‘Green man,’ he said, peering at the picture. ‘Pagan symbol. There’s grapes and peaches woven in too, and I doubt there were many Reivers around these parts got to feast on them that often. Down there, but the name of Meg Kinmont: that’s what they call an intaglio, an engraving on a flat surface. Two fish suspended from an anchor. That were the sign of the early Christians so the stone they used must have come from the wall. That little shape there – I’d say that’s meant to be a horse – and there’s carvings of a full moon and two running hares below the worst of the moss. Going to be a major job to make it like it was.’

‘Is that what you’ve been asked to do?’ I asked.

‘No, they just want a bodge job. Tidy it up and salvage what I can. But I’ll try and put it back best I can. Seems important. It’s stood 400 years, I don’t want to be the mason who couldn’t get it back on its feet.’

‘Have you cleared the site?’ I asked, and I moved closer to Cordelia. Our shoulders were almost touching. It felt nice, like there were two of us and one of anybody else.

‘Had the lad up yesterday. Dragged the tree free with the tractor and I’m sad to say that’ll be getting the saw. Rotten through. Hollow, like an Easter egg. We’ve stacked it at the top of the field down to the river if you want any firewood. With that out the way it’s not as bad as you’d fear. Table slab across the top is still in one piece and the door held up better than I feared. Lock snapped clean off but that’s these new locks for you, I suppose.’

‘It had a new lock?’ asked Cordelia. It sounded an odd question, even to me, but Harper was like any other man when it came to talking about the things he was an expert in and just seemed glad to be asked.

‘Aye, new lock, new hook, new bracket. First thing to break. Two of the supporting slabs have gone too.’

I coughed, sounding feeble. ‘And the bodies?’

‘No bodies, love. It’s just a monument. You might think there are shelves in there with corpses laid out but it’s empty inside save dead birds and a few rat skeletons and empty lager cans.’

Cordelia turned to me. Her hair had become entangled with an earring and I had to fight with myself not to tidy her up.

‘Somebody’s looked after it, then,’ I said, focussing on Harper. ‘Honest, I always thought the bodies were inside.’