Perhaps there was something else in it for her boss, though. It had come out the day before.

'Do you have any connections with the Forest?' he had asked her.

'Not that I know of, John,' she replied. 'Why, do you?'

'Funnily enough, I do. My family was pretty big down there in the last century. There's a whole wood named after us, I believe.' He gave her a smile. 'You might like to work that in, perhaps. If it fits, of course.'

'Yes, John,' she had said wryly. 'I'll see what I can do.'

They flew over plantations and brown heather heath for ten miles. The terrain was wilder and barer than she had expected; but as they came to Lyndhurst, at the Forest centre, the landscape changed. Groves of oak, green glades, open lawns cropped by stocky little New Forest ponies; pretty thatched cottages with brick or whitewashed walls. This was the New Forest she knew from picture postcards. They followed the line of the old road that led south through the middle of the Forest. The oak woods were thick below them. In a glade, she caught sight of some deer. They passed over a village in a huge clearing, its open green lawns dotted with ponies. Brockenhurst. A small river appeared now, flowing south, through a lush valley with steep sides. Here and there she saw pleasant houses with paddocks and orchards. Prosperous. On a high knoll on the valley's wooded eastern side, she saw a squat little parish church, obviously ancient. Boldre church. She should visit that.

A minute later they were over the harbour town on Lymington and its crowded marina. To the right, on the edge of some marshes, a sign on a large boathouse proclaimed: SEAGULL'S BOATYARD.

The English Channel lay a few miles away to the west. Beneath them was the pleasant stretch of the Solent water with the green slopes of the Isle of Wight beyond. As they flew eastwards now she looked from the map to the coastline.

'There,' she said with satisfaction. 'That must be it.'

The pilot glanced across at her. 'What?'

'Througham.'

'Never heard of it.'

'Nobody has. You will, though.'

'Do you want to fly over Beaulieu?'

'Of course.' This would be the setting for the opening sequence. Far below them the lovely old abbey precincts lay tranquil in the sun. Behind, screened by trees, was the famous Motor Museum. They circled it once, then headed north again towards Lyndhurst.

They had just passed Lyndhurst and were flying northwest towards Sarum when Dottie asked the pilot to circle again. Peering down, it took her a few moments to locate her target; but there could be no mistaking it.