‘A rude and ill-mannered man. Certainly. However, I think that he is too intelligent to ransack garden sheds and garrotte domestic pets.’

‘Where’s he from? Do you know?’ Matt asked.

‘He has never opened his mouth to me. It was the postmistress in the village who told me he has some sort of degree or other — you know, letters after his name — and he has a lot of publications sent to him, academic journals and the like.’

‘I’ve been told he looks like a tramp,’ said Matt.

‘Do not be deceived by his looks, Mr Ballard. There is a good brain beneath those greasy locks, believe me.’

Liz decided to chance a suggestion. ‘Mrs Swain, as Matt said, we are both retired and have time on our hands. We would be more than happy to keep a discreet eye on your lovely cottage for you. If we gave you a card, then if anything should worry you, ring us and we can be with you in ten minutes.’

‘Oh no! I couldn’t be such a nuisance, honestly,’ Emilia protested, but Liz caught the relief in her eyes.

‘Liz is right, Mrs Swain,’ Matt added. ‘Why should some mindless moron get away with it? It’s totally unacceptable. We’d be happy to keep our eyes and ears open for anything suspicious.’

They stopped at her cottage and helped her in with her bags. Liz was full of admiration for the garden.

‘It’s my one passion now,’ said Emilia Swain. ‘I used to have many different hobbies and interests but now it’s just the garden — and reading. I do love my books.’

‘While we are here, Mrs Swain, could we take a look at the damage to your shed?’ asked Matt.

Emilia frowned. ‘If you want. Such a mess! I haven’t had the heart to sort it all out yet.’ She led the way around the back of the cottage and down a neatly trimmed pathway.

Approaching the large wooden structure, Liz saw exactly what Mrs Swain had meant. The lock had been wrenched off, the door itself damaged. The contents had been thrown out and most of them, it seemed, had been trampled. Emilia had retrieved a few things and taken them back into the shed, but most of it was fit only for the bin.

Matt set his jaw, angry. ‘I’ll come round tomorrow, Mrs Swain, and try to fix that door for you, and I’ll fit a new lock. We are coming over to have lunch with Will and Kate, so we’ll call in afterwards.’ He held up a hand. ‘And no arguing. I’m no master carpenter, but I can sort that for you.’

‘It’s a very good thing you ran into me, Mr Ballard, and you too, Liz. You are turning into my guardian angels.’

‘And it’s Matt, please, Mrs Swain.’

‘Then please call me Emilia.’