Grace moved her bags over the threshold and closed the door behind her. She looked at me again and smiled.

‘Nice earring.’

I put my hand to it self-consciously. ‘It’s my lucky charm. I wear it when I’m painting.’

‘Still?’ Grace gave a little laugh and looked more closely at me. I noticed the crow’s feet that feathered from the sides of her eyes as she smiled.

‘You look well,’ she said. ‘Married life must suit you.’ Her tone was slightly barbed, or was I imagining it? I held her gaze and she looked away first. ‘Nice place,’ she said. ‘Can I have a tour? I’m dying to see it.’

I started to move but she was faster than me, already off down the hallway, her head turning left and right as she took in my home, her fingers trailing across the new paints and papers, as if she were feeling for what lay beneath. I followed in her wake, trying to see the house as she would. She’d always loved interiors.

‘So you bought this house?’ she asked, nodding. Approval, I thought.

‘Yes. We’ve done quite a lot of work.’ A lot of work, actually.

She stopped at the old grandfather clock.

‘Nice.’

I followed Grace into the kitchen, where she stopped abruptly and did a double-take, her brow furrowed.

‘Wow.’

And I kicked myself at once: why had we gone for white gloss and chrome? Of course we could have done something less flashy, more in keeping with the history of the house: soft wood, stone, warmer colours that better reflected the Victorian architecture. But Grace didn’t wait for an explanation; she swung around and headed into the open-plan living area, which we’d created by breaking down the wall separating the old sitting room from the boxy old dining room that had been barely larger than an eight-seater dining set. Gone were the previous owners’ gaudy sofas, replaced with two big, squashy leather pieces bought in the John Lewis sale.

‘Oh,’ she said, looking around. ‘Interesting.’

‘It’s much more practical than it was,’ I said. I was pleased with the new space. ‘The dining room was small. You could barely fit people in as well as the furniture.’

‘Do you do much entertaining?’ Grace asked, her head tilted sideways, but she knew the answer to that. We both knew the answer to that, so I gave a little self-deprecating laugh to show I knew she was joking.

‘Shall we go up?’ she said. ‘I’m dying to see the rest.’

‘Be my guest,’ I said, waving her on since we’d already established she was leading this tour. I picked up her bags and followed, dumping them on the upstairs landing as she pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

‘Nice,’ she said, and I was glad we hadn’t done too much to the room – just updated the decor.