She turned to look at me. “If?”

“Wishful thinking,” I said.

“Mmm.” A pause. “Perhaps that explains your father. He’s behaving like a schoolboy at the moment.”

“Being on a farm reminds him of home.”

“Except the last time he operated a tractor was twenty years ago,” she said. “We employed a workforce for ploughing…Dad was the boss man who drove a four-by-four and checked the furrows were straight.” She held my gaze for a moment before returning to the potatoes. “But I’m sure you’re right. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”

ONE AFTERNOON, Jess said she was going to visit Lily and asked if I’d like to go, too. I knew Jess went to the nursing home regularly, even though Lily had no idea who she was, but this was the first time she’d invited me to accompany her. I went out of curiosity-a desire to put a face to the personality I’d come to know-and I’m glad I did. Even though the fires that had driven her were now absent, Lily’s beauty was so much sweeter than her daughter’s. It proved nothing-for I firmly believe that looks are skin deep-but I did understand when she smiled why Jess was so fond of her. I’m sure the same bemused affection had been in Frank Derbyshire’s smile when his daughter had quietly taken his hand in hers, and stroked it without saying a word…

IF I LIVE to be a hundred I’ll never understand my mother’s gift for socializing. When she and my father first arrived in London, they were on the Zimbabwean exiles’ dinner party list within hours of the plane landing. My father complained about it-“I hate being trapped at tables with people I’m never going to meet again”-but underneath he was secretly pleased. He had more in common with ex-pat farmers who had experienced Mugabe’s ethnic cleansing at first hand than he did with the London chattering classes who could only talk about their second homes in France.

Suddenly, visitors started appearing at Barton House. I knew a few of them through Peter, but most I’d never seen before, and I certainly wasn’t on dropping-in terms with any of them. The first time anyone appeared-a jolly couple in their sixties from Peter’s end of the village-Jess was in the kitchen and, despite her best efforts to melt into the background, my mother drew her back out again. I warned her she’d scare Jess away if she wasn’t careful, but it didn’t happen. Jess turned up each evening with Dad, and seemed content to be quietly included in whatever was happening, albeit on the fringes.

On a few occasions Julie, Paula and their children came too. Even old Harry Sotherton put in an appearance, and had to be driven home by my father after consuming more ale than he was used to. It reminded me so much of life in Zimbabwe where meals were regularly stretched to accommodate anyone who was passing. Jess was never going to be the life and soul of a party, but to see her held in genuine affection by the people who knew her did her nothing but good.

Peter became the most regular visitor. I never did find out what my mother said to him, but she asked me to make the first move by inviting him over. I decided to go to his house and, if necessary, slap a MacKenzie embargo on him, but the subject never arose. He was more interested in Madeleine. “Listen to this,” he said, pressing the button on his answerphone. “I got back about five minutes ago and it was waiting for me.”

Madeleine’s strident voice filled the speaker. “Peter, are you there? The bloody nursing home’s locked the door against me. I need you to come and tell them not to be so damn…stupid! They say they’ll call the police if I don’t leave immediately. How dare the solicitor stop me seeing Mummy? He’s taken out an injunction against me. I’m so angry. Oh, to hell with it!” There was a muffled shout which sounded like “I’m going, for Christ’s sake,” then silence.

I couldn’t avoid a smile and Peter saw it. “What’s she on about? Do you know?”

“The solicitor’s obviously given the nursing home authority to exclude her.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” I told him. “You can ask Jess about it.”

“I haven’t seen her for days. She’s not answering her phone or her door.”

“Nothing new there then,” I said. “Since when did you have to announce yourself? I thought you always went in the back.”

“I did, but-” he broke off on a sigh. “I don’t think she’s speaking to me anymore.”

“I’m not surprised if you keep ringing her doorbell. She probably thinks it’s that worm Bagley.” I watched him give a small shake of his head. “Then it’s your fault,” I said bluntly. “You changed the rules of the game and she doesn’t know how to play anymore.”

“What rules?”

“The ones that say you have to barge in on her all the time and tease her mercilessly till she laughs. She probably thinks you don’t fancy her now that you’ve seen her naked.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm. About as ridiculous as you hanging around outside her front door like a nervous adolescent.” I gave his arm a friendly buffet. “We’re talking about the most introverted woman in Dorset, Peter. She’s been manhandled by a psycho…watched one of her dogs die…stood up to the third degree from Bagley…and suddenly she’s supposed to understand why a man she likes doesn’t want to tease her any more? You’re an idiot!”

He smiled grudgingly. “That’s for sure. I got it all wrong, Connie. I thought we should humour-”

I gave him another buffet, rather harder this time. “Don’t lay a guilt trip on me. I’m on a roll…I’m writing again…I’m eating again. Life’s grand. Does it matter who did what, when?” I smiled to take the sting from my words. “You helped me from the day I arrived, Peter. You and Jess helped me just by being there that night. If I’d been on my own I couldn’t have done it. Can’t you feel good about that? For me and Jess…but mostly for yourself?”

“You’re a nice person, Connie.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The smile stretched to his eyes. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll tell you after I’ve barged in on Jess.”

HALFWAY THROUGH my parents’ stay I received a letter from Lily’s solicitor, asking what my intentions were with regard to the information Jess and I had given him. My father was deeply unimpressed by him. As he pointed out, the man was a typical lawyer. He’d failed to protect his client before the event, but was happy to keep her alive and skim his percentage afterwards.

I didn’t disagree, but I took the line of least resistance. Did I care enough about Lily to make myself available for more police questioning? No. There wasn’t a sliver of paper to draw between her and her daughter. Lily had been no more willing to acknowledge Jess than Madeleine had. There’d been no public championing of the Derbyshires, and no stamping on Madeleine’s libels. Lily had treated her brother and her niece like servants and exploited their goodwill to the nth degree.

Did I think it would do an eleven-year-old boy any good for me to spend days in court, fighting off blackmail charges, in order to separate him from his parents? No. Rightly or wrongly, I accepted Jess’s word that Nathaniel genuinely cared for his son, and I hadn’t the will or the energy to take responsibility for a child I knew nothing about.

But in the end I kept quiet for Jess’s sake. Some debts can only be repaid with loyalty.

BALLDOCK & SIMPSON SOLICITORS

Tower House Poundbury Dorset

Ms. C. Burns

Barton House

Winterbourne Barton

Dorset

14 September 2004

Dear Ms. Burns,

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

Re: Ms. Derbyshire’s account of an alleged assault on you by Madeleine Harrison-Wright; and information contained in a film purporting to show the incident