‘I had gone in to buy a gift, and was hopelessly lost, as you can imagine. She came to my aid. Within minutes, I was smitten.’

What he doesn’t tell Leah is that the woman whose gift he was purchasing was his fiancée at the time. Even then, it was an affliction he was helpless against. And Charlotte knew. She knew from the very start what kind of man he was. It couldn’t be said that she’d gone into it with her eyes closed.

There is a bag open on the floor, and Leah carefully lays each folded item in it, tucking them away with an air of sad finality. He supposes he should feel something more – some deeper pull of emotion. But he wants these things out of his house. As if ditching Charlotte’s clothes will exorcize her voice from his head, its insistence haranguing him as he moves through the days.

‘Are you sure your daughter wouldn’t want some of these?’ she asks him.

He shakes his head. ‘She’s taken her mother’s jewellery. I’d be very surprised if she had any interest in the rest.’

‘Perhaps you should check before you give these away.’

But he is firm. ‘No. Sandy has turned her back on all of this. Even if she’d speak to me, I still know what her answer would be.’

She stops, a dress looped over her arm. ‘Your daughter doesn’t speak to you? Not at all?’

‘Not for years.’ He offers a thin smile. ‘I don’t blame her. She was so little when it happened. She can’t even remember me from the days before the hotel. No matter how I feel, I must accept that I’m just a stranger to her.’

He doesn’t tell her about the bitter accusations Cassandra had levelled at him. The poison that had been poured into her ear by her aunt – Charlotte’s sister – eager to castigate and condemn. The things his daughter had been led to believe.

She sits down on the bed beside him, says softly, ‘It’s hard, isn’t it?’

And he thinks of what she’s told him – those small admissions made in odd moments of candour. ‘What of your father?’ he tries. ‘Surely he doesn’t blame you for what happened.’

She smooths the fabric of the dress that rests in her lap. ‘He doesn’t blame me.’

‘Then why the distance? You said you rarely see your parents. That your relationship is difficult. But surely they must miss you terribly. You’re their only child. They must worry.’