“At least it still has oil in it,” Belinda said, turning it up so that soft light flooded the room. She turned to examine our surroundings. “Oh, and look. There is some firewood beside the stove.”

This was now my turn to show expertise. When I had first arrived in London alone, without servants, I had learned to light a fire. I got this one going, to Belinda’s squeaks of admiration, and suddenly the room looked much better. We found a candle on a window ledge and carried it through to the rest of the house.

“Please tell me there is a bathroom,” Belinda said.

“There’s a kitchen with a big sink,” I said. I went over to it and turned on the tap. Water came out, ice cold but with a satisfying patter. I turned it off again.

“Oh, and this is the bedroom.” Belinda was also exploring.

There was just one bedroom, containing one bed, a large rickety wardrobe and a tall chest of drawers.

“It looks as if we’ll have to share the bed tonight, unless you’d rather have the sofa,” Belinda said.

“The sofa looks lumpy and not quite long enough,” I said. “At least it’s a big bed.”

“I can see that furniture shopping will be the number one priority.” Belinda left the bedroom and went back into the kitchen, carrying the candle. Not wanting to be left alone in the dark I followed her. There was an old wood-burning stove and a sink, but in the larder we made an interesting discovery. “Look. There’s some food in here,” Belinda said. “A tea caddy and some bread that’s not too stale, butter, milk, cheese and a jar of jam. . . . Someone has been here recently.”

“I wonder if your solicitor telephoned and had someone stock up on basics for you.”

“But he didn’t know when I’d be coming down. I only said that I’d want to take a look at the property before I decided whether to keep it or sell it.”

“Well then, perhaps one of the locals has been using it to go fishing.”

“Or it’s possible it was my uncle Francis,” Belinda said suddenly. I heard the uncertainty in her voice.

“Does he live down here? You’ve never talked about him.”

“That’s because I never liked him. I don’t think Granny did much either. He was the black sheep of the family, you know. My mother’s younger brother. Much younger. Never settled down, never got a job, always in debt. Gambled, drank, mixed with undesirable people.”

“So where is he now?”

“I’ve no idea. When Granny sold I heard that she settled some money on Uncle Francis but that’s the last I heard of him. Probably got through it quickly in Monte Carlo.”

“But he didn’t inherit any of your grandmother’s estate when she died?”