She saw light was pouring in at the far end. The door on that side must be glass. Of course … it was a conservatory; she’d seen it from the outside. She approached, glanced quickly behind her to see that the coast was clear, then crept in and closed the door quietly.

It was quite a big room, with a high glass roof and stone floor, which was damp in places, as if the many plants in pots had recently been watered. It was very warm and the air smelled green and lush. Gina sat down in one of the basket-like chairs set between the pot plants, arranged the cushions and closed her eyes …

‘And what do you think you’re doing, young woman?’ asked a severe voice.

Gina opened her eyes and saw Mrs Thwaite standing in front of her.

‘Oh, Mrs Thwaite, I’m afraid I got lost and then it’s so warm in here that I—’

‘Lost? Really? You didn’t look like you were making much of an effort to find your way out,’ said Mrs Thwaite.

‘No. As I said—’

‘I heard enough of what you said, Gina Arnold. You may have business here playing with Mrs Stellion’s puppy, but let me remind you, that is all the business you have here.’

‘I was only—’

‘I can see exactly what you “were only” doing. I hope I don’t need to remind you that you are not a resident of this house. Your job – if “job” it can be called – is to entertain the dog, make sure he’s clean enough to be inside on the furniture and then to leave.’

Gina felt herself turning pink with fury. Entertain the dog! That made her sound as if she were the dog’s servant. Mrs Thwaite had clearly plucked up the courage to take some pathetic revenge for what Gina had said to her on that first morning. Most days they managed to avoid each other – and certainly that suited Gina, who would rather the episode about the missing money at the village shop were well and truly forgotten – but Gina knew she had overstepped the mark by being here today. Simmering with anger though she was, she bit back the insult she was about to fling at Mrs Thwaite and decided to retreat with what dignity she could.

‘Yes, Mrs Thwaite,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s all right, I’m leaving now.’ She went to the door, but the housekeeper was there before her and opened it, so that Gina knew she was literally being shown out, as if she wasn’t to be trusted. She walked back up the corridor and Mrs Thwaite followed behind her like a gaoler escorting a prisoner. In the hall, Gina forgot herself for a moment and stepped towards the front door, as she did when she walked Coco.