4
The next morning, there was a knock at my door. Opening it, I saw a frail old woman gazing up at me. She had curly white hair and sharp blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled. At her side a small brown and white dog was straining at its lead, eager to come in the house.
‘Hello,’ I said, returning her smile warily. ‘Can I help you?’
I expected she was a friend of my great aunt, and wondered whether she had heard that Lorna was dead. The old woman handed me a shopping bag she was carrying and introduced herself as Catherine. My assumption was confirmed when she explained that she had been a close friend of my great aunt.
‘I’m Lorna’s great niece,’ I replied, hesitating to add that Rosecroft now belonged to me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘She was a wonderful woman. You must miss he
