“Aunt Avery!” she said as the door finally creaked open, freeing a spider to bolt for freedom. “It’s so wonderful to see you again!”

The Aunt was an honorific title. Avery Basing had been her grandmother’s oldest and closest friend, and godmother to Lizzie’s own mother, Annie.

“Elizabeth!” The old lady enveloped her in a hug. She was warm and smelled of a very expensive perfume. Her marketing basket bumped Lizzie’s hip, making her wince. “It’s lovely to see you too! You’ve grown!” She let Lizzie go and swept past her, small but stately, into the kitchen, where she put the basket down on the worktop. “My, you’ve some cleaning up to do here. It’s a good job you’ve come home at last.”

Lizzie laughed. “Neither the house nor I are fit to be seen.”

“Juliet rang me just now to ask me to look in on you,” Avery said. “I didn’t want to intrude earlier, but really, Elizabeth—” she glanced at the clock “—it’s about time you were getting dressed, isn’t it?”

Lizzie laughed. She had always liked Avery’s no-nonsense style. “Absolutely,” she said. “Excuse me and I’ll go and do that at once.”

She was away up the stairs and into the shower before Avery could say another word. By the time she came back down, feeling clean and warm in a variety of outlandish outfits from the wardrobe including two pairs of her grandfather’s knitted wool socks, a polo neck jumper and an old tweed jacket, Avery had put the kettle on and there was a delicious smell of warm croissants filling the kitchen. It was a start, Lizzie thought, although the house was still chilly and smelled of damp. The ancient wiring was buzzing threateningly. Lizzie wondered if it would blow all the fuses in the house. Bill, it seemed, had done a cosmetic refurbishment of the place to make it look nice to let, but had cut corners on costs, which was exactly what she would have expected of him.

“Juliet’s told me what’s been going on.” Avery was ensconced at the big farmhouse table. “I hear the police are barking up the wrong tree and the press are behaving as badly as they usually do.” She shook her head. “Really, Elizabeth, this celebrity business isn’t good for you, you know. You need a break from it all.”

“Well, I—” Lizzie started to say but Avery was still talking.

“We’re all so pleased to have you home.” She beamed at Lizzie, her bright blue eyes the most vivid thing in a face deeply lined with age. “You can help with the choir and join the new bowls club, and at last I can get someone in to cut down those dreadful Leylandii trees that are knocking my wall over. That awful caretaker you employ—what’s his name—Ben, Barry, Bob?—Well, I’m sorry to tell tales, dear, but he’s never here and when he is, he’s so rude! I’ve asked him time and time again to get the Virginia creeper cut back because it threatens all the brick work and he told me that if I organised anything myself that affected your house or garden, he would sue me. I’m afraid he’s a bad lot, dear.”