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though. It’s terribly old-fashioned.’
    ‘My mother’s called Maureen.’
    ‘Yes. Apparently it’s no coincidence. Uncle Ollie thinks it’s rather sweet.’
    ‘Fraser named his daughter after a girl he’d gone out with for a couple of months? Blimey!’ This new light on her mother was surprisingly unsettling. ‘What did Mo’s mother think about it?’
    ‘Your guess is as good as mine. If he had any sense, he wouldn’t have told her his reason for liking the name. He probably said it was some old film star orsomething.’ The young woman was speaking easily, while looking past Thea at something in the shadowy passageway inside the front door.
    ‘Well, I’d better come with you while you collect your things.’ At some point, Thea found, she had decided to trust the newcomer enough to let her into the house.
    ‘No need,’ breezed Melissa, heading for the door. ‘I know my way.’
    ‘Yes, but …’ Thea got up from the garden seat. ‘I think I should. I mean, I only have your word for it.’
    The awkwardness was in no way alleviated by the unsmiling stare the young woman gave her. ‘Only have my word for
what
? Don’t you believe me? That’s appallingly
rude
of you.’
    Thea felt weak and cross. ‘I dare say it does, but try to see it from my standpoint. I’m being paid to stand guard over this house and its contents. That’s the whole
point
of a house-sitter. You can understand that, surely?’ She seemed to be repeating that word
stand
ridiculously often, which only made her more cross.
    The newcomer shrugged. ‘It never crossed my mind there might be any difficulty. I just need a few clothes and a memory stick. Come with me, if you must. I’ve got nothing to hide. I just don’t like being suspected of something underhand, as if I was a criminal.’
    Melissa marched ahead into the house, and through to a small dark room at the back corner.It had one narrow window, half obscured by a bush. Stacked tidily in one corner were three large cardboard boxes, with MELISSA written in marker pen and parcel tape sealing them closed. Thea had to admit that if this was a heist, it was singularly well planned. The young woman went straight to the middle box, pulling it open carefully and rummaging inside it. She drew out two long-sleeved tops and a pair of jeans. Then she taped it up again, making use of any residual stickiness in the tape. ‘The memory stick’s in the bottom one,’ she said. ‘Can you help me?’ Together they lifted the top two boxes out of the way, and Melissa repeated the process. A plastic box that had once held ice cream contained a neat arrangement of electronic gadgets, including a digital camera and something Thea could not identify. The memory stick was plucked from its nest in the corner, and everything replaced as before.
    ‘You seem to know where everything is,’ Thea said, in a grudging attempt at an apology.
    ‘I’ve been living out of these boxes for three years now. It gets to be pretty routine. I’ll have to come back again next month for some warmer clothes.’
    ‘Are you homeless, then?’ Thea looked at her: aged about thirty, expensive haircut, clean clothes, apparent good health. ‘Surely not?’
    ‘In a way, I am. Actually, it’s my job. I travel a lot, and stay mainly in hotels. I just carry whatever I can get in the car – laptop, clothes, phone. I imagine youmust be quite good at packing up and moving on yourself, doing this house-sitting stuff?’
    ‘Yes, but I’ve got my own house as well.’
    ‘I’ve got a little place in Oxford that costs me a small fortune. I sublet it when I’m away, unofficially. Anyway, Uncle Olly’s more than happy to keep this stuff for me. It’s not much to ask, after all.’
    ‘It’s not my business,’ said Thea stiffly. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something?’
    ‘No, thanks. I’ve got someone waiting for me at the pub. We’ll have a meal there and then head off up the motorway. I’m supposed to be in