Chapters (60)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Praise
- Dedication
- BOOK ONE
- Prologue 1989
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- BOOK TWO - 1925
- Chapter Ten - 1925
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Chapter Twenty-nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-one
- Chapter Thirty-two
- BOOK THREE - 1947
- Chapter Thirty-three
- Chapter Thirty-four
- Chapter Thirty-five
- Chapter Thirty-six
- Chapter Thirty-seven
- Chapter Thirty-eight
- Chapter Thirty-nine
- Chapter Forty
- BOOK FOUR - 1968
- Chapter Forty-one - 1968
- Chapter Forty-two
- Chapter Forty-three
- Chapter Forty-four
- Chapter Forty-five
- Chapter Forty-six
- Chapter Forty-seven
- Chapter Forty-eight
- Chapter Forty-nine
- Chapter Fifty - 1970
- EPILOGUE
He scanned the papers in front of him. It seemed Mr Ronnie Olds was found in Victoria Park, in a marquee of all things, with his entrails in his hands. Yes, it sounded like a Cavanagh had had a hand in that. Bolger was found in a back garden with his brains splattered all over the place. Could have been suicide, of course, or it could have been the work of Miss Briony Cavanagh and Mr Tommy Lane.
He had also pulled all the newspaper cuttings on Henry Dumas. It seemed he’d been a force to be reckoned with in the twenties. He’d liked little girls and all, from what Limmington had gleaned from Heidi. If he had made Briony pregnant, then she was only thirteen at the time of the birth. A flicker of distaste appeared on his face. Shame the man was dead. He could have had a little word with him, the father of Briony Cavanagh’s child, a child that was adopted by Dumas’ wife Isabel. Now this Isabel was a different kettle of fish all together. A peer’s daughter, if you please, and the spawn of Briony Cavanagh was now Lord Barkham, a respectable and influential businessman. Limmington wondered if he knew the stock he really came from. That was a poser. He’d have to tread warily here, but tread he would or his name wasn’t Harry Limmington!
Heidi Thompkins had a point. If he couldn’t make the charges stick, then he would have to play around with the evidence to suit himself. He was quite willing to do that to ensure they all got banged up once and for all. The ends justified the means in Harry Limmington’s book. As far as he was concerned, all the Cavanaghs were scum.
Briony was tired out. It seemed she was always tired lately. She brushed out her hair, looking at herself critically in the mirror of her dressing table. It was a strange feeling, seeing herself. She still looked in the mirror expecting to see herself as she had been when young. But Christ knew, she felt old lately. She’d felt old since she had seen her son. Her true son. But, she admitted to herself, she’d felt a lot better since she had seen Isabel. That was something she had needed to do for many a long year, and she had enjoyed it in a funny sort of way. Isabel had been the cause of great sadness, Isabel and Henry.