We parked the motorcar beside the road and took a footpath down to a small beach. Now that the tide was almost in, there was only a couple of feet of sand and these were threatened to be swallowed up any moment. Belinda strode out ahead with the confidence of one who knows her way and started to climb the rocks at the end of the beach. I followed, wishing I had put on more sensible shoes. My old Scottish brogues would have been ideal. We made our way along the shoreline, working our way around rocky outcroppings until a jetty appeared ahead of us.

“Aha. Here we are.” Belinda sounded triumphant.

She clambered up ahead of me. I followed and we found ourselves standing on a grassy bluff. Ahead of us was the house with a new conservatory added at the back. To one side was a former kitchen garden and apple orchard. To the other a new tennis court.

“My, my,” Belinda said. “We used to play tennis by putting up a net and painting lines on the grass. I wonder what they’ve done with the stables. He surely doesn’t bother to keep horses if he’s only here occasionally.”

“Perhaps he’s converted them to garages,” I said. “Most people do these days. Although I’m looking forward to getting a couple of horses for Darcy and me. I’d like to ride with the local hunt.”

“That’s what I really miss about living in town,” Belinda said. “So far so good. Come on. Let’s take a look at the house, shall we?”

I noticed that she didn’t walk straight up the lawn but rather hugged the trees to one side until we were quite close. “That’s the drawing room at this end,” she said. “And then a little sitting room, the library and the morning room facing east. The dining room was at the front.”

She sprinted across the last stretch of grass, which had been impeccably mown, and went up to the nearest window.

“Oh rats,” she exclaimed. “The curtains are all closed That is really unfair. There must be one that is open a little. I think I can see in. Goodness, what an awful color scheme. And look at that furniture. Granny would turn in her grave. Come and see this, Georgie.”

Suddenly I heard footsteps on the gravel. “Wait, there’s someone coming.” I tugged at Belinda’s coat sleeve.

Belinda looked up. A man was walking toward us. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s only Jago. I wonder what he’s doing here? Up to no good, I’ll bet. Let’s see him try and talk his way out of this.”

“Hey!” Jago quickened his pace. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Jago,” Belinda said. “We meet again, it seems. I used to live here, remember. And more to the point, what are you doing here?”