Kathleen breathed in sharply. “You will not be calling an estate agent. I’m not selling this place so please don’t waste your time trying to convince me.” Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Was every conversation with her family going to be them trying to persuade her to move, and her refusing? How dull and frustrating that would be for all of them. What was it going to take to get them to understand that she had no intention of selling? Didn’t they understand how she felt about this house?

She ignored the little voice inside her telling her that they couldn’t possibly know how she felt about the house because she’d never shared her feelings on the subject.

“Right.” Sean glanced at Liza who was dusting surfaces. “One option would be for you to stay here and we could arrange some help.”

“What help do I need? A bodyguard?”

Liza shook her head. “That man probably knew you were alone and vulnerable, Mum.”

“He was too drunk to know anything.”

Sean laughed. “I was going to suggest buying you a scary dog with an extra row of teeth, but nothing could be scarier than the sight of you brandishing a skillet in a nightdress. If the press got hold of the story, you’d be the headline.”

Liza clutched the cloth she was holding so tightly that the blood fled from her fingers. “She could have been killed, Sean.”

“But I wasn’t.” Kathleen was calm. “And if that had been the end of me—well, so be it. I will not sell this place. If you really want to do something useful, you can look for Popeye. He’s missing.”

“I’ll do that.” Sean stood, apparently grateful for something that gave him an excuse to leave the house.

“I’m going to spend the morning going through this room,” Liza said. “Clearing the bookshelves. They haven’t been touched in decades.”

Kathleen bristled. “I’d rather wrestle another intruder than throw out books.”

“But there has to be stuff here you’ll never read again.”

“Possibly. But if we throw it out we remove the option. And there is no reason to clear them. I’ve already told you—”

“You’re not selling the house. I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a good idea to occasionally have a clear out. We don’t have to rush any decisions.” Liza clearly wasn’t going to give up and Kathleen decided that the simplest solution was to allow her daughter to load a few things into boxes. It would give her a feeling of control, and Kathleen could always unload them again after she’d gone.

“In that case you can start on those shelves in the corner.”

The morning passed, bathed in tension rather than a companionable silence.

Occasionally Liza would hold up a book. “This one?”