'I'll be careful,' said Wield. 'No hurry on a morning like this. I'd as lief be staying here to give you a hand if you'd have me.'

'I'm always willing to set on a likely lad,' laughed Creed. 'But I think you'd be wanting your cards afore the end of the day.'

He glanced upwards as he spoke and Wield followed his gaze into the unflawed bowl of blue sky.

'You're never saying it's on the turn, are you?' he asked sceptically. 'Looks set for another month to me.'

'Nay, it'll spoil itself by tea time, and make a right job of it too.'

'You reckon? Well, even if it does, you're better off here than where I'm going. Wet, dry, hail or shine, there's no place like Enscombe. See you, George.'

He engaged the clutch and continued his leisurely progress down the valley road which aped the twists and turns of the River Een as though it were of the same ancient natural birth. A couple of miles further on he saw the juggernaut of the livestock transporter coming towards him and pulled off the road into a small piece of woodland to let it past. The driver blew his horn in appreciation and Wield waved as the huge truck with its legend D. HAIG amp; CO Livestock Wholesalers rumbled by.

When it was past and out of sight, he continued to sit for a while, enjoying the cool breeze through the open window and the way the amber sunlight scintilla'd through the trembling branches. He had the feeling that if he got out of his car and strolled off into the wood, he could keep going forever with nothing changing, no ageing, no hunger, no cold, no crime, no war…

And certainly no rain!

Yes, that was one thing he was certain of. He was a great respecter of the rustic eye, but towns had weather too and Detective Sergeant Wield of Mid-Yorkshire CID wasn't often caught without his umbrella. No, this time George had got it wrong. This Indian summer had a lot of wear in it yet. He couldn't see any end to it himself. And what you couldn't see the end of, surely that must be forever?