12 of the best UK breaks to celebrate spring

From blossom trails to bluebell woods, and foraging to farm stays, here are some of the finest seasonal getaways

The Woods of St Francis – 5

“My, my,” said Knowles to himself, “I thought my place was a time capsule, but it’s got nothing on this.”   

He looked at the matching Staffordshire dogs on the mantelpiece, the record player in the corner, Constable’s ‘Hay Wain’ on the flock wall-papered walls, and the cocktail trolley by the window, with fully stocked bottles he noted, and smiled. This had the potential to be a National Trust property from the 1960s / 1970s. He was relieved to see that there was no sign of a pet in the house, no cages, litter trays, dog collars, or aquariums. Not even a goldfish bowl. No need to get the animal shelter involved. Andy Bowen had lived alone.

Knowles looked in the kitchen and had a surprise. The fridge was well stocked with vegetables and fruit, and there were no processed foods. All this made Knowles wonder whether Bowen had turned over a new leaf recently, literally in the salad’s case – or whether he hadn’t included exercise in his daily habits yet. These things take time, as Knowles knew only too well. The milk smelled fresh. The food bank would love all these items. In the dish rack were one plate, one bowl, one spoon, one fork, and one knife, plus a mug full of water in the metal sink.

Some letters were in a letter rack on the counter, containing requests for payment that the estate would have to settle. There was a ticket stub for an event that Knowles didn’t recognise. He popped this in an evidence bag. There was a date on the back, stamped in red ‘25-02’, which presumably was 25th February this year. What events had taken place on Saturday, 25th February? He’d ask Linda to find out.

Barnes came into the Lounge. 

“Anything odd up there?” asked Knowles.

“He made the bed, all neat and tidy. The usual assortment of shirts, T-shirts, trousers, and shoes plus two jackets. He also has a replica England shirt and a Manchester United top.”

“I wonder if he’s a football fan then or just tries to fit in with the crowd?” asked Knowles, “there’s a ticket here for an event, would any local football teams have been playing on 25th February?”

“Well, there’s only two really who would issue tickets, that‘s Scoresby Town and Scoresby Rovers. I will check on my phone to see if either of them was playing on that date.”

As Barnes played with his phone, Knowles looked at the computer on the table and the answerphone. There were no messages. He took the computer and placed it in an evidence bag for the Forensics team to investigate. 

“Well,” said Barnes, “it looks like it was a local derby on Saturday 25th February, Scoresby Town were at home to Scoresby Rovers and it finished as a 2-2 draw, with both teams down to nine players, 4 red cards and 12 yellow.”

“A competitive game then,” said Knowles, “a typical lower league game with the ball only incidental on occasions.” 

“I hadn’t realised you were such an expert on local football clubs, sir,” said Barnes in surprise.

“I’m not, but I remember someone talking about it on the Monday afterwards, because I think things threatened to get out of hand when one player was sent off and some crowd members tried to remonstrate with him about his behaviour. There were three police constables there, and they calmed things down. It’s strange because there were only a few hundred at the match and yet there was almost violence, because one player kicked the ball at another player who he thought was feigning injury.”

“You have a splendid memory, sir,” said Barnes.

“It was the first thing I heard after coming back from my holidays, Barnesy, and I remember thinking that not much had changed during my time away.”

“I see, yes, you would remember that I suppose. Have you found anything out of the ordinary?”

“His computer is in this,” said Knowles, holding up the evidence bag, “it’s just a little Chromebook laptop by the looks of it, nothing fancy, presumably he didn’t use computers that much. As for other things, his last meal was on his own, and he cleaned up afterwards and washed and placed all the items in the dish rack, apart from the mug in the sink. The fridge is well stocked and all of it is healthy. Was there anything in the bathroom up there? And is there another room?”

“The bathroom was just a bath with no shower and very little in the cupboards other than the usual stuff, shaver, toothbrush, toothpaste, cotton buds, mouthwash. And yes, there’s a storeroom next to the bathroom with a spare bed that has no bedding on it, plus empty boxes for both a TV and what looks like an exercise bike.”

“An exercise bike? I wonder where that is? I haven’t seen that.”

Manton Rempville – 4

Knowles and Barnes drove back to Scoresby station and immediately headed to the forensics laboratory, hoping that Dr Crabtree would have some news for them.

         “Well, Colin, I don’t have that much to tell you, really. You know some of it already. Stabbed in the back with some force by someone slightly taller than the 5ft 7 inch victim – the blade has followed a slightly downward trajectory – victim died instantly and fell in a heap on the ground causing the blade to buckle and bend slightly, so that the murderer was unable to remove the sword cleanly although they had a good go, causing the exit wound to be very messy indeed. There are no fingerprints on the sword whatsoever.”

         “Really? So the murderer was wearing gloves,” said Knowles, “go on Dr Crabtree.”

         “We found a red thread on the hilt of the sword, which looks as though it has come from a sheet or towel used to hide the sword from view.”

         “No great surprise there,” said Barnes, “few people could carry a sword without alerting suspicion of some kind.”

         “Whereas carrying a large red towel is perfectly normal and wouldn’t be in any way uncommon,” replied Knowles, “although it was probably carried in a bag for the most effective disguise. What material is the thread?”

         “I think it’s cotton, Colin, we can have it analysed for you.”

         “Yes, please Doctor, I like to be thorough when analysing evidence.”

         “Of course, Colin, that won’t be a problem.”

         “And now the all important question – what was the time of death approximately?”

         “Well, I am almost certain the time was 11:06pm.”

         “Give or take an hour or so?” said Barnes.

         “Give or take 30 seconds,” said Knowles. “The doctor is indicating that the victim must have smashed his watch when he fell dead to the ground – are there any fingerprints on the watch?”

         “We’ll have to check, Colin, and let you know when it’s been dusted.”

         “Thank you – I wonder whether he would have smashed his watch though, if he fell on to the grass.”

         “The watch face was broken by something” said Dr Crabtree showing Knowles the watch enclosed in a plastic evidence bag.

         “Indeed it was, but there’s no indication it hit the grass, no soil, no colouring of green. Were there any stones lying around where he landed?”

         “Let’s look at the photos, shall we?”

         The men walked over to the doctor’s table and examined the photos that showed the ground around Pritchard’s left hand.

         “There are no stones around where his left hand and wrist would have landed, so what could he have hit the watch on?” pondered Barnes stroking his short beard.

         “There’s nothing obvious is there, so either the killer did it to fool us or it was broken before he was killed,” replied Knowles. “Doctor, what do the other signs tell us about his time of death?”

         “They more or less fit with the watch. I would have put the time at between 10:30 and 11:30 p.m. last night. Perhaps 11:45 p.m. at the outside.”

         “Interesting, so I wonder why half-an-hour could make so much difference, if the murderer knew the body wouldn’t be found until the morning?”

         “It has to be to establish an alibi, sir – I can prove I was with Person X at 11:06 p.m. and they will verify that, whereas half-an-hour earlier or later and that alibi would not hold.”

         “Indeed, Sergeant, we shall have to ask our questions very carefully when we meet our suspects.”

         “You have some suspects already, Colin? That was quick work.” Dr Crabtree readjusted his glasses with some surprise.

         “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t call them suspects yet, as I haven’t even met them, but I was referring to the people who live at the Hall near Manton Rempville. Adelaide Hills saw some people behaving suspiciously when she discovered the body and they must have all come from the Hall.”

         “Try not to bring class politics into the conversation, Colin, especially when there’s a case to be solved.”

         “Right, wait until afterwards, you mean?”

         “Something like that, yes, and don’t forget that Sir Michael Johnson, who owns Manton Rempville Hall, is a personal friend of the Chief Constable, and any complaints will go straight to that level.”

         “Thank you for the warning, Dr Crabtree, I will bear what you say in mind, but I do have to find a murderer after all and that’s the main aim of my investigation. Now, do you have a nice picture of the sword that I can show to the people at the hall, preferably one that doesn’t show it sticking into Mr Edward Pritchard? That would be quite tasteless, wouldn’t it Sergeant?”

         “It would indeed, sir, because we do need those people to be able to easily identify the sword and not have their recall impaired by seeing a dead body.”

         “We have a nice picture here, Colin, which people will enjoy looking at.”

         “Thanks, Doctor Crabtree, my compliments to the photographer.”

         With that, Knowles and Barnes left the lab and headed over to Manton Rempville Hall in Barnes’ sleek white sports car, which Knowles thought would impress the upper-class individuals they were about to meet.