It’s 10:10pm and my heels are sinking into the mud as I heave a wooden box from the depths of a duck pond. I pull at a rope until at last it emerges; my companion rushes forward with a key he found hidden in a picture frame behind a photo of a dog. The key turns in the lock – at first, it is too dark to see what sits within. And then a torch cuts across the darkness, illuminating a human skull.
This is not a normal Saturday night. Mere hours ago, I got my hips stuck in a genuine 17th-century “priest hole”, a hiding place once used by persecuted Catholic clergymen. The hole was built inside some stairs; its trapdoor was hidden beneath a paisley rug. I went down there to find a hidden clue (and yes, OK, to take a picture for Instagram).
