‘Not yet,’ he replied. ‘But I will. You can be sure of that.’

‘Of course!’ said Patricia. ‘I’d be out looking myself, of course, but I’m just so busy with this auction. Why, only this morning I had to watch someone shampooing the rugs . . . Do let me know when they find the little . . . darling. After all, I am his legal guardian.’

David took a menacing step forward, catching her off guard. She wobbled unsteadily, holding on to the table for support.

‘Just in case I’ve been in any way unclear,’ he growled, leaning towards her. ‘You might have stolen my farm. I can live with that. But it will be a freezing day in hell, Patricia Porshley-Plum, before you get your bloated, greedy, evil fingers anywhere NEAR my boy. I have lost everything. But I will not lose my son. Do you understand me?’

Patricia was now bent so far backwards over the table, she could have limboed beneath it.

‘Perfectly,’ she whispered, pulling herself back to standing. ‘But I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you. Personally, I find the child to be rather a dull creature – it’s terrible what happens when there isn’t a father around to—’

SMASH!

The vase of fresh flowers shattered against the wall, sending fragments of wet glass across the kitchen like a shower of diamonds. Patricia gasped.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Dave quietly. ‘Did I disturb your concentration, Patricia? Do carry on.’

‘All done,’ said Patricia quietly. Life had taught her never to play against someone with nothing to lose. They were by far the most dangerous opponents.

Dave straightened himself and turned to leave. Patricia found herself releasing a small sigh of relief.

‘You see a lot in prison,’ he said. ‘More than I ever want to see again. But one thing became very clear, very quickly. There’s always someone bigger and badder than you. You might have taken our home. We might not be able to fight back. But trust me, Patricia, someone out there will bring you down. Someone will see you get yours. And Elliot and I will be there to cheer that someone on when they do. I’m going to find my son and we’ll make a new home. Together. What will your money bring you? Think about that.’

And with determined steps crunching on broken glass, David Hooper strode out of the front door.

Patricia paused for a moment and considered what he had just said. He made a good point. What could her money bring her?

Better security, for one thing, she mentally noted and returned to her checklist in preparation for the auction.