‘So much for safeguarding the nation’s heritage. If you had any interest at all in protecting this site you’d want to find out more about this.’ Snatching the paper out of Clare’s hand, she turned and marched back in the direction of the site entrance. As she strode towards the gate she half turned and waved the sheet in Clare’s direction. ‘And don’t think I won’t write to the vice chancellor about your attitude, young woman. It’s shameful, truly shameful.’

David swung the Land Rover in through the field gate, narrowly missing the woman in the waxed jacket. Stopping, he flung open his door, turning towards her to apologise, but she’d already stormed past him shaking her head and muttering, ‘Appalling. Simply appalling.’

He could swear he’d heard her say something about contacting the vice chancellor. What the hell was going on? He’d driven up from Salisbury in the hope of a few hours’ respite from the Runt, who seemed to be positively revelling in the financial straits in which the Hart Unit currently found itself. Anyone would think that he wanted them to fail – and of course they’d be right. Nothing would please the little shit more than being able to present the dean with an excuse to eject David from the department.

‘Hi, David. Fancy a brew?’

Clare sounded distinctly fed up, and she looked knackered as she trudged downslope towards him. He hoped he wasn’t going to live to regret putting her in sole charge of the excavations. He knew that technically she was perfectly capable – if truth be told, he sometimes thought more capable than he was – of directing her own dig. But it looked as if the added knowledge that, unless this excavation went to plan, the unit would have to close was weighing on her more heavily than he’d expected.

‘Love one.’ He nodded in the direction of the lane down which the woman in the Barbour had disappeared. ‘What was all that about?’

‘I’m tempted to say “don’t ask”. But unfortunately I think there’s something you need to know.’

He didn’t like the sound of this one little bit. It was obvious that Clare was finding things tough. But with the teaching commitments Muir had piled on him this year there was no way he had the capacity to take Bailsgrove on as well. However difficult she was finding it, she was just going to have to stand on her own two feet with this one. At least Jo was going to be around some of the time – though she had teaching commitments of her own. Maybe he could give Margaret a call and get her to drop by now and then to keep an eye on things.

A few minutes later the two of them were sitting clutching mugs of tepid brown liquid in the site office.