Naomi loved her bright yellow settee, but it looked painfully out of place in such an old-fashioned house.

‘Where are the giant spiders to go with those cobwebs?’ Connie pointed at the beams in the ceilings. Naomi didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d cleared the webs away yesterday, but they had soon reappeared.

Her legs warmed by the open fire, Naomi prepared to tell her sister the truth. ‘Ed doesn’t know about the Harpers.’

Connie stared at her sister, giving her the look. ‘It’ll all end in—’

‘Tears. Yes, I know,’ Naomi interrupted. It was their mother’s saying – one of many Connie started using after she passed away. As for the look . . . she wasn’t sure where that originated from, but she imagined Connie used it a lot in the police force.

‘I mean, seriously,’ Connie continued. ‘You had a nice little flat in London. You were right in the middle of the action. What possessed you to buy this place?’

Naomi looked at her sister, crestfallen. ‘Do you hate it that much? It’ll be lovely when it’s renovated. They’re coming back to finish it next month.’

‘It’s fine . . . if you like tea cosies and Murder She Wrote on the TV. But it’s not you, is it?’ Connie met her gaze. ‘And as for the stepdaughter from hell . . . You’re too young to be dealing with that.’

‘Shh,’ Naomi said. ‘She’ll hear you.’

‘Over that racket? Behave!’ Connie swigged back the last of her champagne and held her empty flute out for more. ‘I’m worried about you. This house . . . you’ll lose yourself in it.’ She glanced around each corner to the shadows thrown. ‘This case . . . it’s your siren song.’

‘Anyone would think I’d moved into the Bates Motel.’ Naomi chuckled. But her laughter was hollow. Connie was right to be worried. Even now, Ivy Cottage had the power to swallow her whole. As eager as she was to explore it, she was scared too. Because once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Even now, she had to force herself to act normally. To fit into the role of mother and housewife. But all she could think of was the family who were here before. She was living in a house full of ghosts.

‘And now you’re not listening. Seriously, I come all this way to see you . . .’ Connie said, disgruntled as she crossed her legs.

‘You were summoned,’ Naomi added, ‘by an overprotective husband. And now you’re stepping into the role. Seriously sis, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.’ Leaning forward, she topped up their glasses with the last dribble of champagne. ‘Now, can we change the subject, please? How’s work?’

‘Fine,’ Connie sighed. ‘Chelsea’s finally passed her detective exams, Jo’s split up with her boyfriend, and Derek has transferred to the public protection team.’