Today they were tackling the large quantities of cutlery that lay in the polished wood canteens, unused from one month to the next. In her parents’ day the Hall had thrown more than its share of huge dinner parties but Grace and Charles had been less hospitable, preferring smaller supper gatherings for close friends in the early days, and then almost no entertaining at all when Charles had been so often away from home. Now that she was on her own, Grace couldn’t imagine that the silver cutlery would ever see the light of day again.

Still, it needed keeping on top of so that it didn’t tarnish beyond rescue. The pair of them, both wearing white cotton gloves to prevent grease transferring from finger to blade, had a system, and they worked companionably side by side, chatting about small inconsequential matters as they polished. Grace was just thinking how lucky she was to have her daughter at home when a bellowing voice sliced through the quietude.

‘Bloody hell!’

Hector was on the warpath. Again. Grace and Clio exchanged glances, Clio rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

‘Now what?’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you put up with him, Mum. Ever since Dad died he’s being a total pain in the backside. Anyone would think he was the only person in the world who had ever lost their father.’

‘Go easy on him, Clio,’ replied Grace gently. ‘He’s still struggling but he’ll adjust, given time.’

Clio harrumphed. ‘Well, I’m sick of it,’ she muttered under her breath as Hector stormed in, pushing the open door with such force that the hinges creaked in complaint.

‘That bloody house,’ Hector spat as he approached.

‘Which house?’ asked Grace, although she had a pretty good idea.

‘The one in Whitley Bay. The woman who lives there is playing silly beggars. She has rung the solicitors with some cock-and-bull story about owning the house outright. The solicitors weren’t fooled, of course, but now they want to check everything out before they’ll take any further action. More delays.’

Something between panic and anger forced Grace to her feet.

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘Why did she ring the solicitors? Did you instruct them to write to her? After I specifically told you to leave the poor woman alone? You may manage my estate for me, Hector, but please don’t forget who it belongs to. You had no right to contact the solicitors when you knew that I had specifically told you not to.’

Grace spoke calmly but there could be no mistaking her fury. Hector opened his mouth to defend himself and then closed it again. He ran his hand through his hair and Grace saw the image of her husband in her son, although she never remembered Charles looking as cross as Hector did at that moment.