Tess half expects the attic to be full of muddle and dust and old household implements, but it’s almost empty. There are just three boxes of the sort that whisky or wine might be delivered in near the entrance hatch, and a bit further along there’s an old sports bag.

‘There’s not much here,’ she calls back down. ‘I’ll take that video for you.’ Her hands shake as she touches the red circle on the screen and it takes her four attempts before she can make a decent recording.

She climbs back down and passes the phone to Georgia.

‘Three boxes. One says “House”, one has your name on it and one says “Finlay”. And there’s a sports bag which looks pretty old.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘Yes.’

Georgia takes the phone and opens the photo app. ‘Thank you.’

‘I did a panorama and went into all the corners, see? It’s definitely empty, apart from those things.’

‘You need to get the boxes down.’ Georgia is in instruction mode again, and then she softens. ‘If you wouldn’t mind?’

‘I’ll see how heavy they are. They went up the ladder so they’ll come down it, I guess.’ Tess climbs back up.

*

‘Kitchen!’ says Georgia, when everything has been retrieved.

Tess is taken aback by the urgency. ‘I think we’ll need to clear the big table first. It’s covered in paint charts.’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Georgia looks at Tess. ‘Ever had anything to do with the police?’

An image of Patrick’s garden at Craiglockhart flashes across Tess’s mind. She dismisses the thought. ‘Never.’

‘That’s a pity.’ Georgia picks up the smallest box. ‘I think we may need some detective skills.’

Tess admires Georgia’s restraint. She is quite sure that she herself would have put the attic treasure on the drawing-room floor and opened the boxes immediately. But Georgia is, she is learning, a stickler for doing things in the right order.

Chapter 63

July 2011

Over the last week the broom in the kitchen has been put to good use, as have the dustpan and brush, the vacuum cleaner and finally the trusty string mop and galvanised bucket. The table is back in the middle of the room and is acting as Planning Central with leaflets from Farrow & Ball and samples of wall tiles and flooring.

Georgia looks at the boxes. ‘Let’s do the sports bag first. It’s probably just old kit.’

FJB is printed on the front near the clasp.

‘Finlay John Black.’ Georgia runs her fingers over the initials before opening the clasp. ‘He lived here, a long time ago.’ Inside is what’s left of a cricket sweater, bound with blue around the V neck, and very much the worse for being a century old. ‘Outside!’ demands Georgia. ‘I don’t want moths in the house.’