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darling, and put you to bed. Zoe’s coming to look after you and read you a story.’
    ‘Zoe?’
    ‘The babysitter. I’m on night shift tonight.’
    Luke was shocked. ‘You’re going to work? Tonight?’
    Her look was steady and Luke almost felt embarrassed. Yes, she could communicate very well non-verbally. Bills needed to be paid, the look said. Mouths needed to be fed. Not everybody had the luxury of being able to afford designer coats. Some people had no choice about having to work, no matter how difficult it might be.
    ‘Robert’s here, as well.’ Amy motioned towards the lanky boy who was now washing dishes. ‘He’s fourteen and he’s our man of the house.’
    Luke could hear the pride in Amy’s tone. He could see the way the corner of Robert’s mouth twitched—as though he was suppressing a pleased smile. The teenager didn’t turn towards them, however. Instead, he spoke gruffly to the younger boy beside him.
    ‘Get those bowls off the table,’ he ordered. ‘They need doing, as well.’
    ‘That’s Andrew,’ Amy told Luke. ‘He’s eleven.’ She smiled at the boy. ‘You’re doing a great job, Andy. Thank you.’
    The twins had disappeared, presumably into the bath, but the two girls were still at the table and Luke raised an eyebrow. Seeing as they had started introductions, they might as well finish.
    ‘Chantelle’s eight and Kyra’s twelve,’ Amy said cooperatively. ‘They’ve both been living with us for nearly two years now.’
    ‘Amy?’ Chantelle had her hands full of paper loops. ‘Can we put these on the tree now?’
    Amy nodded. ‘And then it’s bed for you and homework for Kyra. I’m going to put Summer to bed now and get changed for work.’
    ‘OK.’ The girls headed through the door.
    Luke suddenly felt as though he didn’t belong there. He should get out of the way and let Amy sort out her unconventional household.
    ‘I still need to talk to you,’ he warned.
    Surprisingly, Amy nodded. ‘Give me a few minutes to get Summer to bed and the other children organised. Unless it can wait until tomorrow?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’ Luke wanted to get it over with. He had no intention of coming back here tomorrow. Or any other day, for that matter.
    Amy disconnected the tubing from the oxygen cylinder and gathered Summer into her arms. A few minutes later, the boys finished their task of clearing the bench and also left the kitchen. Luke found himself alone, the noise of activity and voices fading into the distance.
    He scanned the room. The old range still had spots of burnt sauce all over it. The table was a mess and it looked as though somebody had had a tantrum with the contents of the hutch dresser. Why was it being emptied all over the floor like that? Had Amy been searching for something?
    Like a will?
    Was there another will that would have left the house to its current occupants? His information was that the only will ever recorded by Giovanni Moretti had been made shortly after his marriage to Caroline Harrington in which he had left all his worldly goods to his wife and any children they might be blessed with. His wife had died over thirty years ago, however, and he’d never bothered to locate his child. It was quite possible he would be less than happy with what had eventuated.
    Well, tough! If he wasn’t getting what he wanted, it was exactly what he deserved. Even if he had made another will, Luke could contest it and no doubt win the case easily as the closest living relative.
    Still…Luke felt uncomfortable. Movement seemed a good distraction and it could be useful. Already he could see things that made this house substandard, like the old cooker, the dripping taps, the bare light bulbs and the peeling paint on the ceiling. Was the rest of the house in even worse condition? A list of such inadequacies would strengthen his case that better accommodation would be more suitable for these people.
    And with that in mind, Luke dismissed his aversion to being