The following morning, Eva returned from the buffet table to find a man sitting in her seat and laughing a bit too heartily at something her mother had just said.

Her father looked up. “And here she is now. Evangelina, do you remember your Uncle Dominic?”

Her full name only got used when her father was deeply irritated. She’d just been asked to remove the irritant.

“I’m afraid not. Is he going to stay in my seat? It’s going to be difficult trying to eat standing up.”

Uncle Dominic laughed again, showing too many too-white teeth. “Ahhh, yes. I’ never at my best before coffee either. I’ll see you all later.”

He tried to pinch Eva’s cheek as he left but changed his mind at her glare.

She sat. “Which one’s he?”

Her father sipped his coffee before replying. “That is your Aunt Sarah’s ex-husband. Attending on behalf of their daughter, as she’s too busy lying on a beach in Costa Rica.”

“Is that allowed?”

Her mother’s smile was tight and vicious. “I dearly hope not.”

“Does that mean Aunt Sarah isn’t coming either?”

Both parents pinched the bridges of their noses, her father said. “I’ve no reason to believe she’s not.”

Her mother added. “She’s going to start screeching the instant she sees him. I do hope it’s not in public.”

Her father’s gaze went to the doorway to the restaurant. “I’m afraid your wish isn’t going to be granted, love.”

Eva glanced between her parents, both intently focused on their breakfast plates, and put her head down as well.

The hotel must have been relieved to be rid of them, for all the staffs’ polite smiles and waves as the ten or so members of Eva’s extended family were loaded into Black Cabs for the trip to the train station.

Thankfully the train didn’t have allocated seating, Eva and her parents found a group of four seats near the front of the train, most of the others had clambered in the first door they came to.

As the train began to move, Eva’s mother said. “Now, about you and Stephen—”

Eva pointedly pulled out her phone and put in her ear buds, then opened a book she’d grabbed on the way through the station. It was a bad choice – far too much sappy romance for the noir thriller cover – but better than dealing with her mother.

The little country station they disembarked at probably hadn’t seen more than two people at a time in years. There was a tour bus, enough for about fourteen people, waiting in the car park.

The driver, a grey-haired man with an easy smile, nodded to them. “You’ll be Lady Muriel’s kin then. Hop aboard.”

He loaded the cases while Aunt Sarah loudly refused to travel in the same vehicle as Uncle Dominic. When the final bag was stowed, the driver said. “Not to interrupt, but this is the only transport to Fairfield Manor. No taxis are allowed past the gates now, not after the unfortunate incident with the tabloid reporter three years ago.”

Aunt Sarah put her nose in the air. “I’m perfectly capable of walking up a drive.”

The driver looked her over; from the pale blue stiletto heels, to the floral silk dress, and the immaculate makeup and coiffure. He shrugged. “It’s two miles from the road to the house, on gravel, but it’s up to you.”

Aunt Sarah boarded the bus.

Eva hopped into the front seat beside the driver. She wasn’t about to risk Uncle Dominic as a seat neighbour.

The driver hadn’t exaggerated the distance from gate to house, Stephen would have… No, she was not going to think about Stephen.

The minibus pulled up in front of a wide Georgian house, built of light grey stone, surrounded by lawns, and perfectly clipped, square hedges. From the murmuring going on behind her, Eva was fairly sure this was the first time anyone in the bus had set eyes on Great Aunt Muriel’s home.

The front doors opened and two men emerged, both in dark suits, perfectly tailored. One man was tall and lean, with iron-grey hair and a stern expression. The other was half a head shorter, and built like a teddy bear, with a pair of half moon spectacles perched on his nose.

Aunt Sarah was first off the bus, and complaining to the men about Uncle Dominic before she’d climbed half the broad stone stairs.

The taller man raised his brows and addressed the shorter one. “An uninvited guest, Mr Rawlins?”

The shorter man tutted. “An unfortunate situation, Mr Harrison, but not uninvited as such. The man has written authorisation from his daughter.”

“And that would be?”

“Portia Smyth-Saunders.”

Mr Harrison nodded. “A note shall be made.”

As the rest of the group shuffled around the bus, collecting their luggage and complaining about having to carry their bags themselves, Eva’s eye was caught by movement in an upper window. A man was watching them.

It was too far to see him clearly, but he seemed annoyed. When he realised Eva was watching him in turn, he gave her a mocking half-smile and small bow, then disappeared into the shadows of the room behind him.

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