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inside this house and set off to explore.

CHAPTER THREE
    I T WAS worse than he had expected.
    Or perhaps better, given that he was looking for ammunition with which to strengthen his position.
    A large room next to the kitchen and scullery complex had a television in one corner. A fire burned merrily, safely covered by a wire screen, but the warmth and cleanliness of the room was easy to overlook.
    Luke’s attention was on several very old and mismatched couches that could well have been rescued from a rubbish dump, with their lumpy cushions and frayed fabrics. Battered toys lay scattered about, some of the lead-light windows had cracks covered with masking tape and, if he concentrated, he could feel a draft of icy air around his ankles.
    The two older boys lay on the floor in front of the television with what looked like schoolwork around them. Robert noticed Luke entering the room and he could feel the challenging glare on his back as he walked over to a set of French doors. This was where the draft was coming from but Luke could see why the curtains had not been drawn. The ancient velvet would probably disintegrate under the pressure required to pull them into place.
    Enough light escaped the room to illuminate a flagged terrace area and the shaggy edges of a large, dark garden. Luke knew it was a large garden because a plan of the property had been included with the paperwork his solicitor had sent him weeks ago now.
    Large was not really the word for it, he thought, staring out at the smudged outlines of old trees. It was vast by London standards. With the house removed, it would be easy to build an entire apartment block on the site. With Regent’s Park virtually across the road, it wasn’t reasonable for anyone to sit on private parkland that supported only one dwelling. Financially, it was just plain stupid.
    The observation he was still under from Robert made Luke vaguely uncomfortable but he was satisfied with the list of inadequacies he had noted in this room, so he acknowledged the boys with a nod and somewhat tight smile, leaving the room to cross the wide hallway where he entered what must have originally been a drawing room.
    There were more leaded windows here and the fanlights had coloured glass in an intricate pattern. The ceiling in this room was very high and the plasterwork very ornate, but it failed to impress Luke. How could it when it was a pale imitation of the architectural splendour Harrington Manor had to offer and when its condition was so bad? The paint on this ceiling was peeling off in large flakes. Probably lead-based paint, Luke decided. Dangerous for children.
    Such as the two girls who were sitting on a faded rug in front of a cavernous fireplace that contained some half-burnt logs and no doubt provided a whistling, icy draft. The girls didn’t notice Luke enter the room because they were too intent on admiring their handiwork.
    A tall but scraggly tree branch—possibly yew—was propped up in a plastic bucket that had a tartan ribbon tied around it. More of the tartan ribbon was tied in bows on the branch offshoots and it was now also draped with the strings of paper loops he’d seen Chantelle carrying.
    ‘We need an angel,’ he heard her say to Kyra. ‘For the top.’
    ‘Angels are expensive,’ Kyra said doubtfully. ‘There might not be enough money if we’re all going to get a present.’
    ‘We could make one.’
    Kyra shook her head. ‘That would be a really hard thing to make. We could make a star, though. A really big one and I think we’ve got some glitter.’
    ‘Silver glitter?’ Chantelle asked hopefully.
    ‘No. I think it’s blue. Or green. It’s left over from that birthday card we made Robert.’
    ‘Oh…That was blue. ’Cos he’s a boy, remember?’
    ‘Oh, yeah…That’s right.’
    Blue didn’t seem to be acceptable. Luke watched as Chantelle wriggled closer to Kyra and the older girl put her arm around her shoulders.
    ‘It’s still beautiful,’