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aunt’s words as she climbed up to Dale End and smiled wryly. Gammy was rarely wrong. A Land Rover was parked at the side of the house, its tracks dearly outlined in the overgrown drive—the only vehicle to use the path for many years.
    The heavy front door stood open. Taryn walked inside, her shoes making a staccato of sound on the bare boards. She thought now, as she had on her first visit, how strange it was that the house should be completely bare. She had somehow expected everything to be as it was when the old man died, but instead it had been divested of carpets, curtains, furniture, the lot. Not so much as a box remained to give an indication of its previous owner. It made their job easier, without a doubt, yet it gave the house a curiously detached air. Again she gave an involuntary shiver and looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see old Henry’s ghost. When someone spoke she cried out in surprise.
    ‘There’s no need to be nervous, lass. Didn’t you know I was here?'
    As the owner of the gruff voice moved into the shaft of sunlight that filtered in through the open door Taryn breathed in relief. This was no spirit—a tall, broad man in his early fifties, skin weathered to a rich mahogany and twinkling blue eyes that watched her with amusement.
    She nodded. ‘I guessed you were, but it’s this house, it gives me the creeps.’
    ‘There’s nothing here to be afeared of,’ he said. ‘I guess you must be Miss Penreath? The gaffer told me you’d be coming. Andrew Shire’s the name, but I’d be pleased if you’d call me Andy.’ He extended a brown, work-worn hand.
    ‘And I’m Taryn,’ she responded. ‘Has Luke—Mr Major—left any instructions? He showed me around yesterday, but apart from telling me which room he wanted for his study he said no more.’
    ‘I’ve a plan here.’ Andy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘The gaffer has made one or two suggestions, but he says you’re in charge of the whole operation.’
    Taryn was amazed that Luke should give her so much responsibility. What did she know of his likes and dislikes, his tastes, his preferences? And how did he know he could rely on her? He knew she hadn’t done this type of work before. He really was a most trusting man.
    ‘See here,’ Andy stabbed at the paper with a grimy forefinger, indicating the south-western tower room, ‘This is to be the day lounge, because it gets the benefit of the sun for most of the day, and next to it ’
    But Taryn was no longer listening. Her eyes had travelled across the page to the elevation of the first floor, and the room immediately above the day lounge. There was nothing extraordinary in what she saw, so why the sudden tightening in her throat?
    Andy followed her gaze. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s Mrs Major’s room; he was most emphatic about that. Said it must be the best one. Mr Major’s next to it, here, and he wants an adjoining door putting in and a bathroom opposite. Everything else he said I could leave to you.’
    ‘I see.’ So Luke was married. Somehow she had imagined him to be single—like Mark—or as Mark had been, she quickly corrected herself. He too would be a married man by this time. She felt vaguely disappointed by her discovery, yet was at a loss to understand why, and something else puzzled her too—why separate rooms? Did he not share his wife’s bed? Was there disharmony between them? These were questions she could not answer. Another thought sud denly struck her. ‘Has Luke any children?'
    ‘Why, no, lass,’ replied Andy. ‘What must you be thinking of?’
    She felt even more disturbed by the strange look he gave her. ‘I just wondered,’ she said, ‘that’s all. If you’re ready we’ll make a start.’ She looked about her at the dingy walls covered in faded brown paper, falling from the corners as if pleading to be removed. The doors too were dark brown, flaking and dirty. It was a large, lofty hall, with stairs leading up from either