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After months of speculation about what might be concealed in Alice’s garden, at last I was on the other side of her metal fence. At first there was nothing to see but an overgrown tangle of bushes. The moon was out, and with the help of Alice’s torch we picked our way among stout weeds and tall brambles, along a pathway flattened by being walked on many times. Carefully we walked towards the tall tree in the far corner. Barely able to control my curiosity, I followed her to the corner of the garden. Under the shelter of the magnificent tree, she bent down and pulled at several rusty bolts which appeared to have been cemented into the ground. Having slid the bolts across, she grabbed hold of a thick metal ring which was attached to what looked like a paving stone. Grunting, she raised t
