She consulted her map and tentatively followed a small path beside a wall that seemed to be going in the right direction. A man was coming towards her with a brown dog on a lead. Neither looked particularly friendly, and as they drew level, the man gave Thea a hard stare that made her flinch. She wanted to protest that she was on a public footpath, minding her own business, and he had no right to behave in such a hostile fashion. But she simply returned his stare with defiance 34and walked on. The dog had kept its head down, but there had been a slow tail-wag that suggested an inclination to make friends.

Ahead of her was another field containing sheep and several large trees, which she found to be mature beeches. The path was yet again ill-defined, and without the map she would have quickly become lost. Just one more stile, she decided, and then she would either turn back, or construct a circular path that led back to the house. There was something slightly bleak about walking in the countryside without a dog. Hepzie would have tried to befriend the one with the man she’d met and forced some sort of exchange with the hostile person. All sorts of things might have gone differently, in fact.

The final stile turned out to be the high point of the walk so far, in more senses than one. It loomed above her, at least seven feet in height, providing the only way over the equally high wall bordering the field. Thea’s feeling for history left her in no doubt that here were the remnants of a large and important estate, its boundaries constructed with great emphasis three or four hundred years ago. The wall was in good condition, unambiguously designed to repel invaders. The ‘stile’ was plainly a reluctant concession to the occasional need to get over the wall. There was no way of seeing over it, the estate concealed from view, at least from this direction.

She climbed the stone steps, each one at least eighteen inches high. No dog could have managed it, and many children would be confounded. Anyone with stiff hips or a delicate back would have to turn away and retrace 35their steps. But Thea scrambled up without any real difficulty, and was immediately dumbstruck by what lay on the other side.

The map showed a track, named Cadmoor Lane, which had led her to expect an easy path, possibly even navigable by cars – or at the least, horses and bikes. Instead there was a virtually impenetrable mass of vegetation. She could just discern an official way-marker pointing northwards, but more clearly visible was a printed laminated sign saying footpath, indicating that walkers should turn either right or left, heading west or east. Either would involve pushing through long grass, wild flowers, brambles and bracken. She decided at that point that she had definitely gone far enough. But then she saw something that made her pause and think again.