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rising into the distance were currently wreathed in grey mist. The curtains were sumptuous and glamorously draped. And as for the bed…
        'Well?' said Max.
        Tilly's mouth was dry. Was it wrong to take a job just because you'd fallen in love with a bed?
        Except this was so much more than just a bed. It was an actual four-poster, draped in ivory and silver damask, the mattress so high you'd practically need to take a running jump at it, the pillows piled up in true interior-designer style.
        This was pure Hollywood, the bed of her dreams, and she wanted to roll around on it like a puppy.
        'She hates it,' said Max.
        Tilly shook her head. 'I can't believe you've made so much effort for someone who's just going to be working for you.'
        'I'm a very generous employer,' Max said modestly.
        'Dad, you liar.' Louisa rolled her eyes at Tilly. 'Don't be im pressed; the room was like this before he even thought of advertising for someone to move in. This is just our best spare room.'
        'Oh. Well, it's still amazing.'
        Max said, 'And I could have used one of the others.'
        'Except that would have meant sorting them out and basically he couldn't be bothered. Still, it's nice, isn't it?' Louisa surveyed Tilly beadily. 'So? What's the verdict?'
        'I want this job,' said Tilly. 'Although I suppose I should talk to Erin first, check out your credentials. You might be the ASBO family from hell.'
        'Oh, we're definitely that.' Max nodded. 'And maybe we should give Erin a call too, find out all about you.'
        'She'll say nice things, tell you I'm lovely. If she doesn't,' said Tilly, 'she knows I'll give her a Chinese burn.'
        Over bacon and egg sandwiches and mugs of tea, they carried on getting to know each other.
        'So how often would you be nicking the toilet rolls?' said Max, feeding Betty a curl of bacon under the table.
        'Not more than once or twice a week, I promise.'
        'Are you bright and cheerful when you get up in the morning?'
        'I can be.'
        'Christ, no, I can't bear people being cheerful in the mornings.'
        'He's a grumpy old man,' Louisa said comfortably, 'aren't you, Dad?'
        Tilly pointed a teasing finger at her. 'If I came to work here, it'd be like The Sound of Music .'
        'Minus the singing nuns,' said Max.
        'And with a lot less children to look after,' Louisa pointed out.
        'I wouldn't make you wear dresses made out of curtains,' Tilly promised.
        'And you won't end up marrying Captain Von Trapp,' said Max.
        Quite bluntly, in fact.
        Oh. Right. Not that she wanted to marry him, but still. Tilly guessed it was his way of letting her know right away that she wasn't his type. God, did he think she'd been flirting with him? Because she genuinely hadn't.
        Talk about blunt though.
        Across the table she intercepted a look passing between Louisa and Max.
        'Oh Dad, don't tell her,' Louisa wailed. 'Can't we just leave it for now? Wait until she moves in?'
        'Tell me what?' Tilly sat up, her stomach tightening with ap prehension. Just when everything had been going so well too.
        'I have to,' Max said evenly. 'It's not fair otherwise.'
        For heaven's sake, were they vampires?
        'Please, Dad, don't,' begged Louisa.
        'Tell me what ?'
        The phone started ringing out in the hall. Max looked at Louisa and tilted his head in the direction of the door. 'Go and get that, will you, Lou?'
        For a second she stared back at him, her jaw rigid. Then she scraped back her chair and ran out of the kitchen, red curls bouncing off her shoulders.
        'Is this to do with your wife?' Tilly had done Jane Eyre at school; had Louisa's mum gone loopy? Had the bit about her going to America been a lie? Was she actually tied up in the attic?
        'In a way.' Max nodded and listened to