Long after he had gone Sunday sat staring dully into space wondering what her beloved Tom would make of all this. She was sure that he would have been heartbroken but what was done was done and all she could do now was try to get on with things to the best of her ability.

Chapter Twelve

At precisely eleven o’clock the next morning a smart automobile pulled up outside Treetops and a very presentable gentleman stepped out and stood for a few seconds surveying the front of the property as Sunday peeped at him through the snow-white lace curtains. He was very tall and distinguished-looking with thick, silvery grey hair and a small, neatly trimmed beard. Sunday thought he might be about the same age as herself, but she didn’t have long to think on it because within seconds he had rung the doorbell and after hastily checking her hair in the tall, gilt mirror in the hallway she hurried to answer it.

She had made an effort with her appearance today and with her hair twisted into a neat French roll on the back of her head and wearing the smart two-piece blue costume that matched the colour of her eyes, she looked every inch the lady of the manor as she greeted him.

‘How do you do. You must be Mr Willerby?’

His eyes were openly admiring as he shook her hand warmly and she noticed that they were kind and friendly with a twinkle in them. For some reason she had convinced herself that she wasn’t going to like him. He was possibly about to be the new owner of her home, after all, but she found it very difficult not to.

‘Welcome to Treetops, Mr Willerby. Do come in.’

As he stepped past her into the hall he smiled. ‘Why, this is quite charming,’ he said appreciatively, and she found herself smiling back.

‘Thank you. Perhaps we should start upstairs and work our way down?’ she suggested. ‘Then when you have seen the house, George, a dear friend of mine who has lived here with his wife for many years, will show you around the stables and let you see the horses.’

‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

She took his hat and hung it on the coat rack and they made their way upstairs. Almost two hours later Cissie brought a tray of tea into the day room and, while Sunday poured for them both, he told her, ‘The house is just what I’m looking for, Mrs Branning. I shall go and see the agent who is in charge of the sale directly I leave here. And I understand from our mutual friend Mr Dixon that we will be neighbours?’