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curled, but it could hardly be called a smile and for the first time it occurred to Davina that he probably felt as tired as herself. When she thought he was going to ignore her remark he slowed down and slid to a halt before a gate bearing a weatherbeaten sign. ‘The farm’s in the hollow just over the rise,’ and he pointed along the farm track.
    The paint was peeling from the wood, but Davina could just distinguish the words ‘Nineveh Farm.’ She turned to speak, but as her lips parted Rex broke in, a decidedly mocking note in his voice.
    ‘Where I come from, it’s usual for the passenger to get out and open gates.’
    Davina stared into his impressive face for a moment before turning to climb out and push open the heavy iron gate. As Rex drove past and pulled up she slammed it shut, giving vent to the frustration building up inside. She hoped he had simply got out of bed the wrong side this morning and that he did not intend keeping up such a laconic manner towards her all the time. It came as a surprise therefore to hear him say mildly, ‘Thank you* as she climbed back into her seat. At least life with him wouldn’t be boring, Davina mused, for she never knew what he was going to do or say next.
    As they crested the rise and the farmhouse came into view she saw it was larger than she had anticipated. Once through the last gate Rex drove round to the rear of the building and parked the Land Rover by a glassed-in porch.
    Davina looked up at the grey stone, the unwinking windows like sightless eyes, and shivered, for it was rather like a scene out of Wuthering Heights. Rex had produced keys from his pocket and was unlocking the outer porch and inner doors and when both were open he stood aside to let her precede him into the house.
    She walked into what was obviously the farmhouse kitchen, a huge room with a big black kitchen range at one end and furniture of equally large proportions. She stood looking around for a minute before expelling her breath in a long gasp. ‘My goodness! How long did you say the owner had been dead?' she asked the silent man standing at her back.
    ‘Several months, but I did mention he wouldn’t allow anyone in to clean. That was years ago, apparently, after his wife died. They’d no children and it seems he had few friends. Maybe he just didn’t care for appearances,' Rex concluded. ‘Come along, let’s take a look around.’
    The kitchen with its filthy floor and table covered with old, yellowing newspapers should have prepared Davina for what was to come. But she stared in incredulous unbelief as they walked from room to room. The small room across the hall, judging by the single bed in one corner, had been in use as a bedroom, the two big rooms on either side of the massive front door were shuttered and musty and the upstairs rooms had seen neither duster nor brush for many a long day.
    In the largest of the four first floor bedrooms Davina in an effort to get a closer view of the furnishings went over to pull aside the heavy curtains. As she did so they began to disintegrate, the shabby material tearing as soon as her hands touched it to hang in festoons along the floor. She brushed her hands together with an involuntary shudder of revulsion just as Rex remarked from the doorway in a wooden voice, ‘A good bonfire would seem to be the order of the day.’
    He turned to lead the way downstairs and Davina followed him. ‘Just as well I bought those camp beds,’ he remarked calmly, ‘because we certainly can’t use the ones up there. I’ll sleep in the kitchen and you can bed down in one of the other rooms. At least we needn’t worry about burglars,’ he went on as they passed the front door. ‘By the look of it that door’s not been used for centuries.’
    Davina followed him back to the kitchen without troubling to reply. At least someone had cleaned out the enormous grate, she saw with great relief. But whoever the solicitor had sent to clear up had done the bare