As Tess stepped past grazing sheep and goats, she mused upon the fact that, only five minutes before, a rare curiosity had put a temporary halt to her journey.

Despite having to be in Stonehouse by noon, she’d pulled into a country lay-by, and found herself walking up a gentle incline which, when she thought about it, had seemed to have appeared out from nowhere.

Arriving at the top, she looked down and saw the comforting sight of her red car still parked beside a stile. Then turning, searching for land marks, her gaze fell upon a huge, oval indentation that resembled a mossy platter and, within that indentation, sat a large, grassy mound shaped like a green suet pudding.

She gripped her mobile, like a talisman, and as she did so, it pulsated in her grasp. ‘I’m waiting, Tess, as you’ve been waiting for me,’ the text read, shimmering black letters.

Then a low rumbling sound reached her. At the side of the mound, a grassy door groaned open. Frightened but rooted to the spot, Tess heard a familiar, honeyed voice say, ‘I’m so glad you’ve come.’

As she watched a tall stranger approach, wrapped in a golden cloak and hood, she prayed it was a dream; a recurring dream she’d been having over many months.

The stranger, on reaching her side, smiled a gentle smile and, as he smiled, she noted his cute, snub nose and boyish curls damp against a noble forehead.

Then, taking the mobile phone from her hand, he dropped it to the ground, saying, ‘You won’t need this, anymore, Tess.’

She went to grab it up, but a cloven foot stamped upon it, and Tess let out a groan of awed fascination.

‘You’re not frightened of me, Tess. You desire me,’ he murmured in her ear.

She blushed at the memory of her nightly, erotic dreams. He nodded as if he too had shared those dreams and, close by, goats and sheep bleated as if in knowing unison.

‘But they’re only dreams,’ she managed to find her voice. ‘You’re a myth. Not real.’

Gently, without speaking, he led her to the entrance of his domain, Arkadia, and the sound of pipes mingling with the laughter of Pan’s nymphs wafted out to greet them on a heady scent of desire.