I LOOKED up at the chimneys on Achtorn House, and was glad all but two had been blocked. Sweeping them all would be a big job by today’s standards. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it would have been in the house’s heyday. As I dropped my gaze, an un­ smiling child peeked out from a window. I waved, but the child darted out of sight.

“Miss Smart?” A man stood at the top of the steps. “Laura. Mr Cathorne?” I asked, going up to meet him. “Angus,” he replied, shaking my hand.

He was dark­haired with warm blue eyes. “Delighted to meet you. My aunt doesn’t come downstairs much, but when she does she insists on open fires, and she’s concerned the place will go up in flames. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. It’s had its day, as you can see. I jest, of course. Do come in.”

He gestured to a door on the left of the large hallway. “This is the lounge.”

It was a tired yet cosy room, filled with saggy couches and faded watercolours. There was a damp patch on the far left of the ceiling and the carpet was worn.

“The other chimney is in the drawing room across the hall. I’ll leave you to get on. Oh, and Daisy may come looking for you. She’s fascinated by the idea of a fe­ male chimney sweep.” He rolled his eyes.

I smiled, recalling the solemn face at the window. “That’s fine.”

I fetched my equipment from the van and examined both chimneys. I lay some dust sheets on the floor, then looked up. Daisy was watching me from the door­ way, her face and ragged clothes dirty.

“Oh goodness, wherever did you find that soot?”

She turned and fled. “Wait! Daisy!” She’d probably wanted to help, and I’d scared her off.