Fairy lights strewn through the leaves of the neighbour's trees have the desired effect. It's as if we've wandered into the pages of a magical tale. The sky is tinted with a mysterious green and a sickle moon adds a further cosmic element. A strange cawing comes from the sky and soon reveals itself in the shape a grey heron lazily skimming itself along in the direction of the river.
Meanwhile, a black car drives a winding road through twilit woods. Bluesy Bob Dylan fills the car. The smell of summer comes in through the open window. The driver sees a light some ways off in the woods to his right. He can't look for too long, the road being full of curves.
It's a white light framed in a square that blends with the surrounding darkness. Not quite the right light to signify a window because the whiteness flickers, blurs and can't keep still. Besides, as the driver could tell you, there are no houses in these woods.
The road moves on. Comes to a white sign hanging from a tree that says TROUT FARM. The road connects to another bigger road. Comes to a town. It's late now and the driver feels very tired. Like he shouldn't be driving at all. A shape that might be a cat runs down a pavement. The shape turns.
The driver is thinking about the field he'd passed earlier in the afternoon. The field had been very dry with stubble bleached white and almost silver in places. A buzzard sat on a pole scanning the verges for prey. It was inevitable, the driver had thought, that something, maybe a mouse or rabbit, would betray itself through a complacent movement.
The eyes that belonged to the shape that ran along the pavement fixed on the driver. The eyes were two golden discs in the headlight glare. Then they were gone as the shape turned and ran, revealing itself to be a fox.
The driver slowed and turned into a drive. He parked the car, half of the bonnet smothered by a lilac bush. The purple flowers lying on the black bonnet would create a striking colour contrast come morning.
It was still damn hot.
The neighbours were having some kind of party. Voices and laughter. Fairy lights strewn through the trees.
The driver looked up to see a sickle moon. Some trick of light and cloud caused him to see double. There were two moons. The moon had created a mirror image of itself. The driver rubbed at his eyes and the original went away. Happy to see that there was just one moon shining above his house, the driver put his front door key in the lock and went on inside.
I suppose I should come clean.
After all, you're probably thinking, doesn't this driver have a name?
So yes, I'll admit it. I am the driver.
It was inevitable that something or other would reveal itself through a complacent movement.