THREE
The back of the house opened onto a vista that was almost as impressive as the front. I’d seen many formal gardens in my time in England, but the expanse of green that lay before me wasn’t anywhere near the word “formal.”
“More like wild,” I said to myself as I dropped my bag at the steps leading up to a stone verandah, and stood considering the expanse of green, unevenly mowed lawn that stretched to the left to two small outbuildings, and what looked like a stable. To the right, the lawn led to a wall of dark green, probably a hedge marking a smaller garden, and a large red and white striped marquee tent. A small marquee sat in front, with a wooden sign reading REGISTRATION leaning haphazardly against a card table. Over the top of the hedge, I could see another marquee, this one y
