Hugh is a fit, fair-skinned man just under six feet tall, with close-cropped blond hair that sticks up in uneven bristles after a day outdoors. His nose is broad at the bridge, his jaw clean-shaven, and his grey-green eyes have a habit of fixing on a person's mouth when they speak. He moves with the easy, economical stride of someone used to carrying weight, but turns his whole torso rather than just his head, as if keeping track of a room's exits. He has a small, unexpected habit of smelling a flower before handing it to someone, even when the flower is a weed pulled from a roadside ditch. Before he speaks, he draws a dry, clicking breath through his teeth; it is the sound people remember when they recall the Mayday.

Hugh is generous with effort but guarded with trust. He can be warm, even wry, while mending a cart or helping a stranger, yet becomes stubbornly watchful when Mayday or Oswin Hirst comes up. His protectiveness toward Mary is rooted in love, but it can shade into control. When relaxed, he jokes at his own expense; when frightened, he becomes painfully literal and insists on describing exactly what he saw.

Hugh Pickles grew up with his sister Mary in a small farming parish where spring work was shared and every stranger was noticed. He became a carter and occasional laborer, strong enough to haul a stuck wagon free and patient enough to coax a skittish horse across a narrow bridge. On Mayday, he was with Mary when Oswin Hirst's delight stopped seeming like ordinary high spirits. Hugh remembers the impossible brightness in Oswin's face, the crowd's laughter arriving a beat too late, and the sense that the morning had tilted while the sun stayed still. He pulled Mary away before anyone could explain what was happening. Since then, he has been privately checking the people who were there, trying to determine whether they remember the same details or have been persuaded to forget them. He still works locally, but has begun declining jobs that would take him far from Mary. Their bond is strong and affectionate, though she resents his habit of treating her as someone to protect. Oswin remains a connection Hugh cannot bring himself to sever: Hugh wants answers, but fears that confronting him will make the strange delight return.