She stood as far back as she could, inspecting the old house. It had obviously been added to at various periods, so there was no attempt at symmetry from this angle. The frontage had been left unchanged, while the back had been thoroughly interfered with, leading to an impression of two quite different buildings, depending on where you stood. A whole extra section had been attached to the back wall, fitting cleverly to the existing roof and rising above most of it to accommodate the attic space. It had a fairy-tale quality that Thea was only just starting to appreciate. She guessed the oldest part had to be eighteenth century at least, witness to the ancient droving road, and all the waxing and waning of fortunes that Barnsley had experienced.

And through it all, she could not ignore the little voice that kept asking, What are you doing? Why had she so violently and uncompromisingly escaped from her family, despite their obvious need of her? It had been Gladwin’s idea, and coming with such an endorsement, it had been irresistible. Thea had missed the novelty and unpredictability of her house-sitting years. She disliked 30routine and familiarity and tedious domestic chores. She had complained to the detective about it and hinted that she might be available for more official police work than the entirely unorthodox and disorganised help she currently gave them. ‘I could be some sort of consultant,’ she had suggested. ‘After all, I know my way around the Cotswolds better than most, by now.’ She had looked after houses in a dozen different villages, unearthing old secrets and making intelligent connections that had very often assisted police enquiries into violent crimes. Gladwin had ducked the question and come up with her own temporary solution to Thea’s lack of purposeful activity. ‘After all, they’re not your children,’ she had said, which had felt to Thea rather a dangerous remark. By marrying Drew, they had in effect become her children, surely? She loved them and was grateful to them for the easy way they had accepted her as a replacement mother. But there was something inescapably relentless about their very existence. She had raised her own daughter without really thinking about it. Carl had done a good share of the cooking, for a start – which Drew seldom did. Somehow, even ten years ago, life had felt simpler than it did now. Or perhaps it was merely that Thea felt under much greater scrutiny in her current role. Married to a well-known alternative undertaker, as well as being almost notorious in her own right, she could never shake free of the sense of being watched. Perhaps it was this that Gladwin – who was at heart such a very good friend − had noticed, and tried to help her to evade. And having successfully accomplished the evasion, she owed it to all concerned to make the most of it.31

It was still only mid afternoon. Perhaps, she decided, she should go out again and take a different direction, getting as full a picture of the village as she could. She might even make a start on working out how all the footpaths connected, preparatory to devising a route to Bibury that did not require a risky march along a road that made no provision for pedestrians. According to the map, a path ran northwards for a short distance, then veered to the east and eventually connected to a small track that emerged shortly before Bibury itself. It looked an easy walk, provided the signs were adequate. A patch of green along the way was labelled ‘Barnsley Park’ − not to be confused with Barnsley House. ‘Not very original in their naming,’ Thea muttered, before setting out to have a look.