‘He must have been very rich for my mother to have taken such a chance.’ She grimaced in disgust, lifting her head defiantly, drawing on every ounce of courage she could find to face these revelations. ‘It seems my family have kept a great deal from me, Mr Roberts. You had better tell me the whole story.’

‘Your father believed you had been told on your sixteenth birthday, but I can see that isn’t so.’ He leant back in the chair. ‘Well, after the divorce your father married again in New York. She’s a charming woman who gave him two sons. They were very happy together, and she understood the love your father had for you. He tried to get custody of you so he could take you to America to be a part of his new family, but your mother refused. To avoid a nasty court battle that would have hurt you, he gave way. It nearly broke his heart to leave you. He came here two or three times a year to spend time with you.’

The shock was receding, and Jenny could feel rage bubbling up inside her. She had known that her mother was selfish, but this was unbelievable! Gathering her thoughts with great effort, she said, ‘I’m pleased my father was happy with his new family, but it makes it even more puzzling that he should have killed himself.’

Dwight Roberts was on his feet so suddenly that the chair he’d been sitting in went flying. ‘Who told you that?’

Jenny was shocked by his reaction. ‘My aunt, Gertrude Osborne.’

‘What the hell is that woman up to?’ Dwight raged.

Matt came over, poured the agitated lawyer a brandy, righted his chair and made him sit down again.

He downed the drink in one gulp. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Winford, you’ve been told a pack of lies!’

She half stood up and then collapsed back. ‘Lies? What do you mean? Oh, God, please tell me what’s going on!’

‘Your father did lose nearly everything in the crash, but he was a good businessman and would have bounced back, in time. Only he wasn’t given time.’ Dwight looked sad. ‘He was shot by a crazed man who had lost everything and blamed your father.’

‘He was murdered?’ The words came out in an anguished whisper. How could her aunt have told her he had committed suicide when he hadn’t? It was unbelievable.

‘Yes. After killing your father, the man turned the gun on himself.’

She was going to be sick! Her darling father hadn’t killed himself; he had been cruelly murdered. She touched the pendant round her neck. Thank heavens she’d never sold that. It was the only reminder of him she had left – apart from the memories, of course. But it was all too much! She turned round, seeking support. ‘Matthew!’