‘Don’t you worry yourself, Mrs Thwaite,’ she said gently then. ‘Because I don’t think Mrs Stellion need necessarily know that you robbed her. And mebbe she suspects you’re a drinker, but I reckon she doesn’t need to find that out for sure. After all, you won’t be coming back to work at the Hall, will you? You’re going to write to say you’ve decided to retire. So it’s all done with. I’ll keep your nasty little secrets and in return I continue as housekeeper and you can live here happily with your sister and never set foot in the Hall again. Mrs Stellion gets to keep her money and her gin in future, so everyone’s happy.’

She looked around the little sitting room for the first time, seeing old-fashioned, slightly damp-mottled wallpaper and yellowed paintwork, the patterned curtains at the bay window faded in stripes, the hearthrug threadbare. There were a couple of dead flies on the windowsill and dust on the mantelpiece. ‘Mebbe Mrs Hillier needs a housekeeper,’ she suggested drily.

Mrs Thwaite began to cry again.

‘Well, Mrs Thwaite, it was lovely to see you. I’m sorry your arm is giving you so much pain that you won’t be able to return to work. Still, Mrs Stellion isn’t too upset about that because I can manage the job that used to be yours – but isn’t any longer – walk Coco, as well as keep the lady amused when she’s bored. Yes, Edith and I are becoming very close,’ she added.

‘Go! Just go,’ said Mrs Thwaite, both tearful and furious now.

‘Yes, I’ll see myself out,’ said Gina cheerfully. ‘And don’t worry, I shan’t tell a soul that you robbed your employer of her money and her gin. Not unless I’m forced to. You get busy writing that letter, eh? It’s best that she isn’t upset by learning what you’re really like.’

‘That’s rich, coming from you,’ gasped Mrs Thwaite, rising up from her chair. ‘Let me remind you I know all about the money that went missing from the village shop in Little Grindle, and that it was you that took it.’

‘It’s odd you should mention that,’ said Gina, temper flaring. ‘You see, I’m the one with the job of housekeeper at the Hall, while you are a thief who’s been found out and will not be going back there.’

‘Thief?’ snarled Mrs Thwaite, struggling with the word despite having been so completely exposed. ‘Well, all I can say is that it takes one to know one.’

‘Exactly!’ snapped Gina, who went out, slamming the sitting-room door in Mrs Thwaite’s face, then hurried down the hall and out of the house.

She strode along the little front path to the street, trying not to run, then walked back the way she had come, glad to turn the corner.