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connected in Thea’s mind, and she thought she might be able to put a name to this person. ‘I bet you’re Edwina,’ she said recklessly.
    ‘And if I am, I fear you have the advantage of me.’ It was like talking to somebody out of a P.G. Wodehouse story.
    ‘I’m Thea Osborne, Harriet Young’s house-sitter. Donny told me about you.’
    ‘Well, you’ve jumped to quite the wrong conclusion, young woman. I am in fact not Edwina, but her sister. I dare say Donald neglected to mention me. He generally hopes to eradicate me from existence by the sheer force of his will. We enjoy what you might call a mutual antipathy.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Thea.
    ‘My name is Thyrza Hastings. I live close by, in a house that has been in my family for three hundred years.’
    Is that all? Thea thought impertinently, well aware that there were still families in England who could add several more centuries than that to their tenure. And who would take it over after Thyrza, she wondered inconsequentially. The details of inheritance was a pet interest, leading as it often did to people behaving badly.
    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, offering her hand, whilst trying to hide the carrier bag containing the plastic bowl behind her back.
    Thyrza Hastings took her hand fleetingly, as if impatient at the irrelevant gesture. Thea took a closer look at the woman’s face, settling on the Cupid’s bow mouth. ‘Are you related to a man called Philippe?’ she asked boldly. ‘You look rather like him.’
    ‘He’s my son. How very observant of you. Very few people can detect a likeness. But then they only look at things like hair and height.’ Her hair was thick and frizzy, forming a dark-grey halo around her head. Philippe’s had been brown and floppy.
    ‘Does he inherit the ancestral home, then?’ she asked with a smile, hoping she didn’t sound too rude. ‘I suppose he lives with you?’ The stereotype of the spoilt only son of a dominant mother seemed to fit the man with the poodle rather well.
    Thyrza bridled, her neck stretching as she pulledher head back. ‘I do not consider that any of your business,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t imagine why it would matter to you.’
    ‘You’re quite right,’ Thea conceded. ‘I’m incorrigibly nosy, that’s all. I like to get a sense of where everybody fits, in a small place like this.’
    ‘Perhaps you ought to bear in mind that curiosity killed the cat,’ the woman warned. ‘Now I think we should both be getting home. It’s nearly dark.’
    ‘It’s not half past nine yet, is it? I thought it would stay light a bit longer than this.’
    ‘It’s the trees,’ said Thyrza. ‘And it’s cloudy tonight.’
    ‘Of course.’
    They walked along side by side, without speaking for a few minutes. Thea was glad of the company, and grateful for the absence of searching questions as to exactly why she was in the woods all alone on a darkening evening. Her companion appeared preoccupied with her own thoughts as she marched sturdily along the track. No hint of any sisterly echo of the bad hip that Donny had said afflicted Edwina. ‘Do you and your sister live together?’ she asked, as they finally left the woods and emerged onto the road down to the village. Then she added meekly, ‘Sorry. I’m still not minding my own business, am I? I don’t think I can help it – I find new people so interesting, you see.’
    The woman had evidently thawed somewhat during the walk. She snorted, half laugh, half impatientprotest. ‘Heaven forbid!’ she replied. ‘She lives on the other side of the common from me. She and I are very different.’ Thea thought she could detect a note of wistfulness in these words.
    ‘And she’s visiting her daughter,’ Thea recalled. ‘Donny said something about that.’
    ‘Due back any time now. They’ll be glad to be shot of her – might even persuade her to set off this evening. Her duties expire when half-term finishes, but she insists on staying one more day,