‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’ I said, when I’d pushed the door shut with a click. It was so quiet, it felt as if the Castle itself was holding its breath, listening.

Aimee looked from me to Ronnie, who was standing by the window, looking out at the grounds. ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said, mildly. ‘I’ve told him my part in it.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Did you know, too, Mother?’

My mother looked at me, sharply. ‘I told you. I kept telling you. You wouldn’t listen.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, Mother. You’re right.’ She hadn’t known, not at the time. I knew that, really. She’d been as devastated as I had, when Aimee had vanished.

‘So why, then, Aimee?’ I turned to her.

She stared back at me. She looked sad, rather than defensive, I noticed and, for some reason, it put me on edge. ‘I couldn’t tell you,’ she said, simply. ‘I had to go away.’

‘Couldn’t tell me what? About my daughter?’

‘But she’s not…’ Aimee began.

‘Don’t even b…bother.’ I could feel myself losing control and I took a deep breath. ‘Do you think I didn’t recognise her at once? Her eyes…’ I tailed off, too choked up to continue.

‘What are you talking about, dear?’ My mother looked truly bewildered but, as this was almost her default appearance, it didn’t register with me straight away.

‘I’m talking about Aimee’s daughter,’ I said, meaningly. ‘My daughter.’

My mother gave a small laugh of surprise. ‘Oh, but she’s not your daughter, dear.’

I looked at Aimee, then back to my mother. ‘What? Well, whose…’

‘She’s mine,’ said my mother. ‘Or, at least, as close as I’ll ever get. She’s…’

‘Your father’s,’ said Aimee, over my mother. ‘There. It’s said. She’s your sister…half-sister…Nat.’ She tipped her chin up and turned her head away.

‘My father’s?’ The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt sick, and put my good hand to the table to support myself. ‘No, dear God. Please, no.’

‘I’m sorry, Nat.’ Aimee put her hand out and touched my arm. ‘I didn’t want to. You know how he is…’

‘No.’ I had a lump in my throat and I could barely speak. ‘No, please.’

‘He’d always had his eye on Aimee.’ Ronnie sighed. ‘Why d’you think he took her in? It was hardly out of the goodness of his heart.’

‘He didn’t have a heart,’ said my Mother, feelingly.

‘It was awful.’ Aimee spoke almost in a whisper. ‘It…you were away.’ She made it sound like an accusation.

‘When she came to him and told him she was pregnant, he hit the roof.’ Ronnie sounded tired. ‘He offered to pay for her to…you know…’

‘I couldn’t,’ said Aimee, tearfully. ‘There was a terrible row.’

‘So he sent her away.’ Ronnie shrugged. ‘It’s how it was in those days. Anything that caused a problem, he got rid of.’

I shook my head, not wanting to hear it. ‘You could have told me.’

‘I couldn’t.’ Aimee wiped at her eyes. ‘I was so ashamed, and he threatened me.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘He said he’d take Natalie. My daughter. I was put on a plane to the States and given money to live on, as long as I kept my side of the bargain.’

‘But they checked all the flights.’

Ronnie looked at me, her eyebrows raised meaningfully, and I didn’t pursue it any further. Giles. Of course. He could make anyone disappear. I’d seen that for myself only a few days before. And he would have, if my father had asked him. The Home Office did whatever they chose, and getting Aimee out of the country would have been child’s play.

‘So, why come back now,’ I said. ‘After all this time? To rub my nose in it?’

‘No, Nat,’ said Aimee, vehemently. ‘Never. My God, I loved you.’

‘Loved?’ I looked at her carefully. She hadn’t met my gaze at all, since she’d been here, but, now, she was staring right at me, her tired blue eyes fixed on me.

‘I’ll always love you, Nat,’ she said, with a sniff. ‘But too much has happened, and I have…someone…now.’

‘The owner of the house I walked you to?’ I cursed myself – I should’ve guessed.

She nodded, shame-facedly, and I felt a complete heel, especially as I realised I felt the same. I still loved the Aimee I’d known all those years before, but this woman in front of me was a stranger, to all intents and purposes. I couldn’t expect things to be the same as they had been. I didn’t even want them to be, now I’d met Grace.

Hey, that’s great,’ I said, trying to sound upbeat. The whole thing was so tragic it was almost funny. My fucking father had a lot to answer for. ‘I’m happy for you, Aimee. I am, really. None of this was your fault.’

She gave me another small, sad smile.

‘So why did you come back?’ I asked her, again.

‘I missed you all,’ she said, simply. ‘I’d have come back years ago, if I’d been allowed.’ She looked over at my mother. ‘As soon as I heard your father was ill, I got in touch with your mother. She told me you’d got married.’

Ronnie and I glanced at each other, uncomfortably.

‘I didn’t want to interfere, so I just stayed in touch with your mother and, when she told me you were in trouble, I knew it was time for me to sort things.’

‘You had nothing to sort,’ I said. ‘It was the old man who was to blame.’

‘Well,’ said my mother, walking over to Aimee. ‘That situation has resolved itself.’

She sounded so cheerful that her meaning was lost on me, for a moment. Then, something she’d said came back to me. She’d said he hadn’t had a heart, as if…

Ronnie had clearly picked up on it, too. ‘How is it resolved, exactly?’

I looked back at her, realisation dawning, then at my mother and Aimee. ‘My God, what have you done?’ I said.

Ronnie rushed to the drawing room door and, throwing it open, sped out through it in the direction of the East Wing. I followed suit, more slowly due to my injury, Aimee and my mother following at an even slower pace.

When I reached the tower room, Ronnie was standing at the end of my father’s bed, her hand to her mouth, tears running silently down her cheeks. My father, Quinlan Fforbes, ex-MP, hotel magnate and all-round bastard, lay dead, staring at the wall, his oxygen tube on the floor next to the bed.

Aimee and my mother followed us in a few minutes later.

‘He asked for it,’ said my mother, fiercely. ‘He asked for every bit of it.’

Aimee put her arm around her and they walked out, leaving me in the room with Ronnie.

‘I’ll take the rap,’ I said, going to leave. ‘I may as well add it to the list.’

‘I doubt it’ll come to that,’ said Ronnie, following me out. ‘He was a dead man walking, let’s face it.’

She couldn’t help a sniff and I wondered how, after all these years and all these revelations, she could still give a shit about my ruthless, selfish father.

    Fifty Four

Her

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Liv sat down opposite me at the kitchen table. She’d just got in from work. ‘I’ve barely seen you since yesterday.’

‘I’ve had things on my mind,’ I said. That was putting it mildly. I’d been pacing my bedroom all night, replaying the moment I’d hit Leo over the head. It made me feel sick and shaky every time. What with that and the memory of the knife going into Nat’s shoulder, I was a nervous wreck. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. He was okay – it had said as much on the news – but he’d been questioned about Leo’s death. The only thing that had stopped me rushing to the nearest police station was the promise he’d forced me to make: If you’ve ever loved me, stay away from me. ‘I take it you’ve not seen the papers.’ I added, trying to sound casual.

‘I’ve been a bit busy.’ She got up and went over to the sink. ‘Max has been out of the office again – I’ve been snowed under. What’s happened, then?’

‘Leo’s dead,’ I said, blankly. ‘I killed him.’

‘You what?’

‘I killed him. With a knife block.’ I looked up at her. ‘He was trying to kill Nat – he stabbed him – I’m not some psycho.’