‘Tell me what happened,’ she ordered in a voice of iron. She didn’t use that tone very often.

‘I don’t like that road at night,’ Callum said.

‘Well, at least you’re safe from traffic,’ said Gran. She looked at him sharply, like a ferret sniffing out a rabbit. ‘Did something frighten you?’

Callum shook his head. ‘A dog followed me, that’s all. It’s gone now. I don’t know where it came from.’

Gran gave a knowing nod. ‘Warren’s farm, maybe, on the other side of the wood. His dogs are always getting through the fence.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’

Trust Gran to come up with a rational explanation. She’d never had any time for what she called ‘hocus-pocus’. But she hadn’t felt the eerie, freezing wind, nor seen the huge black shape that had appeared and then vanished at the gate. Callum didn’t know what it was, but he knew it hadn’t been a farmer’s dog.

‘Well, thank goodness you’re home safe and the rain hasn’t come on yet. Listen to the wind rising out there. I was starting to worry! Trains late again, I suppose.’ Gran pointed to the grate. ‘Supper’s not ready, I’m afraid. I’m doing jacket potatoes in the fire and they take forever. Why don’t you have a bath? The water’s hot, I put it on an hour ago. I thought you’d need it after your match. Go on and fill the tub and I’ll fix you a drink to keep you going till the spuds are done.’

Callum smiled weakly. ‘Thanks, Gran.’

He stood up again, relieved that he was no longer shaking. He took off his coat and hung it on the narrow row of coat hooks by the door, and left his boots on the mat beneath. Gran’s cottage might be tiny, and the furniture old and battered, but she ran a tight ship. As long as everything is in its right place, there’s plenty of room, she liked to say.

While Gran set the kettle on the gas ring in the lean-to kitchen, Callum moved into the bathroom and began to fill the bath.