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difficult to find.
    The large trees, however, cut out the sunlight and reduced the air temperature. Where this might have been desirable in a tropical climate, it was not such a good idea in England, with sunshine always at a premium.

    She found the makings of a late-afternoon tea and sat in the dwindling patch of brightness on the bleak little patio, thinking about her mother. On reflection, it seemed obvious that there could be no plan to stay at Thistledown for the whole fortnight. Why, in that case, should Oliver go to the expense of employing a house-sitter? He had mentioned a conversation with his brother, in which an agreement had been made that there would be a visit – but clearly it was only to be brief. From long habit, Thea found herself analysing her own feelings on the subject, only to discover that she already felt proprietorial over the property and its birds. She did not want trampling feet and loud voices to frighten away that lovely woodpecker. She would risk boredom, and even another dive into depression, rather than take responsibility for amusing her mother. Over her various house-sitting commissions she had been joined by sisters, daughter and boyfriend, not always very happily. When she embarked on this way of life, she had envisaged peaceful interludes withher dog, perhaps making new friends in the different villages, but not sharing the places with relatives. Yet somehow an expectation had arisen that she would welcome them; an expectation that clearly persisted.
    The awkwardness of the approaches to Thistledown, whether from front or rear, made it difficult for anyone to arrive without warning. And yet neither Thea nor her spaniel detected any advance sounds of footsteps before the visitor appeared. Hepzie looked up as the shadow fell across her, and emitted a low snarl that startled Thea.
    ‘Gosh! How did you get here?’ she said, squinting up at the figure standing between her and the sun. The dog’s animosity raised no great alarm in her breast – Hepzie had never been a very reliable judge of character.
    ‘I just walked up from Vineyard Street. I knew there’d be nowhere to park down here. You must be the house-sitter.’
    ‘Yes, I am. And you are …?’
    ‘Melissa. Oliver’s niece. I think my father is going out with your mother.’

Chapter Four
    Put like that, it almost made them sisters, Thea supposed, with an instinctive recoil. She had enough sisters already, and she was already thinking unworthy female thoughts as she inspected this slender, tanned creature who could apparently tread so lightly as to make no sound.
    ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Is it you he’s staying with?’
    ‘What? Oh … no, that’s Mo. She’s my half-sister . She’s twenty years older than me.’ She spoke with a strange sort of emphasis, an iambic line that felt rehearsed but seldom spoken. A little laugh added to the artificiality. Thea was faintly alerted to uncomfortable family business.
    ‘So …?’ she invited. ‘What brings you here?’
    ‘Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you. The thing is, Uncle Olly’s been keeping some of my stuff for me,in the back room, and I came to collect one or two things. I’ll be in and out before you know it. What a dear little dog,’ she added, with such insincerity, Thea wondered that Hepzie didn’t snarl again.
    She felt decidedly wrong-footed. Should she ask for proof of identity? Was she meant to defend the entire house contents against such an obvious scam? After all, anybody could show up like this, with just such a cover story, and make off with all the best silver. The impression that the opening lines had been prepared in advance gave rise to a wariness that bordered on the fringes of suspicion. The reference to the older sister, which had probably been intended to sound convincing, had instead alerted her to something not quite right. Suddenly the name
Mo
re-echoed.
    ‘Mo?’ she said. ‘Short for Maureen?’
    ‘I guess so. We don’t call her that,