‘And you were going to ask this man, a stranger, for money? You were going to tell an elderly man that he had a son, and, if that wasn’t enough to send him into shock, you’d then chuck in a request for half a million pounds.’

Dad’s hand quaked where he gripped the photo. ‘How dare you interfere in something so precious, so private? These are people’s lives you’ve been messing with. How could you possibly imagine this could turn out well?’

I’d never heard my dad sound so angry before. He’d been betrayed and let down and treated horrendously by the people he worked tirelessly to help countless times, and he’d never once lost his temper with them, never shown anything but compassion and understanding. It was impossible to prevent my tears of shock from tumbling out.

‘Do you have so little respect for your grandmother that you think she would keep this secret without knowing it was absolutely the right thing to do? Can you imagine what it was like for her, having strangers snooping through her personal papers, trying to blackmail her doctor, sniffing after information that she’d chosen – for her child’s sake – to keep private?’

‘It must have been awful, but—’

‘Then how do you suppose she would feel to know that her own family, her only grandchildren, had done precisely that?’

Dad was almost shouting now, prompting Mum to come and place an arm around him. This was the worst I’d ever felt in my entire life. All the times I’d felt stupid, not good enough, a disappointment, had been nothing compared to this.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Jed asked.

‘Of course I bloody well knew!’ Dad stopped, choking at the words. ‘But you had no right to, unless my mother or I chose to tell you.’ He threw a withering look at me. ‘And Henry Fairfax certainly didn’t.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ It was all I could think of to say.

Dad dipped his chin, face firmly turned towards the window. ‘I’m sure you are.’

After hovering there for another anguished minute, Jed took hold of my arm, nodding towards the doorway. I mutely followed him to the kitchen, sinking into a chair while he helped himself to a beer.

Mum found us another bottle of beer and a glass of wine later.

There were more tears, more apologies, garbled half-baked explanations until she silenced us with two raised hands.

‘Of all the times for this to come out. We’re already under so much strain. Your father is worried sick about his mother. And now this.’ She paused. ‘As if he wasn’t feeling useless enough.’

‘Dad isn’t useless.’ I shook my head in dismay.