Then, at last, the big day came and I left work at lunchtime, met Julie at the flat, and we took a taxi to the station with our sleeping bags and ruck...acks.On her return to Middlesbrough, Julie had described to me how the drought had affected the normally green English landscape; despite her warnings I was still a little shocked at how brown and scorched everything was; in some places there were signs of vegetation having been burned – once the train actually slowed to a crawl as we went. Before Adam could say anything, the older man, obviously in a state of shock, spoke first. ‘What the blazes! Who on earth….’ Before he could continue, Adam thought it best to intervene and reassure him. ‘Hi I’m Adam Flaxwell, a friend of Barnaby’s. His aunt’s very kindly letting me stay here – for the time being at least. You must be Mr Timpson, Barnaby’s uncle.’ The older man looked Adam up and down, before replying. ‘Yes, that’s right. Nominally the owner of this house. Not that I get to. More

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