‘I’ll keep my eyes open,’ Molly said. ‘What time does breakfast finish?’

‘It’s served seven thirty to ten thirty, you’ve plenty of time.’

With a nod of thanks, Molly headed across the reception to a door leading out onto the patio. It was a perfect morning for running, cool but with the hint of a warmer day ahead. Following the directions, she easily found the path through the high hedge, stepping carefully over slimy, slippery leaves in its deep shade.

A short while later, she was walking over an old, stone humpbacked bridge. On the other side, the towpath stretched each way. Both directions looked tempting, each having enticing bends to lure her on. She’d go one way today, the other tomorrow. And with that easy decision made, she ran, slowly at first, getting a feel for the rough path underneath, then increasing her speed until she was moving at a steady pace. She ran in London, despite the fumes, but this was sheer pleasure.

The path was separated from the farmland beyond by lush hedgerows filled with life; birds twittered, butterflies fluttered, bees buzzed. Molly wanted to laugh aloud at how perfect it was. She would have missed the heron, if her eyes hadn’t been scanning the canal on the lookout. It was standing on the edge of the path ahead, staring into the water, waiting for a sign of prey. She stopped and stood watching it, mesmerised at how still it was before edging closer to get a better look. The heron moved its head slowly, beady eyes focusing on her, then with a slight bend of its long legs, it launched into the air, wide wings flapping gracefully as it skimmed over the water. It didn’t go far, coming to a halt on the other side several feet ahead.

It ignored her as she ran past a moment later. She guessed a kingfisher would be harder to see, especially as she needed to keep her eye on the towpath as she ran; it was far more uneven than she’d expected, with potholes and raised stones underfoot and the odd arching bramble extending from the hedgerow.

Almost thirty minutes after leaving the humpbacked bridge, she saw a wooden bench ahead in the shade of a large tree. Maybe she’d sit a moment and see if she could spot a kingfisher before starting back, but when she got closer she saw she’d been deceived by a shadow… the bench was already occupied.

She slowed to a walk, her eyes scanning the canal, peering into the branches of the trees on the far side, searching for a splash of colour. There was nothing and it was time to turn back. She’d seen a heron; she’d have to settle for that.

‘Hi.’