A brief tour of the upper floor revealed a functioning bathroom, which she knew was also due for modernisation, a back bedroom that had been reserved for her, two further empty rooms and a locked door that had to be Tabitha’s private domain. Thea’s room contained a single bed, chest of drawers 19and chair. A narrow flight of stairs led up to an attic.

It was all perfectly bearable, she assured herself. On Monday morning, builders would arrive, and Thea would have all the company she could handle. There was a list of jobs to be done by the end of the week, and if everything went to plan, she would then be free to leave. There should be secure doors by that time, as well as new flooring in the hall and a set of modern appliances in the kitchen and bathroom. With a healthy dash of efficiency and forward planning, it had to be achievable.

She went back to the wreckage of the rear wall, to examine it from the inside. It would be quite easy for an intruder to get into the kitchen if he or she realised what was going on. The biggest risk, Thea supposed, was from unauthorised squatters – but the days had long gone when they could make free with an empty house, the law impotent to eject them. She had raised the question with Gladwin, who could speak for the owner of the house on every topic, apparently. ‘I’m pretty brave,’ Thea said, ‘but even I might feel a bit nervous about sleeping in a house with no back door. And Drew’s really agitated about it.’

‘Don’t worry – we thought of that. The builders have made a temporary thing between the kitchen and the rest of the house. You’ll see. It’s almost medieval in design.’ Now Thea had a look, and found two stout brackets fixed to the door frame halfway up, and a plank to slot into them. It was ugly and clunky, but it worked.

The conversation with Gladwin had taken place the week before, over a quick drink in the Broad Campden 20pub. Thea had been full of questions, characteristically. ‘I’m not really worried,’ she said, once answers had been comprehensively supplied. ‘The crime rate around here is pretty minimal, after all.’

‘Give or take the occasional murder,’ Gladwin smiled. ‘But I wouldn’t have suggested the house-sit if I thought you were in any danger. Mind you, there’s been a spate of pop-up brothels.’

Thea had assumed this was a joke, until the police detective enlightened her.

‘No, they’re perfectly real,’ Gladwin insisted. ‘Mostly people from the Far East, with girls who thought they were coming to respectable lives and jobs. Trafficking, in a word. They move into an empty house, set up shop for a while, and then melt away if somebody starts to show any concern. My friend Tabitha would not like that at all.’

‘No,’ said Thea faintly. ‘I don’t suppose they tidy up after themselves.’