Briony stared down at the two children lying side by side in their cots. Each slept on his stomach, tiny hands clenched into fists as if they were born to fight. If one moved, the other moved. Just three days old and so alike it was impossible to tell them apart. As Briony looked at them, she was filled with love. Eileen had known what she was doing when she gave these boys to her. They filled a deep gaping void in her, that had been growing bigger and bigger in the years since she had handed over her own child. Now these two motherless boys assuaged that grief.

Briony had found two wet nurses, Lily Nailor, whose own baby had died a week before, and Carol Jarret, whose child was off the breast and being cared for by her mother. Needless to say, only Lily lived in. The two boys had already become the focal point of the house, along with Liselle. It seemed that after years of being peopled only by adults, the house was now full of babies. Everywhere Briony looked was evidence of them.

Molly was prostrate with grief. Even Briony had warmed to her at this evidence of her love for Eileen. She was taking the death of her child badly, and when Sister Mary had told her of Eileen’s dying wish that the twins should go to Briony, had acquiesced without a murmur. Briony felt already as if the boys were her own.

She stroked the two downy heads. They were so alike it was startling. Both had the same burnished copper hair that was already darkening, eventually to become a deep chestnut-brown, and both had deep-set blue eyes. They had nothing of their gentle mother in them, though Briony could see nothing of O’Malley in them either. She was glad. These were Cavanaghs, and would be called Cavanagh. She would see to that.

Jonathan la Billière awoke, a pain shot through his skull and he groaned. He looked at his watch, and groaned again. Sitting up in a strange bed, he was relieved to find himself alone. He had been partying with Rupert and Peter for three days solid and now he had woken thirsty, hung over, and stinking. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror opposite, he pushed his hands through his dark hair in consternation. He had deep shadows under his eyes and needed a shave badly. He lay back in the bed as he felt giddiness coming over him again. He was finished with drink, he promised himself that. He was due in Hollywood in less than a fortnight and had a lot to do before then.