The offices of Jasper and Heel solicitors’ practice are perched at the top of an old building squeezed between two bow-fronted houses in a Penzance backstreet. The carpeted staircase smells of fusty old books and there’s a brass doorplate with the firm’s name inscribed on it in curly copperplate. Surely I’ve strayed into a Dickens novel.

The Victorian vibe goes into overdrive when the door is flung open by an elderly, pinch-faced man in a tired black suit who introduces himself as Emmanuel Thistleton. Really? Some parents are just cruel.

‘Do take a seat and we can proceed with reading the will,’ sniffs Emmanuel after shaking my hand. ‘And please do accept my condolences on the death of Mrs Gowan. I’ve looked after her affairs for many years and had become fond of her. She was a formidable woman.’

Toby’s already here and gives a curt nod when I take the chair next to him, which is near a desk piled high with papers. He’s perching on the very edge of the seat and jiggling his leg up and down, a bag of nervous energy. Or maybe it’s excitement at the thought of all he’s about to gain.

‘No Pasco?’ he grunts.

‘He’s at work.’

‘That’s a blessing. Shouldn’t you be at work too?’

‘My office is only around the corner and I’ve taken an early lunchbreak.’

Toby nods again but doesn’t ask about my job. He probably doesn’t have a clue where I work or what I do. If it’s not happening in London, it’s not happening at all, as far as Toby’s concerned.

A younger man with short, greying hair and a straight Roman nose strides in from the book-lined room next door, places a manila folder on the desk and adjusts it until it’s in perfect alignment with the inlaid blotter.

‘This is my colleague, Elliott,’ announces Emmanuel, settling into the tan leather chair behind the desk and leafing through the papers in the folder.

Ah, so this is Elliott, who contacted me last year to pass on Alice’s invitation to visit her in Salt Bay. That was the first I’d ever heard of Alice and his letter changed my life.

‘Miss Trebarwith, I presume. It’s marvellous to meet you at last,’ coos Elliott, caressing my palm with his thumb when we shake hands. A fleck of foamy spittle settles on his upper lip. ‘You’re quite as lovely as you sound on the phone. And what amazing blue eyes you have.’

Is this what a solicitor should be saying to a recently bereaved person? Elliott was annoying when he flirted with me over the phone but in the creepy flesh he’s even worse. I pull my hand away and resist the urge to wipe it down my skirt.

‘Let’s get on, Elliott,’ says his boss with a disapproving glance. ‘I’m sure Mr and Miss Trebarwith have places to be.’

‘Actually, I’m not sure why I need to be here at all,’ I pipe up, taking off my cardi and placing it across my lap. It’s really hot and stuffy in here.

‘Exactly,’ whines Toby.

‘Really?’ Emmanuel squints at me over the top of his half-moon glasses and frowns. ‘You are Mrs Gowan’s great-niece, aren’t you? Did you bring your passport with you for identification purposes as requested?’

‘Yes, but I don’t see why…’

Oh, never mind. My question peters out as I realise it’s best to just get this over with and focus on finding somewhere else to live. A lack of rental properties in the village means we’ll have to move out of Salt Bay so being here to witness Toby take over Tregavara House seems extra cruel. He’ll probably rip out all the old features and replace them with expensive modern tat to impress his friends. All the plaster coving will go. And the ancient fireplaces and thick oak doors. Within a few months, Tregavara House will be full of glass and stainless steel and concrete.

If only Alice was still here. I blink rapidly, determined not to cry – not here in front of Toby and creepy Elliott who’s sitting in the corner, undressing me with his eyes.

‘Right then,’ Emmanuel picks up a sheet of paper and clears his throat. ‘This is the last will and testament of—’

Suddenly, the door flies open and Kayla hurtles through it. Her face is glowing scarlet and she’s wearing hardly any clothes – just a strappy T-shirt and a teeny tiny skirt that barely covers her thighs. Elliott’s eyes open wide and he pulls his shirt collar away from his neck.

‘Sorry, so sorry. The bus was late and packed with tourists who didn’t know where to get off and then I couldn’t find you and you’ve got so many stairs! I’m surprised you get any clients up here,’ she puffs.

‘What the hell is going on?’ demands Toby, leaning across the desk towards Emmanuel and raising his hands palm-up to the ceiling. ‘I didn’t know she was coming. She’s nothing to do with me or Alice.’

‘What are you doing here, Kayla?’ I hiss when she drags a chair to the desk and drops into it with a loud oof.

‘Covering your arse, Sunshine,’ she whispers loudly out of the corner of her mouth. ‘I want to make sure you’re not screwed by him over there, seeing as Josh can’t make it. You’re far too nice for your own good. Whereas I’m not.’

She folds her arms and glares at Toby, who taps his finger on the manila folder. Tap-tap-tap.

‘Do you see what I have to put up with in Salt Bay? It’s utterly ridiculous.’

Emmanuel ignores him, gives a tiny cough and pushes his glasses up his long, thin nose. ‘Shall we get on if everyone is here? I do have another appointment at 12.30.’ He glances again at the paper in front of him. ‘This is the last will and testament of Alice Jean Gowan, made before witnesses on October the seventeenth of last year.’

‘October the seventeenth of when?’ A deep furrow has appeared between Toby’s eyebrows. ‘That can’t be right. Alice made her will a few years ago.’

‘Mrs Gowan made a new will five years ago, Mr Trebarwith. I remember you coming into the office with her. But she had her carer bring her in a few months ago in order to supersede her previous will with this updated one.’

‘Did you know about this?’ Toby turns towards me and sniffs in disbelief when I shake my head. ‘Did that Emily girl know about it? Did she tell you Alice had—?’

‘Mrs Gowan sent her carer away and had her come back and collect her later,’ interrupts Emmanuel, who’s starting to look thoroughly peeved. ‘She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted others to know her business.’

‘OK, mate.’ When Kayla crosses her long, bare legs, Elliott almost faints. ‘So cut to the chase then. What does the new will say?’

Kayla’s never backward in coming forward. She claims it’s a traditional Aussie trait though Roger reckons it’s simply rudeness. Which is rich from possibly the rudest man in the Western Hemisphere.

Emmanuel glances through the papers in front of him and sighs. ‘I can give you a full copy of the will to read at your leisure but the main points are as follows: “I, Mrs Alice Jean Gowan—”’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve already done that bit,’ says Toby, breathing rapidly. Tiny beads of sweat are scattered across his forehead and glistening in the sunlight coming through the wonky window panes.

Emmanuel gives the faintest of smiles. ‘I, Mrs Alice Jean Gowan, leave Tregavara House and its contents to my great-niece Annabella Sunshine Trebarwith, on the proviso that Emily Trengrouse shall live there for as long as she wishes.’

‘Get in!’ yells Kayla, punching the air. ‘Alice Jean Gowan, what a total beaut!’

Toby has jumped to his feet, but I’m frozen to my chair, unable to move, unable to breathe. Tregavara House belongs to me?

‘What on earth is happening?’ blusters Toby, his face puce and damp patches spreading under the arms of his expensive shirt. ‘She can’t leave the house to a woman she only met for the first time last year! My cousin has been manipulated and I’m going to fight this every step of the way.’ He places both palms on the desk and thinks for a second. ‘Alice had dementia, you know.’

‘Ooh, that’s low,’ yells Kayla. ‘Alice had all her marbles and was as sharp as any of us. She certainly knew what you were like.’

‘Will everyone please be quiet!’ barks Emmanuel. ‘Take your seats because I haven’t finished reading the will yet and this is most irregular.’

‘Oh dear Lord, is there more? What a wicked old bat. Rest assured I’m going to fight this every inch of the way.’ Toby sinks into his seat and puts his head in his hands.

‘There is indeed more.’ Emmanuel clears his throat again and starts reading. ‘To my dear cousin, Toby Trebarwith, I leave a family heirloom, the painting of The Lady.’

Toby’s head snaps up. ‘She’s left me the painting? The one by Van Teel? Oh Alice, how generous of you.’

‘Oh, puhleez.’ Kayla glares at Toby. ‘You’d better hope Annie doesn’t claim the painting back if Alice had dementia and didn’t know what she was doing.’

‘I misspoke because I was upset that Alice had forgotten me,’ says Toby, smiling broadly, ‘but now I’ll always have the painting to remind me of her.’

No, he won’t. The painting will be sold as fast as Toby’s pudgy fingers can enter it into the next art auction where he works. And he’ll soon have a big wodge of cash instead. Estimates put the painting at around three-quarters of a million pounds which is more than the house must be worth. But I couldn’t give a monkey’s. All that matters is we don’t have to move out and leave Salt Bay.

‘Are you all right, Miss Trebarwith?’ asks Emmanuel. ‘Would you like Elliott to get you a glass of water?’

I shake my head, unable to speak.

It’s a shame the family painting will be sold but Alice, lovely Alice, must have seen that as a price worth paying to keep Toby off my back. She didn’t know he was Freya’s father when she made her new will, but she obviously pretty much had the measure of Toby. And I’m beyond touched that she judged me to be the better custodian of her beloved house.

‘So now you’ve got your hands on the painting, Toby, you’re not going to kick off about the house. Is that right?’ Kayla nudges me to get involved in the conversation as Toby’s lip curls into a sneer.

‘Tregavara House is old and battered and will prove to be a financial millstone around Annie’s neck. Have you seen the state of the roof? And when it does prove too much, and you come begging for help, Annie, don’t expect me to pay top dollar for what should rightfully be mine.’

I swallow, finding my voice at last. ‘I honestly didn’t plan for this to happen, Toby, and I didn’t know about the new will. Tregavara House has been in the Trebarwith family for generations and it’s true I’ve not been around for long. But I’ll take care of it, I promise. And you can come and stay whenever you’re visiting Freya and bring her round. Things can stay like they are at the moment.’

‘When can I have the painting?’ Toby asks Emmanuel, totally blanking me. But I hardly notice his surly behaviour. Toby can huff and puff as much as he likes and Tregavara House will still belong to me. Me, the girl who’s never owned as much as a car before.

I can hardly believe it. Two years ago I was living in a rented London flat with no relatives, no significant other and no responsibilities. And now I have a family, a steady boyfriend and a house. A big, falling-down house.

Toby’s words about millstones and battered roofs start nudging at my brain but I close my eyes and send up a promise to my beloved great-aunt. Alice, I won’t let you down.