Once they had their shoes back on, Jack asked how well Oaks knew the two women, seeing as Annie referred to him by his first name. Oaks reiterated what Jack already knew – that everybody knew everybody round here and things could get incredibly messy if they discovered that one of their own was in league with the burglars.

Around the back of the farmhouse, not visible from the road, were two stable blocks with space for four horses in each. One block was currently full, the other empty and being used as storage for animal feed and the equipment that Charlotte used for her gardening business. As Jack and Oaks approached, Charlotte was guiding the four horses into a neighbouring field. They raced excitedly into the open green space where they bucked and kicked, before settling to feed on the fresh grass.

Charlotte was a bigger woman than Annie, but not fat; she looked strong and athletic from working the land and tending animals. She had thick curly brown hair tied back with a yellow ribbon, similar dungarees and Hunter boots to Annie’s and a longer T-shirt underneath that hid her midriff. A large red checked shirt finished the look, and Jack would have assumed by its size that it belonged to the man of the house, if he hadn’t already been told by Oaks that Annie and Charlotte were a couple. Once the horses were in the field and the gate securely fastened, Charlotte started searching her pockets in vain for something that clearly wasn’t there.

‘It’s in the kitchen, Charlotte!’ Oaks shouted, so she turned to face them.

Charlotte had the lightest blue eyes, framed by long black lashes. Her petite nose and big lips made her face effortlessly pretty, although not beautiful in the truest sense of the word. She was riveting to look at. Oaks introduced Jack, and Charlotte asked if they minded her continuing to work whilst they talked. This simple gesture of courtesy immediately set her aside from the likes of Mrs Fullworth – Charlotte was naturally confident, and so could also be polite without fear of seeming submissive. She did not need to assert her position with anyone. Charlotte disappeared into one of the stables and reappeared carrying a pair of men’s wellingtons. She handed them to Jack – ‘They were my father’s once upon a time.’ Now Jack knew the owner of the oversized shirt.

Jack propped himself against a tractor tyre, swapping his ruined shoes for a dead man’s wellies, and watched Charlotte stride back and forth stocking up the feed for when her horses returned to their stables, clearly not fazed by having two police officers in her stable yard. She then collected two bridles and headed for the field where the four horses she’d just let out were enjoying the freedom of the open land.