‘And then you started with Jane Austen?’

Jack laughed as he opened the boot. Much to my surprise, Clive didn’t spring out like a wind-up jack-in-the-box suddenly released, but stayed put.

‘He’s not jumping out.’

‘Nope. He’s been taught not to,’ Jack said, clipping the lead onto the dog’s collar. ‘Come on then, mate.’ At this direction, Clive leapt easily from the car, his tail wagging madly back and forth in excitement. He wandered off a little to the length of the lead, towards the edge of bushes, and began sniffing. Jack was patting his pockets.

‘You OK? Forgotten something?’

‘Just checking I have poo bags.’ As if on cue, Clive, in the shade of the bush, squatted and then trotted back to us, looking pleased with himself. Jack handed the lead to me and walked over to the spot, crouched down and tidied up. ‘There’s a bin just there. I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said, jogging off. Clive gave a small whine.

‘It’s all right. He’ll be back in a moment,’ I said, reaching down to ruffle his chin. He sat, pressed his head against my thigh and waited. As Jack strode quickly back towards us, Clive stood up and did a happy, excited dance at his approach.

‘Somebody likes you.’

‘Well, at least someone does.’ He gave me a wink and gestured for us to set off. I held out the lead for him.

‘Can you hold on to him for a minute?’

I looked at him warily, suspecting he might be trying to coax me into getting used to the dog and therefore changing my mind about keeping him. Jack rolled his eyes and waggled his phone at me. ‘I just want to check the hike route on the map.’

‘Oh. Right. Yes, of course.’

We walked off slowly as Jack familiarised himself with the direction and then held his hand out for me to hand over the lead. ‘We can let him off in a minute anyway.’

‘Is that OK? He won’t get lost or run into a road?’

‘No, he’s got a really good recall and we’re away from the road now.’

‘Oh. Right.’

Jack bent down to unclip the lead. Impulsively, I gave Clive’s face a little fuss. ‘Now, don’t you go running off, OK?’

He appeared to listen for a moment then shot off across the field like a greyhound out of a trap.

Part way around the hike, we came to the high spot of Box Hill. People were sitting on the side of the hill, some lying down, eyes closed as they bathed in the gentle spring sunshine. Children ran up and down the top part of the hill with an energy most of us could only dream of regaining, laughing as they did so. Looking across, fields sectioned into squares caught the sunshine, some cultivated, some green with grass, all divided by hedgerows. Beyond them, the odd space of green peeped through dense forest, the deep green of the trees contrasting with the pastel blue sky. A few more clouds had drifted in now, dotting across it as though in a child’s painting.