Jo said, ‘Do you think it’s Marshall? He wants us gone.’

Neil said, ‘Maybe, but there were threats before. When we were digging here with Beth.’

Val cut in, ‘It’s true, Jo. I found a note shoved under the office door when I opened up one morning telling us to clear out or face the wrath of the old souls. And someone trashed the Portaloos. That wasn’t a pretty sight, let me tell you.’

Jo stood with her mouth open. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell the police?’

Neil said, ‘We did. But they just thought it was local louts mucking about.’

‘Jeez, why did any of you guys agree to come back here?’

Val looked up at her. ‘Simple. There are no jobs in archaeology out there. We needed the money.’

Malcolm poked his head through the door to announce that the car was ready, and Val was duly clucked and fussed over as she was loaded gently, but still protesting, into Neil’s car.

Returning to the site office, Malc and Jo flopped down into the chairs.

Malcolm said, ‘I’ll kill the bastard if I get my hands on them.’

‘I get where you’re coming from, Malc, but that’s not gonna help anyone.’

Malcolm growled, ‘Maybe not, but it’d make me feel a hell of a lot better.’

‘Neil was saying you saw what happened.’

Malcolm nodded. ‘Yeah, I was just on my way down to get some more finds bags when I saw it. They were hanging round outside the gate for a bit. At first I thought they’d maybe lost their dog or something. Then they just ran round to the front of the office and lobbed that thing’ – he nodded towards the corner – ‘in through the window. After, they legged it.’

‘Did you get a good look at them?’

‘Not close up. They were wearing a waxed jacket and a big floppy hat with the brim pulled down.’ After a moment’s pause, Malcolm added, ‘Bit like that hoity-toity piece who came round shouting the odds at Clare.’

Was it possible? Had it really been Sheila Foggarty? The description could have fitted half of the middle-class inhabitants of Gloucestershire. But she was the only one who’d already picked a fight with them.

It had been one hell of a day and after what had happened none of them felt like wielding a trowel. As soon as they’d swept away the shattered glass and boarded up the broken window, Jo had told the team to pack up and go home. They’d all agreed readily enough, except Malcolm, who in a somewhat unexpected display of chivalry had insisted on hanging around until Jo had left site too. An offer she was only too grateful to accept, and in recompense for which she’d promised him a lift home.