It was mid-afternoon by the time Clare arrived at Bailsgrove and the one person she hadn’t been anticipating she’d encounter on-site was Margaret Bockford.

Margaret offered a wry smile, ‘Well, that’s a fine sort of greeting. I’m not entirely sure it should be considered a surprise to find a professor of archaeology on the site of an archaeological excavation.’

Clare flushed bright red. ‘Well, no …’

Jo saved her any further embarrassment. ‘I called her after you phoned me.’

Clare struggled to disguise her displeasure. ‘Why? I told you, I’m perfectly OK. And, besides, you said you wouldn’t tell anyone else.’

Jo said, ‘That’s not how I recall it. I actually agreed not to phone David.’

Clare turned to Margaret. ‘I’m sorry, Margaret, but this has been a waste of your time. Whatever Jo has told you, I’m perfectly fine.’ She held her arms out wide. ‘Look – all in one piece – just fine and dandy.’

Margaret peered over the top of her spectacles and exchanged a look with Jo that Clare knew only too well. ‘That remains to be seen, young lady. But I believe your friends are entitled to show some level of concern for your well-being.’

Clare sighed. ‘It’s not that I’m not grateful that you’re both concerned, but honestly there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. The flat’s all sorted now and as it turns out they barely took anything. The police think that arriving when I did, I must have disturbed them before they could take much of any real value.’

Jo stood, wide-mouthed. ‘You didn’t say anything about the burglars still being around when you got there.’

Clare blustered, ‘No, well …’

Margaret said, ‘I think we need to have words, young lady.’ She turned to Jo. ‘Is there anywhere we can go for a quiet chat?’

Jo poked her head inside the door of the welfare unit. ‘Come on. In here.’

Clare couldn’t quite believe this was happening to her. In the past twenty-four hours she’d single-handedly encountered a burglar, dealt with the police, cleared up the aftermath of a crime scene and signed the contract for a house purchase. And now she’d returned to the excavation that she was supposedly directing, only to find she was about to be given the third degree like some sort of recalcitrant teenager.

Margaret directed Jo and Clare to sit. Clare reluctantly followed orders, wedging herself into the corner beside Jo. She was dying for a cup of tea but with Margaret standing in front of them in full professorial mode, it somehow didn’t seem like the moment to ask.

Margaret said, ‘Right, that’s better. Now let’s get one thing straight, Clare. Jo rang me because she was concerned for your welfare. I think we’d all agree that’s an acceptable and responsible attitude for a friend to take.’