Goodnight from John Bend, pondering why he has never seen certain regulars of The Salt-bride pub during daylight hours. Goodnight from Gerald Carpenter, putting his ear to the priest hole to listen if the ghost of Fr. Luke is praying the rosary again. Goodnight from Hookland.

Goodnight from Lady Hill Lane, where blue light from a panda car flickers the hedges as PC Bag and PC Baw search fruitlessly for the reported Woodwose. Goodnight from the teenagers of Orlwood, making thorn-blood oaths behind the bins at the village hall. Goodnight from Hookland.