‘Morning again, Nell,’ Gina called as she passed, and managed, with a well-timed kick, to tip the wheelbarrow onto its side, spilling the soggy brown debris of spent flowers onto Nell and the gravel, and casting her cardigan and satchel onto the ground. ‘Whoops, sorry!’ Gina called as she rode on, not looking back.

She continued round behind the kitchen and left the bicycle in one of the outbuildings. Then she went into the house via the kitchen door. Even Gina knew it wasn’t her place to use the front door when she arrived, though already she dreamed of a time when it would be. As she’d said to Ellen, you have to dream big dreams if you want to get on in life. And now she had this strange, new and rather frightening power that she didn’t yet understand. It couldn’t just be a coincidence that the sheep had died, could it? Gina questioned herself once again and came to the same disturbing conclusion: she had killed the sheep by mistake. No one need ever suspect, so her secret was safe. She had already resolved to be more careful in future.

Mrs Bassett was at the kitchen table, rolling out pastry.

‘Good morning, Mrs Bassett,’ said Gina.

The cook looked up. ‘Good morning, Ellen Arnold. Would you get me some taters, please, and I think there’s a bit of salad ready under those cloches. Mr Arnold will show you.’

‘Oh, I’m not Ellen,’ said Gina, laughing, but politely. ‘I’m Georgina.’

Mrs Bassett looked puzzled. ‘But I thought your name was Ellen. Aren’t you working in the garden with Tom Arnold?’

‘Oh, no. The garden’s nowt to do with me, Mrs Bassett. I’m working for Mrs Stellion,’ said Gina, and went through the door into the corridor, then up the stairs to the green door and on into the hall, amused at leaving the poor woman plainly confused.

She quickly collected Coco’s lead from the boot room and then went to find Mrs Stellion and her puppy in the morning room, where she’d met the lady the previous day.

See, only one day in, and already you’re going about your business in the house quite happily.

When she thought of the previous day and how Nell and Uncle Tom had come bowing and scraping up the back stairs, she almost laughed aloud.

She knocked on the closed door, heard the call to enter, and in an instant the little dog was yapping and panting around her feet. He was a bonny young fella and it would be easy to become fond of him, she decided, and if she meant to make herself indispensable, Coco could be a real asset. She bent to greet him with almost equal enthusiasm.