It was frustratingly difficult to locate the path and took some time. Finally discovering that it began at a point behind the church, she was immediately confronted by a kind of stile she had seldom seen before. It was a solid slab of stone set into the wall, with chunky steps up to it on both sides. A dog would have to be lifted over unless it was extremely agile. She climbed over and found herself in a field liberally covered with cow pats, but no sign of any cows. The path was a thin thread of slightly browner ground, passing a tantalisingly secluded little cottage with roses growing up its back wall. A large tree turned out to be a walnut on closer inspection.

By the time she’d crossed the field, she had almost forgotten her purpose. There was more than enough to look at and enjoy for its own sake. Another two stiles 32took her over the road and into a long straight track that bore all the signs of having once been a handsome avenue approaching a substantial property. When she finally noticed the property itself, it was with a small shock. On her right, behind a wrought-iron gate, stood a lovely Georgian mansion, which appeared to be the main component of the tucked-away Barnsley Business Park. A sign on the gate said, ‘Proceed By Invitation Only’, which she thought must be the politest way of saying ‘No Entry’ she’d ever seen.

Still wondering about the business park, she pursued the path, and found herself in a time warp. To the left was a large Elizabethan-style garden, full of roses, herbs, privet hedging in geometric patterns and generally exuberant vegetation. To the right was a huddle of old stone buildings that must comprise the workshops and commercial units she had read about on the computer. There were also small houses, and parking areas. Between Thea and the big house was an overgrown ha-ha to catch unwary intruders. There was no sign of movement. No voices or engines or barking dogs. In that respect it was familiar Cotswold territory, but here the silence seemed deeper and less easy to explain.

Creeping closer, she could just see several cars neatly parked around a central yard. The whole enclave seemed secretive and unwelcoming. She had not yet located the road by which vehicles could access it. There was something deeply ambivalent about the notion of business people pursuing their twenty-first-century careers in this particular spot. They could be doing absolutely 33anything, tucked away from the public gaze, no doubt minding their own business where their neighbours were concerned. Asking no questions, turning blind eyes. Thea’s mind began to toy with a range of hypothetical activities going on within those solid stone walls.

There were undoubtedly other similar enterprises across the region, out of sight up small lanes. It was as if the old stone houses in the villages, with their handsome churches and upmarket pubs, were the false facade on something much more contemporary and businesslike. Had it taken her all these years to finally recognise this reality? Had she failed to notice that there was actually a great deal more going on than first appeared? Even living in the Cotswolds, she had been slow to appreciate the fact that not everybody commuted to Oxford or Stratford for their work. She regularly passed a small industrial complex right outside her own home village of Broad Campden, after all. But it was still startling to find here, in little Barnsley, that there was a fully-fledged business park, where people were not only employed, but obviously lived as well.