swung round a post. “I’ve brought someone to meet you. It’s Maggie. Maggie who gave us the food and the antibiotics.”

I hung back outside. There were tree stumps dotted around, looked like they’d been used for tables or workbenches. They had stuff on top of them – leather pouches, a wooden spoon, a few cups and bowls, some books. Three billy lamps sat out on one, soaking up the sunshine.

Inside the barn, bright-coloured sacks were hooked along the walls – green and blue and yellow. A bundle of blankets was heaped in one corner.

Una grabbed a plastic water carrier. “We’re going to fill up the Cleercan, Dad.”

Who was she talking to? The place was empty.

“C’mon, Maggie,” she said.

“Mmmm?” The bundle of blankets shifted and a groany, grimy face emerged.

Mr Opal.

“We’re going to the brook,” said Una. “To fill up the Cleercan.”

“What’s going on?” He was a big mass of rust-coloured hair. If Mum was here she’d have whipped the scissors out before you could say haircut.

“Maggie’s here. My friend. I told you about her. She gave us the food and the medicine.”

He bolted upright. Pulled a pair of glasses from the tangle of his hair and put them on. He glared at me.

“Didn’t I tell you never to bring anyone here, Una?”

“She’s just come for some tea. Her brother’s gone away. I thought it’d—”

“Get out of here!” Mr Opal lurched towards me, pulling his blankets with him.

I stumbled backwards into a tree stump.

“Dad, don’t! Your leg!”

He fell back down, wincing, gripping his thigh, but he kept his eyes fixed on me.

I shouldn’t have come. This was a real wanderer. Dirty and dangerous. Mayor Anderson was right. Of course she was.