Grace had kept her eye on Ben and Millie as Annabel talked. He was holding a tape measure along one side of the mantelpiece, but he wasn’t moving, and she was sure he was listening to them.

Annabel hadn’t noticed. ‘I’m actually quite excited about it. Who would have believed that a bit of frosty old countryside would fire up my imagination!’

‘Yes, it’s great,’ Grace agreed, trying to be supportive. Then a thought came to her. She went across to the boxes, rummaged around and returned with a book.

‘Adam’s grandmother wrote this.’ She passed it over. ‘I’ve been meaning to rescue it from my charity pile – it should help you with the piece.’

‘Wow, Ghosts of the Moors. This is perfect,’ Annabel said as she began flicking through it.

Grace knelt down on the floor beside Millie. She spent a few moments showing her daughter how to stack her blocks to make different shapes. In the silence, Ben kept his back to them, ostensibly making notes, but Grace wasn’t convinced.

Annabel continued leafing through the book with interest. ‘Looks like most of my research has been done for me. God bless you, Granny Lockwood,’ she cried, waving the book in the air as though Connie were floating above them in the room.

‘Are you related to Adam Lockwood, by any chance?’

Both Grace and Annabel looked at Ben in astonishment. He had got to his feet. His brow was furrowed, his eyes full of interest.

‘Yes,’ Grace replied. She took a breath, summoning up the courage it took to explain. ‘Adam was – is – my husband. He went missing this time last year, just after we’d moved in here. I’ve come back to sort through his grandparents’ belongings, decide what to do next with the cottage …’

Ben’s eyes were wide as he listened, his mouth agape. He seemed lost for words. Grace felt herself flushing under his stare.

‘Did you know Adam?’ Annabel asked.

The question drew him out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly and shook his head as he answered, ‘No, not really, but I know the name.’

‘It made the news last year,’ Annabel said. ‘When he disappeared.’

‘I didn’t see that. I’ve lived in Australia for a long time. But I grew up not far away.’

‘Australia – fantastic!’ Annabel exclaimed. ‘So what the hell are you doing here?’

Ben didn’t reply. He and Grace were staring at one another. Grace was full of questions; while it appeared as though Ben were seeing her in a completely new light – and she wasn’t sure whether she liked it. He broke away first, picking up his notepad and tape. ‘I’ve got what I need. I’ll leave you both to it.’

As he headed for the door, Annabel followed him. ‘Hang on a moment, Ben. If you know the area, can you take me out one day on a ghost hunt?’

Grace expected him to decline, but he answered, ‘If you like.’

‘Great! I’ll pop by later and we can plan a trip.’ Annabel looked at her sister and winked. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Grace? I won’t distract him for long.’

Ben was already in the hallway, and Grace was glad that he couldn’t see her face as she replied, ‘Of course not.’

‘So,’ Annabel said a few hours later, looking around the living room, ‘shall we loll here getting drunk, or shall we get stuck in to a few of these boxes?’

‘How about both?’ Grace suggested, surprised and grateful for the offer, going over to the kitchen area and returning with a bottle of red wine.

‘Great idea!’ Annabel grabbed a glass and held it out. Once it had been filled, she knelt by the boxes. ‘So, how do you want to go about it?’

‘Well, I’ve been tipping them out one at a time and sorting everything into three piles: keep, throw away, and give to charity.’

‘Right-o,’ Annabel said, grabbing the box closest to her and dumping its contents onto the carpet before Grace could object. ‘Lots of clothes here.’

‘Thanks, Annabel,’ Grace said dryly. ‘I’ve actually been through that one already.’

‘Oh my god, what is this?’ Annabel cried, ignoring her and holding up a long dress printed with large purple, green and orange daisies. ‘Flower power or what! Hang on, I have to try this on!’ She wriggled out of her jumper and jeans and pulled the dress over her head.

‘How do I look?’ she asked, and at Grace’s giggles she rushed out of the room and up the stairs, undoubtedly heading for the bedroom, where there was a full-length mirror. Grace heard the excited exclamations from where she sat, and winced, half-expecting Millie to wake up and counter them with a shriller reply of her own. Annabel’s footsteps came rushing down the stairs again, but there was no other sound to be heard, and Grace silently offered a prayer of thanks.

‘Hilarious!’ Annabel pronounced. ‘Right, you have to put something on from this lot – let’s see, what about this –’ She pulled out a cream blouse with outlandish ruffles, and then delved back into the box until she produced a pair of bright purple corduroy flares. ‘Come on, get them on!’

They weren’t going to get much done, but Annabel’s enthusiasm was infectious. Grace sprang up and put her wine down. Soon she was wearing her own ensemble, and Annabel had found the closest thing to seventies music she could in Grace’s collection – a new-fangled version of ‘Lady Marmalade’. They began trying to remember as many of John Travolta’s Saturday Night Fever moves as they possibly could, and Grace was bent double laughing, when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

‘I’ll get it,’ Annabel sang, and boogied her way out of the room. ‘Meredith! Claire!’ Grace heard her cry, and she felt her lightheartedness vanish.

‘You two look like you’re having fun,’ Meredith said, coming into the lounge. Annabel was behind her, swinging her hips and clicking her fingers, pulling an amused face at Grace. Claire followed at the back of the group, smiling, yet from Meredith’s expression, Grace felt like a child caught out doing something she shouldn’t. She went over and switched the music off. ‘It’s lovely to see you both. Would you like a drink?’

‘No thanks,’ Meredith replied. ‘We won’t stop if you’re busy.’

‘We came to let you both know about the ball at Freeborough Hall on Christmas Eve,’ Claire explained. ‘It’s a bit of a local event and we thought you might enjoy it.’

‘Sounds great,’ Annabel replied, going across to a countertop to replenish her wine glass, and returning with the bottle in her other hand. She poured more into Grace’s glass as she added, ‘We’d love to.’

‘I don’t think we can actually,’ Grace demurred. ‘Because of Millie …’

‘Didn’t Emma volunteer to babysit for you?’ Annabel demanded.

‘Yes, but …’

‘But nothing, Grace. You need a break now and again. Let’s ask her, and if she’s free then we’d love to come.’

‘Okay then.’ Meredith took hold of Claire’s arm and made to leave. ‘We won’t keep you. Just let us know if you want tickets – I’m on the committee so it won’t be a problem.’ She stopped in the doorway. ‘They look like Rachel’s clothes, you know,’ she said, staring hard at Grace before she left the room. Claire raised her hand affably, then followed her mother.

Annabel saw them to the door, then returned and looked perplexedly at Grace. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘there’s a woman who knows how to kill a mood. And who the hell is Rachel?’

‘Adam’s mum.’ Grace threw herself into one of the armchairs. Now she felt awful about prancing around in a dead woman’s clothes, as though she were dancing on her grave. Maybe she did need Meredith to help her sort through these things.

‘Oh, I see.’ Annabel went across to the sofa and sat down. ‘Well, don’t feel bad. I’m sure Rachel would rather we were dancing in her clothes than they lay festering and moth-bitten in a dusty old attic.’