Originally it had led from the portico of Holkham Hall down through the woods to the dunes and the beach beyond. Victorian picnic parties would have ridden down in carriages to eat out on tartan rugs. Somewhere in the pine woods it was said the royal family had had a beach hut. Now it led to a car park, a hut which sold refreshments in summer, and the notice boards outlining the birds that could be seen amongst the pines or out at the water’s edge, where seals basked. Midweek, in winter, it was a mile of deserted track, a foot deep in snow, the road barred, leading into the pines where the shadows were dark and green. At the top, by the main road, there was a ticket kiosk, closed up for the winter. Shaw and Valentine drove past, thudding over the sleeping policemen, through the barred gate, heading for the cluster of police and emergency-vehicle lights down by the trees. The snow clouds had gone to reveal a moonless night sky of stars. Most of the light came from the snow on the fields.
