The drive to the gates of Wickham Hall was short and straightforward. The drive from the gates to the Hall’s front door was much more complicated. The road twisted and turned, with a ridiculous number of unnecessary crossroads, while signposts Emma and Bee assumed were there to help turned out to be deliberately misleading. Twice, the two women were fooled by large mirrors, and they only just avoided a nasty crash when a stretch of road up ahead proved to be a frighteningly realistic painting on a brick wall.
‘His Lordship did love his tricks and puzzles, didn’t he?’ Bee gasped.
The final signpost stood at the junction of three roads. ‘Sphinx, Maze and Wickham Hall.’ Bee pointed to the arm indicating Wickham Hall. ‘That seems to be the way.’
Emma put her foot down. ‘Which is why I’m going the other way.’ She followed the arm pointing towards the maze.
After a minute, they passed a giant plaster sphinx, before pulling up in front of the imposing facade of Wickham Hall.
‘Watch out for trap doors,’ Emma muttered as they made their way up the stone steps to the front door.
‘Yeah, right,’ said Bee, laughing, though she checked the steps underfoot when she saw that Emma wasn’t smiling.
The door was opened by a severe, middle-aged man, who, literally and metaphorically, looked down on them.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Emma. ‘I’m Mrs Crane and this is Mrs…’
‘Jones,’ said Bee.
‘We’re from a local charity shop. We wondered if we might have a word with someone about recent
