Today, she was wearing a headscarf, a pair of rumpled slacks, trainers, and a T-shirt bearing the words: Save a tree – eat a beaver; a gift, she explained, from a cousin in Canada. ‘I’m afraid the place is in a bit of a mess,’ she said apologetically as they stood in the narrow entrance hall. ‘When you phoned and asked me to meet you here, I decided to come early and start sorting through some of the cupboards and drawers, but it’s hard to know what to do with so many things. Aunt Jane hated to throw anything away, so you can imagine what it’s like.’ ‘I can indeed,’ Paget told her, having gone through a similar process himself when his father died. In fact, there were still things in the house for which he had no use at all, but he’d kept them because they’d had meaning for his father. ‘Will you be moving in yourself, or will the house be sold?’ Claire ran a hand through her hair. ‘I really haven’t made up my mind. I’d like to move in, more for Aunt Jane’s sake than anything else, but it’s really far too big for one person.
