Walking towards the other woman, Briony was amazed at her changed appearance. Gone was the bigness she remembered, and the nut brown hair. Gone was every reminder of youth. Briony guessed shrewdly that Isabel had been old long before she needed to be. Had worn her years like a banner demanding respect.

‘Ben won’t see you, Briony,’ Isabel declared.

The voice was cold, without emotion. Briony felt a second’s sorrow for this woman who had lived a second-hand life. Who was still trying to hang on to the remnants because they were all she had left. Knowing this, Briony felt the awkwardness lift from her. Felt almost light. She had the edge, after all these years she had the edge, and it was a good feeling.

Sitting down in the chair opposite, she said, ‘I’ve already seen him.’ ,

She saw Isabel’s mouth drop open. She also saw fear, naked and unadulterated, in the heavily powdered face before her.

‘He came to me a while ago. He was very upset.’

Isabel sagged in her chair.

‘How was he, when you saw him?’ she capitulated.

Briony sighed. ‘Unhappy, very unhappy. That bastard Henry saw to that.’

Isabel nodded.

‘He was a difficult man, Briony. As you yourself know. I often wonder, sitting here, what I would have done had I been a girl today? It would have been so much easier. But then, you married and that was it.’

Briony spoke what was really on her mind. ‘Ben came to my house, and it was difficult. He seemed set on disliking me, and yet so curious to see me. Understandable, I suppose. I wondered if you had said anything?’

Isabel shook her head.

‘Not a word. I didn’t even know he had visited you. He doesn’t speak to me now. He hasn’t for a long while. The children are beginning to notice. Fenella, his wife, understands. She’s a good girl. She was all for telling the children the truth, but thank God Benedict stopped her.’

Briony grinned mirthlessly. The last few words, spoken so offhandedly, made her see red. Is that all this woman thought of her? Of what had happened?

‘Oh, yes, thank God! We mustn’t let them know the stock they come from, must we? We mustn’t hurt them by letting them know they were the product of a sick man and a child, we mustn’t ever let on about that, eh? That their father’s mother is only thirteen years older than him? We must never let on about that.