“Obviously the village idiot,” Belinda said. She put her foot on the accelerator and we shot forward. Another bend and suddenly the driveway opened up and there was the house ahead of us. Unlike the plain Cornish stone of Belinda’s grandmother’s home this was an extravagant building. It might have started as a simple manor but had been added to by successive generations. There were towers on both corners, and gables and a broad flight of steps leading up to the front door. All in all a little Gothic and over-the-top.

“It’s a bloody great monstrosity, isn’t it?” Belinda said. “You take the simple lines of Cornish stone and ruin the place. Those Victorians should never have been allowed to build anything.”

I nodded agreement.

We crossed a gravel forecourt with an ornamental pond and Belinda brought the car to a stop. As we pulled up beneath these steps a footman in livery came out to open the car door for me.

“Welcome to Trewoma, my lady,” he said. “May I take your bags?”

He assisted me from the car seat and then opened the boot to take out our modest suitcases.

“Clearly he has been told that you are the important one and I am not worth bothering with,” Belinda muttered. She adjusted her cape and put her hand to her scarf as the wind threatened it. “Ah well.” She looked at me and took a deep breath. “Here goes, then.”

I had to smile. “You make it sound as if we were entering a lion’s den.”

“Far worse than that, darling. Still, one can endure anything for a couple of days. I have even been known to be civil to my stepmother over the Christmas holiday.”

“I have learned to be civil to Fig for much longer than that,” I said. “I’m sure it builds character.”

“I don’t know if I want my character built,” Belinda said.

“Besides, you have to give your Rosie the benefit of the doubt,” I went on. “She may have been an awful child because she felt unwanted and insecure. Now she’s mistress of her own house she may be absolutely charming.”

Belinda frowned at me. “When did you become such a sage? Has marriage really turned you into a sensible and mature person?”

“Implying boring as well? I hope not. But being with my grandfather has been a good influence on me. He always sees the best in people and never hastens to a judgment.”

“You’re right,” Belinda said as she picked her way daintily up the steps in her delicate kid shoes. “He’s a wonderful person. So was my grandmother, in her way. She was more correct and very hot on good manners and that sort of thing, but she was fond of me. The only person who was after my mother died.”