It was all white and hessian interior, with sumptuous Christmas decorations and bouquets of festive flowers in deep reds and creams thrusting out of tall gold vases.

A huge white and silver Christmas tree, like something out of Narnia, welcomed guests in the foyer.

My attention was drawn to an immaculately attired willowy lady with a curtain of ghost-grey shoulder-length hair. She was dressed in a long tunic and matching wide-legged trousers, topped with a set of shiny wooden beads.

Her tanned, lined face broke into a surprised smile when she saw Flynn. “Goodness me! What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be meeting some girl reporter.”

Flynn shot me an embarrassed look.

“That’s me, Mrs Talbot. I’m Leonie Baxter.”

“And I’m with Leonie, Grandma.”

Astrid Talbot took my hand and shook it, but her attention was taken up with her grandson. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone and a journalist too.” She forced a smile but it didn’t reach her rheumy powdery-blue eyes.

“Oh, we’re not together. I mean, not like that! Good grief, no!” I rushed, letting out an awkward laugh.

Flynn examined me with a quizzical arch of one brow.

I was relieved when he stopped looking at me like that and moved in to embrace his grandmother. Astrid proffered a cheek, on which he grazed a brief kiss.

“Another reporter, eh Flynn? You certainly like to live dangerously.”

I almost gave myself a crick in my neck as I turned to look at Flynn. Another reporter? What was that about?

Momentary annoyance flickered across his face. Then he shook it off.

Astrid Talbot indicated for us both to sit opposite her in a secluded alcove section of the reception area. She rested her manicured hands on top of one another. “So, what’s this all about?”

“It’s a bit delicate, Grandma,” conceded Flynn beside me. “It’s about Merry Wood.”

“What about it?” She pursed her pink frosted lips. “You mentioned the house when you rang me the other day.” She gave a theatrical shiver. “I was glad to be shot of the place. I never liked it. Goodness knows what your grandfather saw in it.” She flicked back her hair. “We were lucky that someone else wanted to take it off our hands.”

I frowned at her. Merry Wood must have been a lovely house. It still was. It desperately needed some TLC, but it still had all the hallmarks of being a grand property and the gardens were spectacular. They could be even more wonderful once returned to their groomed, manicured state.

“That’s the point,” I ventured. “It transpires that Merry Wood was never sold.”

Astrid Talbot shook her hair, sending it flying against her cheeks. “No. That’s not right. I don’t know where you got that nonsense from, young lady.”