The heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a familiar figure. ‘Hello, Margaret.’

A broad smile spread across Margaret’s face. ‘Clare. This is an unexpected pleasure.’

‘Sorry to drop in unannounced. Emma told me you were busy, but I managed to persuade her I wouldn’t take up too much of your time.’

Margaret closed her laptop, stood up and navigated her way round to the other side of her heavy wooden desk to greet Clare with a kiss. ‘That’s because Emma knows very well that you’re one of the few people whose presence I welcome at any time.’ And, she could have added, it was something of a relief to see her. Particularly since David had phoned last week to ask her to drop by the Bailsgrove dig to keep an eye on things. Something that, thanks to this benighted article, she had singularly failed to do. ‘Now tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘I was hoping I might be able to pick your brains.’

‘Nothing too technical, I hope. I’ve been trying to write a paper on socio-economic relations between the Roman military and the native British population in the first century AD for the best part of a month and I’m beginning to fear the well has run dry.’

‘You’re safe with me, then. I was wondering if you could give me a little bit of background on Beth Kinsella.’

‘Now that I can manage.’ She gestured towards the door. ‘I could do with some air. Shall we take a turn around the quad?’

There was something about the quality of the light as it caressed the honeyed limestone of Breakspear College’s quad that Margaret had always found calming, even in the most trying of circumstances. And today the Oxford college where she’d spent almost her entire academic career was showing itself to best advantage. She guided Clare to a wooden bench on the far side of the immaculately tended grass square.

Clare inhaled deeply. ‘It’s beautiful here, Margaret. So tranquil.’

‘Don’t let appearances deceive you, Clare. Underneath its serene exterior this place is a snake pit.’ She laughed. ‘But there’s no denying I do love it. Now what exactly did you want to know about Beth?’

‘Picking up her excavations where she left off is proving to be trickier than I’d anticipated. I’m beginning to wonder how much reliance I can place on her records. What was she like?’

Margaret sat, hands folded neatly in her lap, considering for a moment. ‘If I had to sum Beth Kinsella up in one word I think it would be intense.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, for a start, from the very first time I met her when she was a doctoral student it was obvious she was unflinchingly focused on her research.’

Clare looked at her quizzically. ‘Aren’t all research students focused on their research?’