A glorious morning despite the chill. Bright sunshine and blue skies pick out frost lacing tumbles of fallen leaves, spangling the lawns and making a black and white tracery of naked winter trees.
Banging, clanging and weird gurgling noises echo up from somewhere in the bowels of the house. I’m guessing the racket is connected to the ice-cold water which is all I could coax from the bath or shower this morning.
In the dining room, my Master is already there with coffee and cereal, reading from his tablet. His briefcase stands open, assorted folders in neat order peeking out. Despite the fire glowing in the hearth, I tug a cardigan tightly around myself. “What’s all the noise about?”
He glances up. “I’m afraid the boiler threw a tantrum in the night, then laid down to die. Ross is trying
