‘Live in the lodge!’ Both Kathy and Livvy looked horrified when their mother put the idea to them that evening.

‘If we do that at least we wouldn’t have to pay out for somewhere else to buy or rent. Then any money we did have left could go towards making the lodge comfortable, and living expenses,’ Sunday pointed out. ‘Admittedly Cissie has offered to let us all go to live with her, but I wouldn’t feel right doing that. She and George deserve their own space and this way we would still have a measure of independence, at least.’

‘I can see the sense in that,’ Kathy admitted miserably. She was still reeling from shock at what Ben had done and the way he had abandoned her, but Livvy’s chin jutted angrily.

‘But Treetops is our home!’ she spat angrily as burning tears spurted unchecked from her eyes. ‘I grew up here and I can’t bear the thought of leaving it! It is our legacy, our grandmother lived here, and all our childhood memories were made here!’

‘None of us wants to go, darling,’ Sunday said quietly. ‘But I’m afraid we have no choice. Ben has taken every penny we had, and we have to live somewhere.’

‘Then let’s walk down there and take a look at the place.’ Kathy’s face was glum. ‘Though it’s dark so we’ll have to take torches. There’s no electric in there, is there?’

‘I can’t remember if your father had it put in when we had Treetops done,’ Sunday admitted. ‘But we’ll take torches just in case.’

They wrapped up warmly and armed with torches set off down the tree-lined drive in the bitterly cold evening. The wind was howling, and a fine drizzle was falling so by the time they reached the lodge they were all soaked through and feeling thoroughly miserable.

Sunday fumbled in her pocket for the key but at first the lock resisted all efforts to open it. ‘It must have rusted up,’ Sunday told them but eventually she managed to turn it and the door creaked open. They stepped into a small sitting room, dismayed to find that it was almost as cold inside as it was out, and the whole place smelled damp and musty. The one good thing was that as Sunday shone the torch around the walls, she spotted a light switch and when she flipped it on the room was flooded with light from a bare light bulb that dangled from the ceiling.

‘That’s something at least,’ she muttered as she stared around in despair. Old pieces of furniture covered in layers of dust were dotted about and thick cobwebs hung from the beams on the ceiling like intricately woven lace.