Aunt Ellie may have spent half of her life on the sofa, but it wasn't as comfortable as it looked. No matter which way I turned, a broken spring stuck into my back, and the seat sagged at one end.

Even so, I couldn't blame my lack of sleep entirely on it. My mind hadn't stopped churning all night, creating nightmares about the stacks of junk and the state of the kitchen. Although if the oven did blow up and burn the house down, it wouldn't be the end of the world. The flood at my old flat had taught me one important lesson: buy insurance. I'd spent the last of my savings on a policy, and for a moment I considered "accidentally" knocking one of the candles over myself. At least that would solve the tidying problem.

The sheer volume of junk in the house made me cringe. I hated clutter. Hated it! It'd take me months to clear this lot. Years, maybe. Even if I managed to sell everything on eBay, I'd still have to package it up and take it to the post office—no mean feat without a car. Oh, and in between that, I needed to carry on with my web design clients because I couldn't rely on online auctions for my bread and butter. Did Lilac Cottage even have a broadband connection?

If not, I'd be spending an awful lot of time nursing a coffee in the local branch of Starbucks. If there was a Starbucks. Here in the sticks, I'd probably end up with Bernie in The Cock and Bull, which at least had free Wi-Fi even if it didn't have edible food.

Despite being exhausted, I forced myself to get up as soon as the sun rose. Without electricity, I couldn't afford to waste any of the precious daylight hours at this time of year.

Okay, start small, Olivia.

That meant tackling the third bedroom first. Most of the jewellery seemed to be in there, and hopefully that would bring in enough cash to pay for the basic repairs the house was crying out for. I'd already discovered the upstairs toilet didn't flush properly. What other surprises were lurking beneath the mess?

I spent the first few hours of the day carrying items down to the kitchen, where I'd set up a makeshift photo studio in front of the window with a white sheet draped over the open door. By the time Maddie and Dave arrived just before noon, I had thirty-two items catalogued and up for sale on eBay, and aching thighs from all the stairs. Who needed that weird exercise machine?

Maddie bounded in through the open door. I couldn't lock it from the inside, but last night, I'd dragged the shelves next to it across so if anyone tried to get in, Aunt Ellie's collection of junk would spill all over the place and wake me up.

"We've brought your bed," Maddie called.

Oh, thank goodness. I greeted her with a hug. "You're a star. I was dreading another night on that sofa."

Dave kissed me on the cheek and looked around. "Maddie said it was bad, but not this bad. Bloody hell, look at the size of that spider."

I sprinted outside after Maddie, who leapt into Dave's van and locked the doors.

"You didn't tell me there were spiders," she screeched through the glass.

"I didn't know. Honestly. Look on the bright side—at least it wasn't Margot."

Dave leaned out of the doorway. "It's okay. I've flushed it down the loo."

A little coaxing got Maddie into the house again, and between the three of us, we wrestled Eleanor's ugly old bed downstairs. No doubt I'd have a hernia by the time the cottage was habitable.

"Now what?" I asked. "We can't leave it there."

Dave had propped the mattress up against the front wall, and it created an eyesore.

"We'll have to take it to the tip," he said. "Any idea where that is?"

"I don't even know how to get back to the main road."

"Tell you what—me and Maddie'll get rid of the bed while you sort out lunch."

Maddie made a face. "Liv, are you sure you don't need a hand with the food?"

"No!" Dave and I both said, a tad too quickly. Maddie may have been my best friend, but there was a reason I did all the cooking. She made the chef at The Cock and Bull look like a genius, and Dave had to change the batteries in their smoke detector at least once a month.

"I'll need you to lift the other end of the bed," Dave told her.

While they putt-putted off down the lane with Dave's van sounding in desperate need of a service, I went inside to fetch my purse. There must be shops in the village, right?

I knew there was nothing but fields and the odd cottage between Aunt Ellie's and the pub, so I set off in the other direction on foot, searching for signs of civilisation. Oh, what I'd have given to find a branch of Waitrose or even a Sainsbury's.

No such luck. Ten minutes later, I stumbled across a handful of storefronts in what passed for Upper Foxford's high street. A betting shop, a tiny café sharing space with a hair salon, and opposite them, an Indian takeaway and a newsagent.

As I headed past a pet shop with rabbit hutches and a few struggling potted plants outside, I was pleased to see the newsagent doubled up as a post office, so at least I had somewhere convenient to take my eBay shipments. Anything that didn't sell could go to the Age Concern charity shop next door but one, on the other side of a tiny pharmacy. The line-up was completed by Floyd's supermarket, and that was where I headed.

Floyd himself sat behind the cash register, wearing a name badge with a smiley face on, completely at odds with his own expression. He reminded me of a basset hound—sort of droopy with doleful eyes. Both he and the two other customers tracked me as I picked up a basket and perused the shelves, hunting for snacks that didn't require cooking.

Cheese, ham, bread, and butter, with a bit of salad thrown in to give the illusion of healthiness. Once, I'd been religious about getting my five-a-day, but lately, I'd started counting the bottles of wine Maddie kept bringing around as fruit. On the way to pay, I walked past the household products shelf, and my OCD got the better of me as I added bleach, limescale remover, antibacterial spray, cloths, oven cleaner, and more scouring pads to my basket. Floyd's eyes widened as I struggled to the checkout, dragging a mop and bucket with my spare hand.

"Planning on doing some cleaning?" he asked.

No, I planned to make special sauce down at The Cock and Bull. "Just a little."

"Haven't seen you round here before."

Was I going to get questioned at every establishment I visited? "I only moved to the village yesterday. I'm living in Eleanor Rigby's old house."

"Really? I didn't see that one go on the market."

"No, I inherited it. I'm her niece."

His semblance of a smile faded entirely. "Well, I hope you'll be a better customer than she was. Always went into town, she did, on the bus every morning. People like her kill small villages like this."

I could get a bus into town? That was great news! Hopefully, I'd find a proper shopping centre there. But at the same time, I couldn't afford to upset my new neighbours.

"I promise to shop here more often than Aunt Ellie." That shouldn't be difficult. "I'd like to support local shopkeepers now I'm living here."

Floyd cheered up at that, hardly surprising when one considered his prices. They made London look cheap. No wonder Aunt Ellie had gone elsewhere—my wallet shed a tear each time he took an item out of my basket.

"Did you bring a bag?" he asked.

"No, sorry."

He tsk-tsked under his breath. "Folk round here tend to bring their own bags. Good for the environment, it is."

And better for his profit margin too, no doubt.

He packed my purchases into plastic carrier bags, six of them, and I began to regret my penchant for cleaning. How was I supposed to get that lot home, plus the mop and bucket? I didn't fancy making two trips. One dose of Floyd was quite enough for today, thank you.

If only Aunt Ellie had left me a car. Not that I could afford driving lessons at that moment, but walking everywhere would get old really fast, especially when it rained. I made a mental note to check the bus timetable and pined for London. I already missed the hustle and bustle of the city, and Pawel, who'd run the corner shop near my old flat, had certainly been more cheerful than Floyd.

The honk of a horn behind me made me drop the bucket, and I was about to glare at whoever was driving the blue Ford Galaxy when the window rolled down and Warren leaned out.

"Sorry about that. Didn't mean to make you jump. I just thought you might want a lift with that lot."

Ah, yes. He'd mentioned being a taxi driver. How did I politely decline without revealing quite how little money I had?

He must have read my mind. "Don't worry—I won't charge you. I'm driving past Lilac Cottage, anyway."

"If you're sure?"

He climbed out, and the brush of his hand against mine as he helped me stack my bags in the back made me stiffen. But when I looked at him, he smiled.

"You okay?"

"Absolutely fine," I lied. The contact had felt...nice, but was I ready to contemplate spending time with another man? "I really do appreciate your help."

"It's no problem. Any time you need a ride, just give me a shout. It can't be easy moving to a new place on your own."

"It's even harder than I thought."

"I know the feeling. Took weeks for the other kids to speak to me when I arrived. Every night, I begged my parents to move back to London."

"You're from London as well?"

"Grew up in Hammersmith."

"We must have been practically neighbours—I lived in Notting Hill until I turned eighteen. Do you still miss the city?"

"Some parts of it, but this place has grown on me. The slower pace of life, actually speaking to your neighbours. People look out for their own. It just takes a while to be accepted."

"But how do I get accepted?"

"Best just to talk to people. Hang out in the pub and the café, maybe join the Women's Institute or the horticultural society?"

As if I didn't have enough on my plate. "How do I join those?"

"I could find a few phone numbers for you if you like?"

"I'd be very grateful."

We pulled into Aunt Ellie's driveway, and my heart soared at the sight of Dave's van parked outside. Two more friendly faces in addition to Warren's would help me to get through the afternoon.

"Thanks so much for the ride."

"Do you need a hand with your bags?"

I spied Maddie and Dave heading towards us and shook my head. "I've already got help."

The instant we got inside, Maddie started with the interrogation, after first reminding me that she was always right.

"I told you Warren liked you."

"He only gave me a lift because he was passing."

"And I saw him staring at your arse as you walked into the house."

"Really?" Was that denial in my voice? Or hope?

"Really. So, do you like him too?"

"I've only met the man twice."

"That was enough for me and Dave. Have you waxed lately? I think I saw a kit in one of the spare bedrooms."

"Maddie, please. I'm only just getting over Edward."

"You know what they say about falling off a horse."

I thought about it for a second. "I'm not getting back on Edward."

"Okay, so maybe that analogy isn't quite right. But you could always ride a different man."

"I'm going to make lunch now."

Despite Maddie helping in the kitchen, we soon had a plate of sandwiches with crisps on the side, and Dave grabbed a handful before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"What's the plan for this afternoon, boss?" he asked.

I only had them for today, and then I'd be on my own until next weekend, five long days away. "Could you help to carry my bed upstairs? I can't manage it on my own."

"Sure thing. And when you've got the electricity turned back on, I'll check over your wiring."

Dammit, why couldn't I meet a Dave? Edward may have been well off, but Dave had stayed loyal to Maddie from the moment they met, and he'd never been anything but kind to me as well.

But all too soon, he'd gone, driving Maddie back to London ready for another Monday morning. That left me alone, perched on the good end of the sofa as Aunt Ellie's collection of china figurines glinted eerily in the flickering candlelight.

A sigh escaped. A new year, a new start, but I still wished I could back up 365 days. This time last January, I'd been bursting with joy as Edward and I headed for a minibreak in Barcelona.

But I was stuck at Lilac Cottage, and I needed to make the best of it.

Woohoo! I checked my emails as I made myself a cheese sandwich for breakfast and found I'd sold four items on eBay. A window squeegee, two necklaces, and the blanket with feet. I spent the morning packing them up as well as listing more junk while I waited on hold for the accounts department at the electricity company. Maddie had lent me her super-duper recharging battery, but my phone was almost dead.

By lunchtime, I had a promise of reconnection that afternoon, and I couldn't help smiling as I carried the first lot of Aunt Ellie's tat out of the house. One small step for Lilac Cottage, one giant leap for Olivia.

In the post office, a grey-haired lady adjusted her glasses and craned her neck up to look at me. At five feet three, I'd never felt tall, but I towered a clear head above her.

"You're the new girl. You've moved into Eleanor Rigby's old house."

News sure travelled fast. "That's right."

"Living with a man, are you?"

Living in sin, she meant. Her disdain when she said the word "man" was all too obvious.

"No, I'm on my own."

She narrowed her eyes. "I heard you bought an awful lot of food yesterday."

So, old Floyd enjoyed a bit of gossip, did he? It was tempting to fan the flames, but then I thought back to what Warren said about being accepted.

"Some friends came to help me move furniture and, er, things."

"Things? You mean all that rubbish Mrs. Rigby kept buying?"

"You know about that?"

"Could hardly miss it, could I? The postman used to moan about her packages doing his back in every morning, and all because the woman was incapable of passing up a bargain."

I thought back to the junk I'd been cataloguing that morning. How much of a bargain were an extendable backscratcher and a roll-up jigsaw mat?

"There is rather a lot of stuff in the house."

"You'll be needing a skip, you mean?"

"Actually, I'm hoping to sell most of it on eBay."

The woman cackled so hard her false teeth came loose. She shoved them back in with one hand and held out the other to me.

"I'm Betty. I should introduce myself seeing as you're going to be my new best customer." Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Olivia Porter. Did you know Mrs. Rigby well?"

"I don't think anybody around here did. She and that no-good son of hers kept to themselves."

A chill ran through me. A son? Aunt Ellie had a son? How had Mickey missed that? Could this son have me evicted from the house?

"Does he live around here? Her son?" The quake in my voice was all too evident.

"In a manner of speaking. He's buried in the churchyard not too far from his mother. Good riddance, I say."

Dead? Relief washed through me, quickly followed by guilt. "Oh. That's, er..."

"You didn't know him, then?"

"I barely knew Aunt Ellie. Inheriting her house was a complete surprise."

Betty cackled again. "At least the woman finally did something good for somebody."

First my mother, then Floyd, now Betty. Aunt Ellie hadn't been popular, had she? What did she do to upset so many people?

A cheery "hello" came from behind me, and Betty's attention turned to her next customer. No matter—I'd be back there soon enough.

I returned to Lilac Cottage four parcels lighter but with a weight on my mind. Would people's feelings towards Aunt Ellie reflect on me? I needed to fit in here or life had the potential to be difficult. And speaking of difficult, I needed to get a phone line installed so I could work, then draw up a proper budget.

Over lunch, I formalised the to-do list floating around in my head on the back of a flyer for over-sixties yoga that someone had shoved under my makeshift front door. It started with "clean everything" and ended with "explore the jungle." I'd taken a quick look around the garden behind the cottage, but the twisted tree limbs and thick mass of brambles suggested it had been untouched for years.

Reading through the list made me want to crawl into my bed, pull the duvet over me, and hide from the world, but I had to make a start. Blinking back tears, I picked up a bottle of bleach and headed for the downstairs toilet.