‘In that case,’ Ned smiled, emptying the last of the wine into my glass, ‘you’d better make sure you’re on the nice list, hadn’t you?’

Chapter 3

Ned insisted on sorting the kitchen after our meal so I took myself off for an early night. Thankfully, my former bedroom didn’t strike the same emotional response as my first glimpse of the lodge had, but I did experience a lump in the throat moment when I opened my wardrobe and found my old box of art supplies stacked inside.

Mum had been an accomplished painter and seeing the talent in me too, Dad had encouraged me to embrace my artistic gift and apply to art college after my A levels, but I didn’t. I opted instead for teaching and a more structured and stable career path. I might have dreamt of being an artist, but Dad had followed his dreams, and his actions and choices had rather put me off following the whisperings in my heart. That was about to change now, however, with the creation of my own business which utilised my skills, but it had taken me years to work my way up to doing it.

It was barely light when I woke the next morning and I felt weighed down in the bed, pinned to the mattress and unable to move. I hadn’t felt like that since the weeks after I’d answered my flat door and found two police officers waiting to impart the horrific news about Dad and which had blown my world apart for the second time.

‘Have I made a mistake in coming back here?’ I cautiously whispered into the near darkness but then the weight shifted and I felt Bandit’s warm breath close to my face. ‘Oh, Bandit,’ I said, feeling relieved. ‘It’s just you.’

I tried to shift him but he wouldn’t budge and I buried my face and fingers into his soft, warm coat. It felt surprisingly soothing and I wondered if he was one of those dogs who could sense vulnerability in humans. If so, he was probably more keyed in to my true emotions than I was. I had arrived at Wynter’s Trees with the intention of being all business, but I was already wondering if my mission was going to be as cut and dry as I originally hoped.

‘Morning,’ beamed Ned, who was in the kitchen, dressed and looking far too chipper given the early hour when Bandit and I padded downstairs. ‘Coffee?’

‘Coffee would be great, thanks,’ I said, flopping down on the sofa in front of the already lit log burner.

‘I see you’ve got company,’ Ned nodded at Bandit, who was now sitting next to me with his head resting on my lap.

‘He was on my bed when I woke up,’ I said, stroking his head. ‘Did you let him in?’