date 15 August, just over two weeks ago. Wesley studied it, noting each story
in turn. It was home news: a brutal murder in the Cotswolds; a keeper mauled to death at a zoo in the Midlands; a big rise
in house prices in the southeast. But in the top right corner of the page was a black-and-white photograph of three men and
a beautiful young woman with long dark hair. They were standing in front of some scaffolding, all smiling dutifully for the
camera. The caption beneath read ‘Members of the restoration team at the lost gardens of Earlsacre in South Devon pictured
in front of the proposed new arts centre’. Wesley recognised two of the men: the trust Director, Martin Samuels, and Jake
Weston the archaeologist. But the other man and the young woman were unfamiliar.
He began to read the short article aloud to Gerry Heffernan. ‘Work on the important lost gardens of Earlsacre in South Devon
continues as the team of experts and archaeologists hurry to beat their deadline ready for the official opening of the gardens
in October. “An autumn opening and the completion of the main archaeological work give us the opportunity to prepare the gardens
for a spectacular display next spring.” Trust Director Martin Samuels (pictured above left) told our reporter that Earlsacre
is a fascinating example of a rare Renaissance garden and many garden features still remain from the seventeenth century …’
‘Like skeletons,’ mumbled Heffernan. ‘Carry on.’
Wesley took a deep breath and continued reading. ‘Including an ornamental walled garden with a sixteenth-century gatehouse.
Project historian Claire O’Farrell (pictured above right) said that there were still many exciting discoveries to be made
about Earlsacre Hall’s past. The work has been generously supported by the Simeon Foundation of the USA as well as by local
people and the Department of Heritage. Martin Samuels and his team have additional reason for celebration as it has recently
been confirmed that money from the National Lottery will go towards the restoration of Earlsacre Hall to create an arts centre.’
Wesley looked up. ‘That’s all, sir. Just a standard article.’
‘Maybe he kept it for something else on the page. What about this murder in the Cotswolds? Could he have been connected with
that? Or maybe he planned to visit the zoo? Or wanted to buy a house in the south-east?’
Wesley pushed the sheet of newspaper towards the inspector. ‘If you look carefully you’ll see he’s marked the article about
Earlsacre … see those pencil crosses? And Mrs Fielding said he asked her about Earlsacre. It seems he was taking quite an
interest in the place.’
‘But why, Wes? And why keep this tatty bit of newspaper under his mattress like something valuable?’
‘Perhaps when we find out who he was we’ll know the answer.’
Neil Watson rested on his spade. There was a chill in the air but digging was hot work. But he knew that it wouldn’t be long
now before they reached something interesting; the foundations of the structure that had stood against the east wall of Earlsacre’s
walled garden. But first the topsoil had to be removed from the marked-off trench and, as he suspected the remains lay close
to the surface, Neil had rejected the idea of using a mechanical digger, which might damage any delicate finds. The geophysics
results had been promising: the print-outs from the machines that measured the electrical resistance of the soil, giving a
computer picture of what lay beneath, had shown the outline of a small square building, possibly a summerhouse or grotto built
by some Lantrist of old to impress his neighbours. Hopefully they would soon find out.
He looked across at his colleague, Jane, a classy blonde in tattered jeans and a white shirt tied at the waist, and smiled.
He had worked with Jane for over a year now. They knew each other’s ways. But heharboured no romantic hopes: Jane’s
in turn. It was home news: a brutal murder in the Cotswolds; a keeper mauled to death at a zoo in the Midlands; a big rise
in house prices in the southeast. But in the top right corner of the page was a black-and-white photograph of three men and
a beautiful young woman with long dark hair. They were standing in front of some scaffolding, all smiling dutifully for the
camera. The caption beneath read ‘Members of the restoration team at the lost gardens of Earlsacre in South Devon pictured
in front of the proposed new arts centre’. Wesley recognised two of the men: the trust Director, Martin Samuels, and Jake
Weston the archaeologist. But the other man and the young woman were unfamiliar.
He began to read the short article aloud to Gerry Heffernan. ‘Work on the important lost gardens of Earlsacre in South Devon
continues as the team of experts and archaeologists hurry to beat their deadline ready for the official opening of the gardens
in October. “An autumn opening and the completion of the main archaeological work give us the opportunity to prepare the gardens
for a spectacular display next spring.” Trust Director Martin Samuels (pictured above left) told our reporter that Earlsacre
is a fascinating example of a rare Renaissance garden and many garden features still remain from the seventeenth century …’
‘Like skeletons,’ mumbled Heffernan. ‘Carry on.’
Wesley took a deep breath and continued reading. ‘Including an ornamental walled garden with a sixteenth-century gatehouse.
Project historian Claire O’Farrell (pictured above right) said that there were still many exciting discoveries to be made
about Earlsacre Hall’s past. The work has been generously supported by the Simeon Foundation of the USA as well as by local
people and the Department of Heritage. Martin Samuels and his team have additional reason for celebration as it has recently
been confirmed that money from the National Lottery will go towards the restoration of Earlsacre Hall to create an arts centre.’
Wesley looked up. ‘That’s all, sir. Just a standard article.’
‘Maybe he kept it for something else on the page. What about this murder in the Cotswolds? Could he have been connected with
that? Or maybe he planned to visit the zoo? Or wanted to buy a house in the south-east?’
Wesley pushed the sheet of newspaper towards the inspector. ‘If you look carefully you’ll see he’s marked the article about
Earlsacre … see those pencil crosses? And Mrs Fielding said he asked her about Earlsacre. It seems he was taking quite an
interest in the place.’
‘But why, Wes? And why keep this tatty bit of newspaper under his mattress like something valuable?’
‘Perhaps when we find out who he was we’ll know the answer.’
Neil Watson rested on his spade. There was a chill in the air but digging was hot work. But he knew that it wouldn’t be long
now before they reached something interesting; the foundations of the structure that had stood against the east wall of Earlsacre’s
walled garden. But first the topsoil had to be removed from the marked-off trench and, as he suspected the remains lay close
to the surface, Neil had rejected the idea of using a mechanical digger, which might damage any delicate finds. The geophysics
results had been promising: the print-outs from the machines that measured the electrical resistance of the soil, giving a
computer picture of what lay beneath, had shown the outline of a small square building, possibly a summerhouse or grotto built
by some Lantrist of old to impress his neighbours. Hopefully they would soon find out.
He looked across at his colleague, Jane, a classy blonde in tattered jeans and a white shirt tied at the waist, and smiled.
He had worked with Jane for over a year now. They knew each other’s ways. But heharboured no romantic hopes: Jane’s
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