“I can’t. Mother is back home from the hospital and she’s still very unsteady. I can’t leave her overnight.”

“Oh. Well that’s good news about your mother. Grim for us, though. How will I survive the weekend without you?”

“With your usual stoicism, I expect. Where is Aunt Edie going? She’s not moving in with that Wally chap?”

She stumbled over a tree root and felt his arm tighten to support her.

“No, she’s found a hotel in Maidstone that has boarding for long-term residents. They seem to have a few of her sort there already.”

“Does she have a sort?”

“You know—educated gentlewomen of modest means.”

“Goodness—what a title. I thought she was determined to stay in her house and go down in a blaze of gunfire.”

“Thankfully, I think that was an exaggeration. The prospect of another winter in the house was a bit daunting. It’s a beast to keep warm and there’s no hot water.”

“What will happen to all her things?”

“She can take a little with her. The rest will go to the auction house, the salerooms, jumble sales. The thing is, she wants to sell the house and give me the proceeds.”

“That’s very generous. Are you her only nephew?”

“Yes—she said it’s all coming my way eventually, so I might as well have it now so that I can come to some sort of financial settlement with Gretchen.”

There was a loud cracking of twigs, and a dog came bursting through the trees and bounded toward them. It was a large, muscular setter, brown and shiny as a conker.

“What a beauty,” said Howard as it jumped up and planted its front paws on his chest, leaving muddy prints on his tweed jacket.

He stroked its head and ears before gently disengaging himself. The dog wheeled around and plunged back into the woods. Howard laughed and dusted himself down.

“I don’t like the idea of Gretchen living in that apartment. I’ve not seen inside the place myself but to hear Margaret, you’d think it was a hovel.”

“It’s certainly not what you’d call cozy.”

“So that’s my good news. Good for everyone. I’ll be able to set Gretchen up somewhere comfortable without having to move from Burdett Road.”

“Aunt Edie’s very thoughtful,” said Jean, not quite meeting his eye.

He caught the lack of warmth in her tone and turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders and peering at her troubled expression.

“What’s the matter? Have I said something to upset you?”

“Not at all.” Jean tried to laugh but it emerged as a sob, which had to be quickly swallowed. “You haven’t asked me what my news is.”

“My God, I’m sorry.” He pulled her toward him and held her tightly; she could feel her ear grinding against his. “Is it your mother?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” She took a long breath. It had to be done. “I saw Gretchen on Wednesday. She wants to come back to you. She realizes she’s made a terrible mistake.”