‘I just want to know about the stuff that dates from then. How many people do you have staying here at the moment? Not many, I suppose, but there are cars in the car park – do you think they’d want to know about the history of this house? That the Red Wolf spent time in these fields in between dismembering bodies? Now, there are people that would be over the moon to hear that, but I doubt it’s the same people who would pay eight hundred quid a night for peace and quiet and hot stone treatments. Especially not when a particular fan of the Red Wolf is apparently causing trouble again.’

The receptionist took a slow breath, then picked up another pamphlet off the desk. This one was the same as the one Nikki already had. She picked up a biro and began to make hurried additions to the map.

‘Look, there’s not much left on the grounds from that time, save for the house itself, and a few private properties in the north-west of the estate. A few old houses that are falling to pieces, a strip of land with a caravan on it – they are mostly still occupied.’ She made a couple more marks and then handed the map over, her mouth pursed. ‘I only know about it because I was here when they were building the new roads – they had to get agreements from the residents still living on the larger property.’

‘Thank you.’ Heather took the pamphlet and tucked it away in her pocket. ‘Who owns it, anyway? This spa?’

‘Can’t you bloody Google that?’ The receptionist shook her head slightly, visibly retrieving her customer service skills. ‘It’s part of a chain of spas, which are partly owned by a private individual and partly by an environmental charity.’

‘Oak Leaf.’ Heather remembered the acorn logo on the welcome sign.

Nikki frowned. ‘A green charity? Why would they own a spa?’

‘It’s a good way to keep the land from being built on,’ said Heather, stepping back from the counter. ‘Otherwise I imagine it would all get sold up in bits and pieces and made into several shopping centres.’ She smiled warmly at the receptionist. ‘Thank you, we’ll go and have our breakfast now, I promise.’

‘Can you believe,’ said Heather, around half an hour later, ‘that they didn’t even have any sausages?’

‘They did,’ said Nikki, mildly. ‘They had vegan sausages.’

‘That is not a sausage, it is a tube of sadness and regret.’

They were making their way down the hill, having left Nikki’s car in the car park. According to the newly scribbled-on map, some of the private properties were only accessible by foot, or if you had the sort of four-wheel drive vehicle that positively embraced mud.