Helena’s legs turned to rubber. She felt as if all her life force was escaping out of her body as she read. There were many more pictures of Jago available, ones that even Amy had no problem in recognising. Only he wasn’t Jago, the man she loved. He was Jonathan Relto, nephew of one of the worst landlords in history. His uncle had only missed going to prison because of a very clever lawyer. Worst of all, Jago had worked for him. She developed a cold sweat and her mouth went so dry she couldn’t speak.

‘Oh, Helly,’ said Amy, looking at her friend with concern. ‘Would you like some water?’

Helena nodded. While Amy went to fetch her some, she tried to get her brain to work. Amy came back with water, she sipped some and managed to speak. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Is there any brandy in the house?’ asked Amy.

‘You’re not supposed to give brandy for shock. It gives you hypothermia or something.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Amy was dismissive of this namby-pamby response. ‘I’ll find the brandy. It’ll make you feel a bit more in control.’

Helena remembered the first time Jago had offered her brandy, after she had rescued the kitten. That time she had asked for tea instead, but this required something stronger.

Amy had obviously managed to find it and held out a glass to her. Helena took it and sipped, and as she felt the strong liquor reach her bloodstream she realised that Amy was right, her limbs did feel more connected to her body. ‘I feel as if I’ve been run over by a train,’ she said.

‘It must be awful. I’m so sorry!’ said Amy.

‘Jago – the man I thought I loved – is not who he said he was. He’s this other, horrible person, very nearly responsible for people dying!’

‘They didn’t die though. And you don’t know how much he had to do with it. He may have worked for the company but he could have been a caretaker or something.’ Amy sounded as if she was desperate to say something comforting but couldn’t think of anything sensible. ‘If he was responsible, he’d have gone to jail and his uncle avoided that,’ she added.

‘Oh, come on! As if! Besides, he’s lied to me. I can’t forgive him. I’m leaving here.’ She paused and looked at her glass. ‘Tomorrow. I’m over the limit now.’

‘You were over the limit a few glasses of Prosecco ago,’ said Amy. ‘And don’t overreact. Jago didn’t lie to you; he just didn’t tell you everything.’

‘That’s as good as lying, isn’t it?’