Roll the dice

Grace's childhood home, Chadlicote Manor, is being sold to settle family debts. Will losing her home break her heart or is it the chance for a new life?

… move two spaces

Karen's husband has the Manor in his sights as a chance to start over in rural paradise. But Karen prefers city living and, when a new flame turns up the heat, starting again might just mean the end of the road.

… climb the ladder

Gemma is longing for a baby and, unlike her own loft apartment, Karen's house is an ideal family home. But the dream house can only have its dream baby if Gemma can convince her flakey sister to help out.

… to land on

Up-and-coming rockstar Nick has designs on Gemma's flat. He's also taken a shine to classy estate agent, Lucinda, but she's not all she seems - and neither is he, since he's hiding a girlfriend he's looking to ditch when the sale goes through.

. . . the Love Nest

where all their troubles come home to roost!

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Prelude

‘Ashes to ashes,’ intoned the vicar. ‘Dust to dust.’ It was a glacial February morning and in the south-west corner of the churchyard of St Michael’s of All Angels, Little Dittonsbury, Devon, the coffin of Nadia Porter-Healey was being lowered slowly into the frosty ground beside her long-dead husband’s.

Their orphaned daughter Grace stifled her sobs with a tissue. She leaned on the shoulder of her brother Sebastian, who was staring straight ahead with a neutral expression on his face, as if he’d broken wind in a crowded lift.

On his other side, Verity, Sebastian’s wife, sighed heavily, pulled her cashmere coat more tightly around her and glanced at her slim gold watch. Basil, who was three, clung to her leg shouting: ‘What’s going on, Mummy?’ Alfie, the five-year-old, stood rigid, like a soldier about to be despatched to the Western Front. The gravedigger stepped forward and began shovelling earth on to the coffin. Alfie stuck a finger up his nostril. Verity didn’t bother to stifle a yawn. Basil said: ‘Mummy, will there be cake soon? You said there’d be cake.’

Grace’s sobs grew louder. A dam of grief and exhaustion that had been building up for the past five years was suddenly blasted away. The tears poured out. Her mother was dead. Her beautiful mother whom she’d loved so much. Grace had done everything she could to save her, but it had still been inadequate. As ever, she had failed.

‘There, there,’ mumbled Sebastian, giving her an ineffectual squeeze on the arm. Sympathetic heads were turning. Grace felt a warm arm around her shoulder.

‘Hey, love. Hey. It’s all right.’

It was Lou, cleaner, occasional cook and general handywoman at Chadlicote Manor for the past sixteen years. Grace inhaled the familiar smells of bleach and baking – the result of being up since six preparing Chadlicote for the wake. Grace had devoured a whole tray of Lou’s sandwiches earlier that morning to fortify herself. She’d blamed their disappearance on Silvester, the spaniel. But she was in mourning.

‘It’s not all right, Lou. Mummy’s dead.’

‘I know. It’s very sad. But you’ll be all right.’

‘I couldn’t save her.’

‘No one could.’ Lou stroked her hair. ‘Life is just very cruel sometimes.’

Grace wiped the tears away from her cheeks, aware of her brother hovering awkwardly beside them.

‘Ahem, Grace. I think it’s time we got going. Showed people the way.’

‘Of course.’ Grace blew her nose, wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, readjusted her hat slightly. ‘I’ll see you back at the house, then.’

‘Actually,’ Verity chirped up, ‘Sebby was wondering if he could drive back with you. As there’s so much to discuss.’

‘Oh!’ Grace was pleased. Since her beloved brother had met Verity ten years ago, she’d rarely had a moment alone with him. He’d been staying for the past couple of days, but he’d locked himself up in the study going over paperwork.

Over the suppers Grace had prepared for him he had been monosyllabic. ‘I’m exhausted,’ was the most she got from him, although after eating he didn’t go to bed but returned to the study, while Grace polished off the leftovers.

As children they had been so close, growing up in the paradise that was Chadlicote, bicycling around the grounds, building bridges over the stream, swimming in the lake, camping overnight in the barn, pretending to be Daleks from their favourite television programme, Doctor Who. Her home had always been her favourite place on earth, like something from a fairytale, rambling, beautiful and full of history.

But after they’d been sent to boarding school they’d seen much less of each other. Sebby left school at seventeen, after a mysterious incident involving the groundsman’s lawnmower, and went into ‘business’, although Grace never really knew exactly what that meant. She went to university. Every now and then he’d popped down for an evening, taken her out to dinner and made her feel glamorous and popular, things that – being three (all right, maybe four. Sometimes five) stone overweight – she felt very rarely.