I could feel my stomach working up to an almighty rumble and just about managed to cover it up by grabbing a handful of crisps and crunching into them.

There was a beeping noise through the open window.

‘That’s the oven timer; I’d better go and check on lunch.’ Betsy swallowed the last drop of sparkling wine and pushed her chair back from the table.

‘Would you mind if I had a look in Ted’s office?’ I asked. ‘Perhaps I can locate the notebooks? And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to check the computer for orders too?’

She hesitated. ‘Ted was very particular about his office.’

‘I understand,’ I said meekly.

‘Betsy, don’t you think it’s time you let others help you?’ said Marjorie gently. ‘If you want to get this next harvest in for Ted, Lottie’s going to need access to his notebooks and if there are orders stacking up …?’

Betsy exhaled and her shoulders sagged. ‘Of course, I’m being ridiculous. Please help yourself to what you need, Lottie.’

She unhooked her walking stick from the back of the chair and set off inside.

‘I’ll show you where everything is,’ said Jensen, getting to his feet. ‘Excuse me, Aunt Marjorie.’

‘Take your time, love,’ said Marjorie, refilling her glass. ‘I’m going to have another search for those baked apples.’

Jensen ushered me into a small room stuffed with filing cabinets, shelves bowing under the weight of thick reference books and, in the centre, a long wooden desk hidden under heaps of papers. He shut the door behind us and raked a hand through his hair.

‘What the hell am I going to do?’ he said in a low voice. ‘The sensible thing would be to move her into an assisted-living apartment and sell the business on but I can’t see her agreeing to that.’

‘What would Paddington do?’ I murmured, reaching below the desk to turn on an elderly computer.

‘What did you say?’

‘Er … I said I don’t envy you,’ I replied, hiding my warm face behind my hair. ‘Look, give me an hour while you have lunch and I’ll see what I come up with. You never know, there might be an answer staring us in the face.’

‘Thanks.’ He turned to go and I caught his arm.

‘And, Jensen? I know your heart’s in the right place and I don’t envy the position you’re in, but leaving here would be the end of so many things for your gran. Not just the house and the land and wines but her memories of happy times too. And it would be the end of her independence.’

‘So what are you suggesting: that we leave things as they are?’