But despite all that she’d allowed herself to hope that this quiet Cotswold backwater might have been a centre of worship and sacrifice before the Romans ever set foot on these islands. And to hope, too, that she’d be the person to reveal its secrets. Now, instead, it looked as if they faced the prospect of weeks of digging with nothing to show for it but blisters, a bad back and the odd visit from abusive locals. Pull yourself together, Clare! You should be grateful you’ve still got a job.

She climbed out of the trench and headed back towards the Portakabins. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Malcolm on the far side of the trench, staring intently at his patch of earth. He was wearing a puzzled expression. Over the last few weeks she’d come to learn that there wasn’t much in the way of archaeology that puzzled Malcolm.

Intrigued, she called across to him, ‘What you got, Malc?’

He shook his head. ‘I thought it was another one of those bloody pits. But now I’m not so sure. Come and take a look!’

Clare made her way over to the far side of the trench. In front of her there was a circular depression about a foot deep. As she leant over to examine it she could see there was something poking out of the surface of the soil that had yet to be removed.

Malcolm said, ‘The top of it was really loose and it had a bit of old crisp packet in it. But the stuff underneath is different. More compact. Nothing like the fills of the other modern holes we’ve found. And now there’s this.’ He waved his trowel in the direction of the dark brown earth that filled the bottom of the pit.

Clare pulled out her trowel from the pocket of her moleskins and, kneeling down, started to flick the soil gently away from the slender object that lay partially buried in front of her. It was a bone. As she worked more of it began to appear, revealing a gently curved appearance. Gradually a second bone appeared just to one side and then a third, on the other side of that. All in a neat, near parallel row.

She took in a deep breath and rocked back on her heels, looking up at Malcolm. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. ‘Ribs?’

Clare nodded. ‘Still articulated. And so tiny.’ She stood up. ‘Can you clear up around this and get it photographed? And, Malc, keep this to yourself for the minute, would you? I need to make a couple of phone calls.’