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bought in the village shop.
    Sitting on a bench seat next to the porch, Daniel leaned against the brickwork and half closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun, which, near its zenith, found its way through the trees along the path forged by the road.
    His relaxed state was rudely interrupted by Taz who suddenly scrambled to his feet and set up a furious barking, his hackles rising in a tide over his shoulders and along his back. His attention was fixed firmly on the woods on the other side of the lane.
    Daniel sat up, putting a hand in Taz’s collar to keep him close, and stared intently at the tree line.
    Nothing. No movement and nothing that appeared out of place. A word quietened the dog to a low, continuous growl, but his gaze remained focused on the woodland and he strained against his collar. Daniel wondered if Taz could see or hear something that his own limited senses failed to, and considered letting him go to investigate.
    He decided against it. After all, he had no real reason to believe that whoever was there was up to no good, and to be cornered by a large German shepherd was a terrifying experience.
    The woodland was a mixture of deciduous and conifer trees, and there were probably large quantities of deer, foxes and badgers in its depths, but Daniel discounted these. He knew Taz, and the dog wouldn’t have reacted in that way just for wildlife.
    Putting his mug down on the doorstep, and still with a firm hold on Taz’s collar, he walked down the garden path, through the open picket gateway and across the narrow tarmac lane to the edge of the wood. Here, a brief search turned up nothing to see, but Taz was quite clearly excited by what he could smell, concentrating his interest on the area beside a large oak, where closer inspection found a slight indentation in the leaf mould and a dark stain where dry leaves had been disturbed to reveal the damper layer beneath.
    So someone had been there, but they were doubtless well on their way now. Had it been the vandals from yesterday, returning to see whether they had achieved their object?
    If so, they would have been disappointed, Daniel reflected with grim satisfaction.
    â€˜Good lad,’ he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. He’d never have found the place without Taz. He took a soft furry toy from his pocket and tossed it to the shepherd. The squeak had long gone, but Taz enjoyed the sensation of mouthing it and it was his reward for a job well done.
    Ripping out the floor in the old cottage took far longer than Daniel had anticipated, and by the time he’d piled all the contaminated floorboards and chipboard outside, along with the smashed furniture, the afternoon was well advanced.
    Although it was tempting simply to put a match to the whole pile where it sat, the dry conditions and the proximity of the woodland made that course of action nothing short of stupid. The creosote-soaked material was highly flammable and he lit only a small fire, painstakingly adding a little at a time and keeping a close eye on it until he’d burned it all.
    By the end of the afternoon, he was bone-weary and his eyes were smarting and red-rimmed from a combination of fumes and smoke. However, the cottage was clean, and as long as he left the windows open for a few days, he felt it was safe to move in. There was hot water aplenty, courtesy of a fairly modern boiler, and Daniel ran a bath and sank into it with the intention of soaking for half an hour or so.
    This pleasant plan was foiled after a scant ten minutes when the sound of a vehicle pulling to a halt outside heralded the arrival of Jenny’s Land Rover, pulling a trailer piled high with an assortment of items which included, amongst other things, a small leather armchair, a mattress and a coffee table. Daniel greeted her from an upstairs window with a towel wrapped round his waist, the irritation at having his bath interrupted instantly banished by gratitude.
    Dressing hastily in a clean