This kindness reminded Miki of the way her mother used to come into her room at night and snuggle the blankets tight around her to make sure she stayed warm. It was a motherly thing: a concern for others that extended beyond self. Father never had it. Neither did Kurt. Maybe Geraldine was a mother too. Miki realised she knew very little about the woman sitting beside her.

Geraldine had been fossicking in her handbag, and now she pulled out a book and handed it to Miki. ‘I promised to bring you one. Remember?’

It was Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, the author who had written Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Miki’s pulse surged and for a moment she forgot about the devils. She examined the cover: a picture of a small flock of black-faced sheep being herded through a wooden gate on a snowy track. Behind them: a border collie and the figure of a man. Branches arched across the track, just like in the forest. A snow-covered farmhouse.

‘I love sharing books,’ Geraldine was saying. ‘And I know you love Tess, but I think you’ll like this story too. When you’ve read it, you’ll have to come and visit me. I want to know what you think.’

Miki ran a finger over the cover. It was hard to believe the book was hers to discover, a whole story waiting to unfold from the pages. ‘I don’t know when I can come,’ she said. Her escapes would end if Kurt found she’d taken a key.

‘That’s all right, dear,’ Geraldine said. ‘You come when you can.’

An hour later, they checked the traps. In the far corner of the yard, one was closed. When Leon shifted it, a loud shriek confirmed they’d caught a devil. Miki pictured the animal, hemmed in and frightened. But Dale seemed unperturbed. Businesslike, he covered one end of the trap with a hessian sack then opened the door and guided the devil in. He passed the bag to Miki, smiling triumphantly. ‘Here’s your devil. You can carry him back to the car.’

Miki accepted the bag tentatively; it was heavy. ‘Will he bite?’

‘Keep him away from your body,’ Dale warned. ‘Let’s hope he’s not hungry.’

In the bag, the devil remained quiet. ‘He’s very still,’ she said. ‘Could he be dead?’

‘He’s alive, all right. Don’t put your hands on him.’