‘I can. My dad taught me when I was a teenager. I made a fresh colour request at least once a year and he said that if I wanted it done so often then I had to learn to do it myself.’ She smiles at the memory. ‘My room had so many coats of paint the bumps in the wood-chip paper almost vanished.’

‘There is an expectation that you will work, whether that’s paid or as an unpaid volunteer. I’m not talking about sixty-hour weeks or anything foolish like that, though, just whatever you feel is right for you, even if it’s just a few hours. If you don’t have a job at the moment, I might ask you to help me with some things that need doing. Cutting the grass in the summer or going to the supermarket. That sort of thing. Obviously, if you are ever unwell and unable to work for any reason, that would be different. Everyone is entitled to be looked after if they are poorly.’

Tess follows Georgia into a big room at the front of the house. An elaborate plaster cornice runs around the walls at ceiling height, and the room is dominated by a huge fireplace with a correspondingly large draught coming down the chimney.

‘Not the warmest room, but rather beautiful in its own way. I usually save this for women who are expecting because there’s room for a cot and all that sort of paraphernalia.’

Tess doesn’t know what to say. She feels her stomach lurch. And suddenly Patrick is back in her head again, unbidden and unwanted. She cannot think of an appropriate reply, or indeed any useful response at all. She is saved by Georgia, who ushers her out and walks across the landing to a second room, which is smaller and has a less impressive fireplace.

‘I think you should have this one.’

Tess realises that she is now above the kitchen, and she can already feel the difference in temperature. The room is empty apart from an old-fashioned mahogany wardrobe and an outrageously fluffy purple rug. She wonders why Georgia doesn’t have the big room for herself. As the thought comes into her head, Georgia answers the question.

‘In the old days the big room was the parlour, but that was long before my time. When my mother was a student at the university, she shared it with a friend, and then she lived here with my father after they got married.’

Tess isn’t sure if she should respond to this morsel of family history, but Georgia doesn’t wait.