Vivienne smiled coldly. ‘It can also buy loyalty. My husband is a very powerful man. His currency has a far better exchange rate than mine. If I were to do this officially, there’s a risk that he would find out, and that’s not a risk that I’m prepared to take.’

‘And exactly how do you expect me to find your daughter?’

Vivienne flinched at Imelda’s choice of words. ‘You’re a very resourceful woman, Madame Burova. I’m sure you’ll find a way.’

‘But how do you know you can trust me? I could just leave with the envelopes and do what I like with them.’

‘You could, but you won’t. You’re far too honourable. And besides, you wouldn’t want to deprive the innocent party.’

Imelda packed up her things and shoved the envelopes into her bag. ‘You know nothing about me. Whether I’ll keep your secret and do what you ask is a question you’ll have to ask yourself every day. Goodbye Lady Longhorn.’ And with a smile, Imelda closed the door quietly behind her.

_______________________

As she climbed into her car, the first drops of rain splattered onto the windscreen. She slammed the door shut and jammed the key into the ignition. She resisted the temptation to rev the engine to vent her rising temper but made sure that the Jag’s wheels span on the gravel as she sped away, showering the neighbouring car with stony shrapnel and leaving ugly grooves on the surface of the car park. Imelda was desperate to open the envelope containing the photograph, but not until she had left that abominable woman’s property. A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed it down, furious that Vivienne could still get to her after all these years. The only person that Vivienne had ever cared about was herself, and Imelda could see that neither marriage, motherhood nor maturity had changed that. Vivienne’s instinct for self-preservation above all else was visceral. This year will be the girl’s twenty-first birthday, the same age Cillian’s child would have been had she lived. The baby girl that Imelda had cherished but her body had been unable to keep safe long enough for her to be born alive. And then she had found the girl, outside the booth, just days after her own baby should have been born – a beautiful, healthy but unwanted baby girl, and a knife to her heart. It had been heartbreaking to hand her over and now she knew that it had been Vivienne’s doing. But she promised herself that she wouldn’t let her own feelings prevent her from doing what was right for Vivienne’s daughter. She would make sure that one day the envelopes were delivered.