Vast and high- ceilinged, it contained a cavernous wardrobe in walnut with elegant brass handles, and a matching dressing-table, tallboy and old- fashioned bedstead of equally generous proportions. Sandie felt almost dwarfed as she unpacked and put her things away. Tea had been an awkward meal. Having behaved so strangely when she arrived, the Sinclairs now seemed embarrassingly over-eager to put her at her ease, Sandie found ruefully. In spite of that, she'd managed to drink two cups of the strong, fragrant tea, and sample some of Bridie's featherlight scones, and rich, treacly fruit loaf. Bridie, she'd learned, was the cook-housekeeper, and the mainstay of the household. 'She came here as a kitchenmaid when I married Rory Killane,' Magda Sinclair explained, 'and she's been here ever since. She knows more about this family than we do ourselves, and she's incredibly loyal.' 'She likes Flynn best,' said James, passing his cup to be refilled. 'What nonsense,' his mother said coldly. 'She adores us all.
