Day 14

Brambles Bungalow – quite large by bungalow standards set in half an acre of land. Three good sized bedrooms, two with en-suite facilities, separate family bathroom (whatever that might imply), fully fitted kitchen with much sought after Aga Range, ample dining room with French Windows and main reception room. Front and rear gardens all well-manicured and double garage with remote opening shutter. Small fishpond in rear garden.

So that was it. Brambles Bungalow. The estate agent forget to mention the problem. Well, it was staring you in the face, it did what it said on the can. Brambles. Lovely in the autumn to make you bramble and apple pies, jams and jellies and pretty for a brief spell in summer as their tiny flowers flickered light tiny stars hidden in hedges. Nightmare to keep at bay at all times. Sucker roots that sprang up in all directions, prickles that attacked your legs through your jeans as you pass by, aphids sticking to the leaves greedy to eat lunch. Rubus fructiosus how grand it sounds. Bramble, which means impenetrable thicket, is probably nearer the truth.

And here it stood. On the edge of the bluebell coppice, hidden away from prying eyes and passing traffic. The brambles had done their job and screened the bungalow from the road. Crouching low the bungalow was secretive and hushed.

“Under the third plant pot. See if it's there.”

Julie obliged and tilted the terracotta urn to the side and there it was. Glinting in the afternoon light. The front door key.