Emily stood for a moment on the street, gazing up at the imposing building before her. The sun had not yet climbed above the roof-line of the old house, so its features were accentuated by shadows and the air around it was still and cold.

Many years had passed since her first visit to this place; many warm summers and icy winters, many gatherings and celebrations, many familiar faces, long since departed. Emily remembered every arrival here - as a child she would race from her father's car as soon as it came to a stop on Wilderness Road, desperate to beat her brothers and be the first one inside. On most occasions Gil and Frank would let her win, laughing at their determined little sister with her red curls bouncing as she scrambled up the stone steps and triumphantly flung open the dark blue front door. "I win, I win!" Even later, when the car that parked in the street was her own, she would gleefully succumb to the urge to run inside the house - much to the amusement of Charlie, her husband and, later still, Vivienne, her daughter.

This morning, her footsteps were slow and awkward, her knees creaking as she began her ascent. At the top of the steps she paused to look up at the carved stone sign above the doorway, silently mouthing the inscription: Edenhurst - 1862. She had read the name many times - it was one of the first things she had spelled out when she first learned to read - and now, as she read it again, a million thoughts and dreams and smells and sounds flooded into her mind. She reached for the old brass doorknob without thinking, then quickly pulled her hand away and grasped the heavy door-knocker, rapping it twice against the blue painted wood.

She could hear the brisk click of stiletto heels approaching along the tiled floor inside and the bolt sliding across, before the door opened with its familiar groan to reveal a young, smartly dressed woman with pleasant eyes.

"Mrs Ginniver?" She extended her hand to grasp Emily's. "I'm Caitlin Sorrenson. Mr Jarvis asked me to meet you."
"Ah, I see," said Emily, smiling, "Well, good to meet you, Ms Sorrenson. Please, call me Emily - Mrs Ginniver is too formal for this place."
"Then call me Caitlin. You made good time from London, Emily. I wasn't expecting to see you for at least another half an hour."
"I'm not too early?" Emily asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"No, no, certainly not," Caitlin replied. "Well, shall we begin?"

Emily took a deep breath as they moved inside the house. The

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