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stranger at midnight. He behaved oddly. He put his face to the door as if trying to smell what was inside. After that he broke a window.’
    ‘Did he get into the house?’ The old man appeared genuinely concerned.
    ‘Would you be worried if he had?’
    His way of looking at her changed. He sensed now that she was aiming to extract facts that he wished to remain concealed. ‘You’re my neighbours,’ he began. ‘Here we look out for one another. There’s thefts of machinery. Gangs come out from the towns.’
    ‘Has it ever happened to you?’
    ‘Six months ago a tractor got taken.’
    ‘I’m not talking about thieves. I’m asking if you’ve ever had a stranger prowling around your property, smelling at the door like he’s some kind of wild animal?’
    The man wanted to leave now.
    ‘Have you ever seen anyone like that?’
    ‘No... not at all.’
    ‘You have, haven’t you? What was wrong with the shape of his head?’
    ‘Now then.’ He breathed deeply. ‘I’ve seen nothing like that. I don’t know what you’re driving at.’
    ‘What did you think when you saw the head? How would you describe it?’
    ‘I can’t help you, Miss.’
    ‘What was the first word that came into your mind to describe it?’
    With some of his earlier conviction he came back with, ‘Best keep your doors locked at night, then. Don’t even look out the window. And take my advice: whatever you dug out of that hole put it back. Fill it up with soil. Turf it. Then leave well alone.’
    ‘If the night visitor comes back, what should I do? Should I invite him in?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Why? What is it?’
    Heather’s voice interrupted the beginnings of his reply: ‘Now, what can I do for you, Mr Hezzle?’
    The man’s whole demeanour abruptly changed. ‘Mrs Laird. Good morning. I’ve just been passing the day with your niece here. She’s a good looking girl, isn’t she?’
    ‘Like me, she’s not easily flattered.’ Heather scowled. ‘Have you been letting your dogs run wild again, Mr Hezzle?’
    ‘They can go where they please on my land.’
    ‘They’re brutes, Mr Hezzle.’ The woman kept her voice formal; even so, there was more than a hint of irritation. This must be the source of a long running argument. ‘You should keep them tied up in the farmyard, if they’re not allowed in the house.’
    ‘Everyone here has dogs,’ he replied evenly. ‘If you call out the police today they’ll appear next Tuesday - if you’re lucky. Those dogs of mine keep thieves away. We’d be robbed bankrupt if it weren’t for those brutes, as you call them.’
    In a telling way she sang out, ‘Good day, Mr Hezzle.’
    With polite restraint he nodded a farewell, then in a more friendly way to Eden, ‘Take care of yourself, Miss.’ A moment later he walked vigorously away.
    ‘He’s one of the notorious Hezzle tribe,’ murmured Heather to Eden. ‘They say they’ve been here since... well, from before the Romans marched in, if you believe all the tales they tell you. Take my advice, have nothing to do with them.’
    ‘Mr Hezzle was giving me some advice.’
    ‘What? The one about leaving bread and milk at your back gate at sunset? Or never cut the holly bushes down in your garden?’
    ‘Mr Hezzle told me not to dig holes.’
    ‘That’s a novel one, I suppose.’ She checked the excavation. ‘Good work. You saved the day, Eden. Will you help me lift one of those stones at the bottom? There might be an earlier floor beneath it.’
    After that there was only small talk. Eden looked round the garden.
    ‘You don’t have any holly bushes?’
    ‘No, I can’t stand them. We had all the holly ripped out.’

10. Tuesday Afternoon: 5.45
     
     
    Curtis arrived; an angry whirlwind in human form. He slammed the car door, kicked open the front door to Dog Star House. Then ripped open kitchen cupboards.
    ‘Why can I never find anything in this house!’
    Heather tried to keep pace with him. ‘Curtis? What have you done to your