‘They sold the pub,’ Louise said. ‘It was a freehold back then. That probably gave them enough money to buy a house somewhere like this. They ran their own catering business after they moved here. You could probably make a lot of money in catering somewhere like this. Imagine all those wealthy people having dinner parties but not wanting to do the cooking themselves. Plus the fancy weddings and christenings and birthdays you could cater for. It could be quite lucrative.’

She indicated and turned left into the driveway of a classic, flint and red-brick two-storey house set in its own grounds on the outskirts of the village.

‘Wow,’ Dee said, taking in the house. ‘It must have been very lucrative.’

Louise switched off the engine and they got out of the car.

‘Looks pretty quiet,’ Louise said.

‘There’s a car here,’ Dee said, pointing to the cream-coloured Mini Clubman, ‘maybe someone’s home.’

But when she rang the doorbell, no one came to answer it.

‘What do we do now?’ Louise asked.

‘We have a look around.’

Dee walked around the outside of house, peering through the windows. Inside, the house was every bit as lovely as the outside. Large, high-ceilinged rooms with plenty of original features, all tastefully furnished and decorated. The back of the house had been extended to create a huge kitchen-diner with doors leading to the well-tended back garden.

‘What’s that?’ Louise pointed at a low stone building at the end of the garden.

‘Looks like an old ice house.’

Intrigued, Dee wandered over to take a closer look.

Built entirely out of stone, the little building resembled a stone igloo. It had a thick, wooden door, with an old-fashioned lock. A rust-covered key was in the lock which, after a few attempts, Dee managed to twist around. She pushed her weight against the door and it creaked open slowly. Dee guessed this was the first time it had been opened in years. She stepped forward, into the pitch black and icy cold. A stale smell wafted out and she wrinkled her nose as she switched on the torch on her phone and looked inside.

‘Amazing,’ she whispered to Louise, standing behind her. ‘Probably been here since the seventeenth century. They wouldn’t use it today, of course.’

‘It’s horrible,’ Louise said. ‘Come away, Dee. I don’t like it in there. It gives me the creeps.’

Dee was about to tell Louise not to be such a sissy, when she remembered what had happened to her cousin at the beginning of the year. She’d been attacked and locked inside the boot of her car. It was no wonder a dark space like the inside of the ice house would freak her out.

‘There’s nothing in there, anyway.’ Dee stepped back and pulled the door closed. ‘Come on, let’s try the house one more time.’