"Thought we might. Think he's liable to chase us off?"

"Just a renter," I replied. "Name's Lucas. He's not likely to try and talk to you, let alone make trouble."

"Very good," Tommy decided. "We're not in a way to offer much of a bribe."

"Bad year?"

"Not so bad as some," Gwen said.

"Well, wait around here a while, I'm sure you'll do decent business," I said. "Pull up – come in for a little while? Make you a hot drink and let you put your feet up."

"Won't say no," Tommy said, parking the camper in front of the shop. The boy and his friend jumped out of the truck and ran off to the cafe, probably to spread the word of the Friendly's arrival. I held the door for Tommy and Gwen, then led the way up the stairs and into my kitchen. Tommy sat at the table, stretching out his legs and leaning back comfortably. Gwen, entirely unself-conscious, sat cross-legged on the bed after shedding her muddy shoes on the kitchen mat.

"So you aren't in good health," Tommy said, as I rummaged in the cupboards.

"Tea or coffee? No, I'm fine," I replied.

"Tea please."

"English Breakfast or Jasmine?"

"Jasmine, and don't change the subject," Gwen interrupted. "A trip to city and a tired look and the boy said you'd been ill. Doesn't look like influenza to me, or gout or – one of Cupid's diseases, maybe?"

I laughed and shook my head while I ran the water. "Just a matter of the heart."

"Oh," Tommy said, raising his eyebrows. "My father had matters of the heart. He took the nitroglycerine. Died in bed, though."

"Well, that's a peaceful way to go, eh?" I asked, putting the kettle on the stove.

"Not according to his third wife," Gwen said with a giggle.

Tommy coughed. "Tell us more about this man at The Pines."

I hesitated, feeling oddly unwilling to discuss Lucas with them. He'd be terrified of a band of strangers camping on his doorstep and I didn't want to arm them any more than they already were by dint of his shyness and silence.

"He won't run you off, but you're best settled not too close to the cottage," I said finally. "He's shy and from city. He doesn't take easily to strange people."

"Low Ferry like him?"

"Oh, I suppose so. Don't dislike him, anyway." It occurred to me that more people spoke to me about Lucas than spoke to Lucas himself. "But if you take my advice you'll leave him in peace."

"Scared for us or for him?" Gwen asked.

"I'm not scared for anyone," I protested.

"What's he do?" Tommy asked.

"He's an artist."

"Oho!" Gwen laughed. "Painter? Photographer?"

"More of a sculptor," I said. "He makes masks. He was Fire Man at the Halloween celebration this year."

"We were sorry to miss that," Tommy said. "Like to meet this fellow, I think."

"You can come with us," Gwen offered. "To make sure nobody needs your services as a knight."

"Well, wait a little while, at least," I said. The kettle began to whistle. "I'm dead on my feet."

"Oh, we'll be setting up camp tonight at any rate," Tommy said. I passed him a mug and held one out for Gwen, who got off the bed and came to the table.

Talk turned from The Pines to news of the village, as I poured the tea, and then to news of the Friendly. Their family connections are wide and varied, traveling as much as they do: itinerant craftsman and migrant workers, they make their living buying and selling goods or doing odd-jobs. These days nomads in America often get in trouble for theft or fraud, by the Friendly are good people and don't deserve the reputation they get.

In Low Ferry, they usually settled in the field out by The Pines and came in to sell their goods: cold-weather clothing sewn by hand, chickens and rabbits raised on the move, sometimes knicknacks picked up from other small villages. They have a man who sharpens knives and scissors, and a couple of leather-workers who are good at fixing tack or shoes. And they had the most remarkable storyteller I'd ever met.

"We should go," Gwen said, when their tea was done and mine was getting cold. "Others'll complain if we aren't there to help set up camp. You will come tomorrow, Saint Christopher?"

"Of course," I said, and hugged her again. "Looking forward to it. I'll bring my wallet," I added with a wink.

"Good man. We'll show ourselves out," Tommy said, and they clattered down the stairs. I watched from the window as they climbed into Tommy's truck and pulled away.

When they were gone I poured out the remains of the tea, put the mugs in the sink, and lay down for a minute, just to stretch out before I unpacked my bag. I was asleep almost immediately.

I woke, disoriented, to the telephone ringing. I hadn't turned any of my lamps on and it was already falling dark; the only light was coming through the window from the street. I fumbled towards my desk, almost knocked both the lamp and the phone over, got it lit, and answered just before my answering machine would have picked up.