She wondered how Kerry was getting on in America and smiled then, a genuine smile. At least some good had come out of all the troubles of the last few years. Kerry was back on top. She was still drinking, but at her age, what could anyone really do? At least she was enjoying her life. She was a big star again. Briony hoped she took America by storm, and being a Cavanagh, that was probably exactly what she would do.

A Cavanagh. Even Daniel had insisted, right at the last, that he was a Cavanagh. She would write to him tomorrow. His mind was deteriorating rapidly, but the prison psychiatrist said that was delayed shock at his twin’s death. He was being sent to Broadmoor next week, so instead of the monthly trek to Parkhurst, on the Isle of Wight, they would have to go to Berkshire. Daniel still thought he was somebody of renown, but then, she supposed, in prison he was. They would never release him. He had already attacked two other prisoners for imagined slights. The psychiatrist said he was a psychopath. She had felt like saying to him: ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

She felt her eyes getting heavy with sleep and was glad. Finally, Briony slept, only to be woken a few hours later by Deidre crying. Briony settled her on her lap and rocked her to sleep, happy now she had a child in her arms. Deidre made up for the loss of the two babies she had loved too much. She was to see Benedict the next day.

He visited regularly. She hoped that he would one day bring his children with him. But it was something they had not discussed yet. They were still feeling the way, building the love and trust between themselves.

She rocked the little girl gently, crooning softly to her. Briony kissed the downy forehead and said softly: ‘Who knows what the future holds, my lovely? For me, for you, for any of us.’

The child was the living image of Boysie, she was wholly his daughter.

Yes, the Cavanagh genes were very strong. Too strong, perhaps? Who knew?

Briony carried on rocking the child, making plans for her in her mind. As always, Briony’s mind was on the future. A future, she knew from experience, which would be shaped by the past.

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

1989

‘Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty, but kindly’

-As You Like It, William Shakespeare

‘Do you think we should wake her?’

The blonde nurse nodded and smiled. ‘I think she’d be very cross if we didn’t. She’s been looking forward to seeing you all day.’

The man came into the room and the others followed. He went to the bed and gently shook the woman beneath the covers. She opened one eye, to show a flash of vivid green, then the other eye opened quickly.