Ella’s eyes grew wide as her gaze travelled up the sweeping staircase. One of the emptied rooms had been Ella’s bedroom although she hadn’t stayed a single night in the house since the divorce. Derek had let her take everything that was hers and it had remained a rarely used guest room ever since.

‘Sorry, should I have warned you?’

‘I know it’s your furniture and you have a right to do what you want with it,’ Ella replied, ‘but …’

‘You don’t have to tell your mum,’ Faith replied, feeling a swell of sympathy for her stepdaughter, caught in the middle of a battle that was already won as far as Faith was concerned.

‘Can I take a look?’ Ella asked, hanging her coat on the polished oak newel post.

She took the stairs without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the largest of the three emptied rooms. Her old bedroom was bare apart from the bin bags the antique dealer had offered to take away.

‘I can’t decide what to do with those,’ Faith explained when she caught up with Ella. ‘If there’s anything you want, please take it.’

Unable to watch Ella tear open the bags, Faith pulled back a curtain and looked out across the gardens. The detached house was in a prime location in Woolton Village and although it was only six miles from Liverpool city centre, she could see more treetops than rooftops. Glimpsing the dense woodland that marked the boundary of Woolton Golf Course, she felt a pang of sadness as she recalled the raucous dinner parties she had hosted for Derek and his golfing buddies. Her heart suffered another blow when she turned to find Ella scavenging through the remnants of the life that had been wrenched from her.

‘It’s all his rubbish,’ Ella said, straightening up. ‘I don’t want any of it.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Faith replied, clenching her jaw. ‘He cared a lot about you.’

‘Dad cared only for himself. You’re lucky he didn’t live long enough for you to work that out.’

This was Rosemary talking, not Ella, and any argument would be useless. There were times when Faith wished she could wash her hands of the whole family, but since Derek’s death, she and Ella had formed a friendship of sorts and for as long as Faith remained in this house, she was the curator of Derek’s legacy and his daughter was a part of that.

Faith tipped back her head and blinked hard before returning her gaze to Ella. ‘I loved your father,’ she whispered. ‘Can you at least respect my feelings?’