William Braithwaite was a proud man. Today was the day of days. As president of the Ragley Shed Society he was so excited he could barely eat his second sausage sandwich. It was Monday, 27 April and the inaugural Shed Open Week was about to begin. There was also the competition for Ragley’s Best Shed – the result of which was destined to enter village folklore.

For a few days the men of the village would be able to explore the secret kingdoms of their fellow enthusiasts. However, today was particularly special for William, as he had recently constructed his second shed. The first was for his racing pigeons and the new one was for the committee meetings. So, on this bright April morning, he stood in his back garden and surveyed a wondrous sight – two sheds, side by side.

Predictably, it was the day he became known in the village as ‘Billy Two-Sheds’.

Joseph was in a good mood. A new day had dawned and the eastern sky was filled with a soft pink light. In the vicarage garden the rooks were building their nests in the highest branches, the sign of a good summer to come. Joseph had left early after agreeing to meet the Shed Committee in William’s shed. The men of this esteemed body considered Joseph to be the perfect judge for their competition. He was honest and fair, a man of the cloth. What could be better?

However, the well-meaning cleric had no idea what lay in store. John Pruett had told him to proceed with caution, as the men of Ragley were very proud of their sheds and on no account must he show any favouritism. As he walked towards the larger of William’s two sheds, Joseph heard the scolding cry of a thrush as it tried to crack a snail’s shell. It was an omen that he didn’t recognize.

After being greeted by the members of the committee he was given the list of sheds to visit during the week. The winner of the title Best Shed would be announced on the village green on Saturday morning.

Meanwhile, it never occurred to any of them that a shed might be owned by a woman …

As Lily cycled on the back road from Kirkby Steepleton, a gauze of mist covered the distant fields. All was quiet as she sped along, until the harsh shrieking of a pheasant shattered the peace of the beautiful morning. It flapped its wings in fury as it tried to protect its space, then it rushed across the road in front of her. She recognized its anger and understood its intent.