Her jaw set tight, Naomi slammed the trunk of the car. She tried to stem the growing seed of resentment. Reminded herself that this wasn’t Morgan’s fault. It had been her idea to buy the cottage. Morgan was only looking out for her dad.

Naomi watched Morgan return to the house. A creeping sensation of discomfort grew, as real as the ivy clinging to the walls of the cottage. The ivy leaves gave a collective rattle as another breeze swept over them. She threw one last glance over her shoulder into the depths of the woodlands before hurrying back inside. She’d need to get sensor floodlights, blinds for the windows, burglar alarms. Then she had the renovations to contend with once she’d picked the bones of the cottage clean. Her mental checklist of things to do was exhausting. But at least Ed had lit a fire, which had warmed the room. She fixed a smile on her face as Morgan unrolled her sleeping bag and plugged in her laptop to a socket that had seen better days. They would all sleep in the living room tonight. The previous tenant’s beds had been removed at Naomi’s request. She drew the line at sleeping on somebody else’s mattress.

‘Feels better already.’ Ed threw his arm over Naomi’s shoulder, a broad grin widening his face. ‘Come and show me the kitchen, I’ve not seen it yet.’

But she’d seen that look before. That twinkle in his eye. He had a secret to share. But unlike her, he was harbouring a good one. No doubt a kind gesture destined to make her smile. Taking a deep breath, she followed him through. But as he opened the door, she blinked beneath harsh spotlights that she didn’t remember being in the ceiling. The room had never been this bright before.

‘What . . . ?’ Her words falling away, she took in the shiny chrome, the granite kitchen counter, the new stone flooring underfoot.

This was not the kitchen she had viewed. This was not the Ivy Cottage she remembered. And it was certainly not the same room from which the Harper family had disappeared.

‘You’ve had it renovated,’ she said at last, cupping her mouth as she tried to conceal her disappointment. It was just how she had planned it. The Aga, the middle isle, even the pots and pans hanging overhead. ‘How?’ she uttered, tearing her gaze away. The whole room had a clean, newly painted smell.

‘The rest of the house will follow in time,’ Ed said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I got the ideas from your Pinterest board.’