She almost choked at his outlandish statement. ‘Distraught? You? You’ve never been distraught in your life, not even when your own wife was dying!’

Despite his initial appearance, William had more gusto than Olivia bargained for. He stood up so sharply his chair toppled over behind him. His face purple with rage, he bellowed, ‘How dare you!’ He thrust his arm out in the direction of the living room door. ‘Get out!’

Olivia shook her head. ‘If you want me out, you’ll have to tell me where my baby’s buried. Tell me that and I’ll leave, and I promise you’ll never see me again.’

To her surprise, William picked up his chair and sank back into his seat. ‘But that’s not what I want.’

‘Then stop pushing me away and tell me where my baby’s buried,’ she said coolly.

His jaw flinched. ‘I know you’ll say I’m wrong, but you were happy enough leaving things be. Why stir things up now, Olivia? It’s been over eighteen years!’

Olivia leaned forward. ‘Only I wasn’t happy leaving things be, I just didn’t have the courage to address the issue, and no matter what you think of him, Ted has given me that courage, and not so that he can get his feet under the table, but because he wants to pay his respects, acknowledge the birth and death of his own child, something which you denied him. And I want to do the same. You think I put it all behind me, but I didn’t – perhaps this will allow me to do so.’ She waved a vague hand. ‘I don’t even know what name you put on the headstone, or didn’t you put a name? Maybe just our surname?’ She hesitated. ‘Did you put in loving memory?’ Seeing his blank expression, her next words were spoken in hollow tones. ‘Please tell me there was a headstone …’

He folded his hands over the top of the cane’s handle and rested his chin on them. ‘You have to believe me when I say I did what I thought best at the time.’

A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘Only it’s not about you or me, it’s acknowledging the existence of a child, and showing your respect.’

‘I did what I thought best,’ William repeated quietly.

‘So you keep saying,’ snapped Olivia. She looked at the deep lines which creased her father’s face. She might not agree with his decisions, or even like him all that much, but he was an old man, set in his ways and of a different generation. She relented slightly. ‘Just tell me the name of the church – the vicar will have a record of the burial.’

William lowered his head. ‘Too long ago.’

Olivia flapped her arms down by her side in exasperation. ‘Fine! I’ll contact every church in Glasgow myself!’

But William wasn’t listening. ‘Don’t do this, Olivia, it’ll only cause more pain.’

Olivia stared at him, deeply confused. ‘I don’t understand why you won’t tell me!’