They could just make out high grey-stone walls. ‘You didn’t tell me we were lunching with the lady of the manor,’ Annabel said. They began the climb towards it, Grace’s arms straining from the effort as she pushed Millie ahead of her. As they drew near, the house towered above them. It was set back from the road at the end of a short gravel driveway, and formed an L-shape, a single-storey building to their left abutting the double-storey house. Four large sash windows were visible at the front, set out in a square, while trailing ivy had formed an arch over the door. A pristine burgundy four-wheel drive was parked by the entrance.

‘This place is impressive,’ Annabel said as they reached the drive. ‘Why do you think they built it here, on its own?’

Before Grace could reply, a frantic barking began from inside. The door swung open and Grace found herself staring into Meredith’s steely grey eyes. Grace was about to speak, when a large black dog bounded out from behind Meredith and launched itself at her.

‘Pippa, come here,’ Meredith commanded, and Grace watched in admiration as the dog immediately scampered back to her owner. Meredith took hold of Pippa’s collar and guided her inside, then reappeared a moment later and held the door open for them. She stood straight-backed, as though she had learned to balance a pile of books on her head at a young age and had never forgotten the pose. She hadn’t gone for the looser soft perms popular with the older women Grace knew; instead, her hair was close-cropped to her head in a pixie-style, and it suited her, highlighting her bone structure, strong lines that would never change underneath the creases of her pale skin.

‘Hello Meredith,’ Grace said, her warm smile fading a little as Meredith studied her. Grace was sure that on previous occasions Meredith had been affable, but the woman before them exuded a polite coolness, little more. Don’t judge her too hastily, she chided herself. Remember, she’s recently lost her husband. She felt a surge of empathy.

‘Hello, Grace, it’s nice to see you again,’ Meredith replied, holding out a hand and shaking with a strong, firm grip.

‘This is Annabel,’ Grace said, as they also shook hands.

Meredith glanced at the pushchair. ‘And this must be Millie.’ She knelt down to look under the shade. ‘Hello, little miss.’ Then she straightened again. ‘Well, come on in.’

They were shown along a hallway, past a wide staircase and a few closed doors, before they finally walked into a vast, high-ceilinged room. ‘Wow,’ Annabel breathed, echoing Grace’s reaction.

In the centre, a huge square table was set for lunch, silver and glassware shining atop a pristine cream tablecloth. A three-piece burgundy leather suite was arranged in one corner, and the furniture was all a matching, gleaming mahogany. But what had really caught their attention was the vast picture window that ran from ceiling to floor on one side, framing a panoramic vista. Before them lay an endless tract of moorland, the unbroken stretch of earth drawing the eye further and further away in search of focus. There was little to find except for the occasional thicket, or the odd solitary tree standing sentinel. Without buildings to obscure it, the sky made up the larger part of the picture, and today it was a cloud-spattered backdrop of washed-out blue.

‘We had the window put in over a decade ago, when we did some major work on the house.’ Meredith had followed their captivated stares. ‘When the heather is out in the autumn, the whole landscape turns a royal purple – it’s quite a sight. Well, come and have a seat at the table. I’m afraid I don’t have a high chair …’

‘Oh, no problem.’ Grace looked over at Millie. ‘She’ll be asleep for a while, I think.’ She took in the smell of roasting meat, and her mouth began to water. ‘Can we do anything to help?’

Annabel set a bottle of red wine in the middle of the table. ‘We brought this. Would you like me to pour?’ She set about opening the bottle, while Grace marvelled at how easily Annabel made herself at home wherever she was.

Meredith was heading out of the room. ‘Thank you. I’ll just go and check on lunch.’

While they waited, Grace guided the pushchair into a corner and took a seat at the table. It was set for four, glinting silver cutlery laid out in perfect symmetry, next to side dishes that featured a delicate motif of apples and oranges. Annabel took Grace’s glass and poured her a generous amount of red wine, as Meredith returned from the kitchen bearing a tray of Yorkshire puddings the size of dinner plates.

‘In Yorkshire we always serve the puddings first.’ She used a pair of tongs to put a pudding on each of their plates. ‘Claire should be down in a minute.’

‘She said she was living here at the moment?’ Grace asked, as she accepted the large jug of steaming gravy Meredith held out.

‘Yes,’ Meredith replied as she sat down. ‘She’s been on her gap year for as long as I can remember. It seems holidaying is her occupation, and work is what she does to fill the time in between.’

‘It’s not holidaying, Mum,’ Claire said merrily as she entered the room. ‘It’s seeing the world. And I work while I’m away too, you know.’ She came and took her place at the table. ‘Hi Grace,’ she said, without waiting for her mother’s response. ‘And you must be Grace’s sister. Annabel, is it?’

Grace tucked into her pudding as she listened to the introductions. ‘These are delicious, Meredith.’

‘Mum’s been making them since time began.’ Claire looked fondly at her mother. ‘She’s got it down to a fine art. She may not sound like a Yorkshirewoman, but she definitely cooks like one.’

Meredith gave her daughter a wry glance, then turned to Grace and Annabel. ‘My father’s side is Yorkshire through and through, but the war changed things here. He went down to London during his conscription, and brought my mother back with him. She loved the countryside, but wasn’t so keen on the accent. She worked hard to make sure I spoke “the Queen’s English”, as she used to say. She did the same to all the children she taught, caused a few rifts with the locals around here.’

‘My father built the schoolroom,’ Claire explained. ‘The long building on the left as you come towards the house. There’s quite a history to this place.’

‘Did you go to the school here when you were a child?’ Annabel asked Meredith.

‘Yes, when I was small. When I got older I went to Ockton.’

‘And what was it like, having the school on your doorstep?’

‘Not much fun, actually. My mother didn’t want anyone to think she was favouring me, so she was horribly strict – she came down on me much harder than the other children. She wasn’t averse to using a cane.’

Meredith’s tone didn’t invite further questions, and an uneasy silence fell while everyone finished their puddings. As Grace laid down her knife and fork, her gaze was drawn to the mantelpiece opposite, which was full of photo frames. Claire saw that something had caught her attention and twisted around to look.

‘That’s an old school photo of me and my sisters,’ she said, getting up to collect one of the larger pictures, and passing it over for Grace to see.

The colours of the photograph had faded. Grace looked at the four brunettes in school uniform, their similar elfish faces, three of them with long hair, one sporting a back-combed crop with red streaks through it.

‘That’s me,’ Claire chuckled, leaning over and pointing to the short-haired girl. ‘I thought my hairstyle was brilliant. And Mum loved it too, didn’t you, Mum?’

Meredith snorted as she began collecting their plates.

Annabel moved closer to look. ‘That’s Veronica,’ Claire said, her finger resting on the tallest girl at the back of the group, who was posing confidently. ‘The oldest, and the bossiest. Always was, and still is. Married to Steve the solicitor now, with three boys, lives a very respectable life in Ockton.’ She motioned to the girl next to Veronica with wavy dark hair and a shy smile. ‘Next to her is Elizabeth. Liza for short. She’s a year younger than me. Moved down to Leeds eighteen months ago when her husband Dan changed jobs. They’ve got a baby on the way. And then there’s Jenny –’ She pointed to a sweet-looking girl with flame-red hair, sitting at the front of the group. ‘She’s the baby – though she turned thirty this year so I don’t think I can say that any more. She’s only recently moved back to the area after spending ten years working down south. She teaches at a primary school – she’s crazy about kids, that one. She’s had some rough luck with relationships, but she’s just started seeing someone, so I’m told, which means I’m the only one left on the shelf.’